I am her mother. A girl needs her mother. No one can love her like her mother does. She needs me. 

I told the teenager watching my baby that her father knew I was coming to take her tonight – that it was planned. I had put on my best dress and touched up my makeup before coming to the door, and as long as I kept my eyes downcast and managed to stop my hands from shaking too badly she would have no reason to doubt me. I gave her all the crinkled bills I could find in my sweatshirt pocket and she didn’t even glance back as she left. 

Now it is just me and my baby. We are together again just like we were meant to be. She will fill the emptiness and I will get better. We will play with dolls and have tea parties and play princesses. No one can keep us apart. Everything is going to be okay.

******************************************************

She took her! My ex-wife came to my house and stole my sweet baby girl to take her God knows where. I called the police and tried to tell them as much as possible about the places she used to go and the people she may have reached out to, but as I drive around town looking for any sign of them I am terrified. I can’t help but think that this is my fault; that I gave that insane woman too many chances and now she is going to harm the most important person in my world and I don’t know how to stop her. 

It hurt when no amount of rehab or counseling made a difference; it burned when I found her cheating on me; it stung when I knew no amount of “I love you’s” could fix us; it broke my heart when our baby girl was born and I knew that I had to divorce the woman I thought was the love of my life in order to protect the precious gift that is my daughter. But this, this is going to kill me. 

It’s been nearly two years since we saw the woman last and I thought my sweet angel was safe. I was so wrong. I can’t ever forgive her for this. If anything happens to my baby girl the police had better find the woman first because I won’t be able to hold back, not anymore; never again. Hold on, sweetheart, Daddy's coming.

Dear Dad,

I am so angry with you. How could you do this? How could you turn our family into a shadow of what we once were? How could you hurt us so much? Don’t you care? Can’t you see?

Just because you had a difficult childhood doesn’t mean you had to make ours that way too. The only pain worse than grief is abandonment. I can already hear your retort that you never left, but the truth is that you abandoned us so long ago I can’t remember the last time you were really there. We pretend that everything is okay, but we’ve been without your heart for such a long time.

I should never have felt the need to step up and be Mom’s co-parent, especially at 12 years old. I should not be the person Chris obeys the most; I should not have to stand between you and Ashley; I should not be asked for parenting advice by you, my father. You are the parent, not me. I am 23 years old, but I have essentially been a parent for the past 11 years. I am tired. You’re right, I felt so burdened at home that I needed to run away to California to feel free. I waited until Chris got to high school and for the first time in so long I was able to put my needs, my dreams first and it felt good. Scary, but good. Even so, I felt guilty for leaving home. I felt bad leaving them: Mom alone to parent, Ashley without a buffer between the two of you, and Chris without the only person he actually talks to at home.

And now? After all that has happened I feel like it is my fault. It’s not fair. I should be angry at you, only you. But I’m even angrier at myself because I saw this coming. I saw it coming and I ran anyway. I let them down. I wasn’t there. I didn’t stop you from hurting them - literally this time.

And I blame you for the guilt and the responsibility I feel for what happened. I've known for years that you couldn’t be relied upon to be an adult and take care of yourself. I knew you would do something stupid and harmful; I knew that you would snap under the pressure that you, and only you, put on yourself.

Why didn’t you step up? Why didn’t you do something, anything, to fix things? Isn’t that what a parent does? A grown man? You had a crappy childhood, so what? That was over 30 years ago. You have had so many people surrounding you who love you and would have welcomed the chance to help if you had only been honest. Do you really not understand the love of your family? Your brother and sister who grew up in the same house? Your wife who chose you, even knowing the darkness? Your children who were brought into the world already loving you unconditionally? We all love you so much, but it is becoming harder and harder to make excuses and forgive. Your unwillingness to seek help is just further proof of your rejection of us. And it hurts. 

That should never have happened, Dad, never. I should never fear for my baby sister’s safety from our father. My pit bull of a sister should never imagine the word “terrified” and lock herself in her car in the middle of the night because of you. You are supposed to protect her, not be the reason she needs protecting. 

I’m done cowering in the corner. I feel like finally attacking you back. The most painful thing you could ever do to me is to hurt Chris or Ashley. You’ve crossed that last line and I can’t just absorb the blows anymore. I don’t know what to do with this concentration of anger. It is strong and potent, and I honestly don’t know what I’ll say when I see you next.

I hate the way I feel right now, and the way I am behaving. I feel like I’m becoming more like you and it frightens me. I am angry, and sad, and scared. 

The only possible balm I can imagine is that you admit your weakness and get the assistance you need. I can't even send you this letter because without pyschological help this could push you over the edge, and I still love you too much to risk that. I'm so far out of my depth and I don't know how to fix this. I need you to help me by finally helping yourself. Please, Dad, if you don't do something now you're going to lose us all for real this time. We can't keep falling into this cycle that gets worse with each spin of the wheel and with this last episode we've decided to get off. Find a way to change things or this time we'll have to leave you behind to save ourselves. Please don't make us.

Love,

Your Daughter

Prophesy:

The Promised One, of the mended and twice blessed

Shall come at the time of our greatest duress

Child of the duilgoatha and craionnacht

With its passion and strength shall one day unlock

The foretold Age of Truth, Justice and Peace

When false friend’s tyranny shall forever cease

Rowan choked back his horror at the abominable state of the girl on the horse. She looked to be about fifteen winters and was tall and lanky, with her slender limbs stretched across either side of the horse. She wore dark brown breeches that were coated in dust and an assortment of leaves, twigs, and what looked to be blood. Her dark green tunic was almost threadbare and had a similar coating to her trousers. It appeared as though her hair had once been tied back in a braid, but now her dark auburn curls stuck out at the most bizarre angles and its appearance was not improved by the presence of yet more dust, twigs, and leaves. She wore neither gloves nor shoes, and underneath the ropes that bound them her hands and feet were as bloodied and bruised as her face.

The young man knew without a doubt that the Keepers would not have wished for any of the orphans to witness this sight, but some part of him whispered that he needed to be there. Ever since his Naming Ceremony the month before Rowan had experienced moments of insight which seemed to come from somewhere outside of himself. However strange this was, his instinct was to trust it and follow wherever it may lead. He hunched his shoulders in an attempt to make himself appear smaller, tugged on his forelock as he had seen the stable hands do as a sign of respect, and looked to the commander for instruction hoping that he had managed to disguise himself sufficiently.

"Cut her down, boy, and bring her into the receiving room. The other lads can tend to the horses." The commander then turned to the two soldiers on either side of the girl and ordered them back into the ranks as he proceeded into the Asylum.

Rowan immediately began attempting to untie the knots at the girl's hands and feet, but they were far too tight for him to undo. He raced back into the stable and found a hoof pick that seemed to be fairly sharp. As he sawed away at her bindings the girl began to moan in pain. The rope had broken her skin and in some places was embedded in the cuts. Rowan cut through the last of the rope and positioned himself on the right side of the horse, where the girl's feet were dangling. He was grateful for every inch of his height as he reached over the horse's back to grab underneath the girl's arms and ease her down. She seemed to be aware that he was trying to help and cooperated to the best of her ability in her weakened state, but when her feet touched the ground she immediately collapsed against him. Rowan caught her and nimbly maneuvered to carry her as he remembered carrying his siblings when they were infants. She made no protest and Rowan made his way into the Asylum. 

Over the past two years Rowan had become accustomed to life here even though he knew things were not all that they seemed. It had been a safe haven for his siblings since their parents had died and he did not know how else the three of them could have managed to stay together. The children were still too young to feel the inexplicably sinister effects of the place and as soon as he managed to secure an apprenticeship and provide for them he would take them far away so that they could put this all behind them and be a true family again. Just a few more years here and everything would be fine. 

But as Rowan passed through the main entryway with the girl in his arms his body gave an involuntary shudder and it was as though the veil which had gradually been growing weaker was suddenly torn down entirely. Evil and pain seemed to seep through the very walls to surround them, and images of brokenness and despair flashed across his mind. He was blinded by the stark truths that rushed toward him and nearly dropped the girl. It was so strange; these visions were like nothing he had ever experienced, yet nonetheless Rowan knew them to be real. He waited for his sight to return then continued carrying the girl beyond the central staircase and down the hallway to the receiving room. No matter how much the young man tried to soldier on he was unable to ignore the overwhelming sense of guilt and betrayal that had settled upon him - as though rather than granting her asylum he was cementing her doom.