Status: work in progress

The Child Is Gone

Three.

I should sleep, one part of my tired mind kept repeating. Sleep would do me good. If I slept I wouldn't have to think, and that would be a wonderful thing.

But I knew sleep elude me. I couldn't rest. I was a mess and I needed to pull myself back together.

The face in the mirror looked back at me with dead eyes. I wanted to cry but the tears refused to come. I was all cried out.

I felt so unclean. I should shower.

No.

I should call someone. But who? Who to trust? Who would believe me?