My son is missing and people are angry that I care

My son is missing and people are angry that I care

First, let me make it very clear that I know in my heart, that my son is absolutely alive. He can come walking through the front door any moment. I could wake up any morning now and find him eating breakfast. That's how easily my son was stolen from me, after all. I was just pouring myself a bowl of cereal when I first saw the note on the kitchen table.

ADVERTISEMENT

Through it, my son said the only reason he hadn't done this sooner was out of fear of hurting me. Then it went on about his feelings, how he never belonged, and the word Truth, with the capital T, was written often. Honestly, at this point I was just skimming through it because I feared where this was going.

When I reached the last page, my worst fears were confirmed. I threw the note at my wife, who had just woken up, and rushed upstairs. I fumbled with his door in my haste but opened it as soon as I could. His body laid on his bed. My wife came up behind me and pushed me aside to enter the room. I could not. Instead, I just watched my wife cradle the body of my son and cry.

My whole body was numb but eventually began to move on its' own. I shut the door and just went downstairs to sit on the couch, an action I would regret 1,000 times over the next few weeks. Because as I sat there and processed what had happened, I realized that my boy could still be alive. The body upstairs looked a lot like him and yet was clearly not my son.

What I should have done was put a stop to this macabre farce right away. I should have gone in there, slapped my wife, pulled her away from the body, and shown her right then and there that my son wasn't dead yet. Instead, when I tried to discuss it later with her, my wife had already accepted the situation.

I tried to explain to her how I knew we could get my son back. How we needed to work fast and figure out who put my son up to writing that note. It was undoubtedly his own handwriting but I refused to believe the note was otherwise genuine. My wife, on the other hand, refused to listen to reason. She just told me that I needed to open my eyes and accept the situation.

I went to my sister first and explained what happened. She seemed to understand but then she grabbed my hands and said, "Here's the solution. You hug her and tell her that you love her. She'll love you too and then you just move forward one step at a time."

I just shouted, "I don't want to hug her, I want to hug my son!" as I left. I knew what I was saying was far-fetched but if there was a 1% chance my son could still be alive, why wouldn't my family want to do everything to get him back? So, I took matters into my own hands. I ignored what remained of my family at home and took my son's laptop from his room to investigate further.

I found my son had been visiting disgusting websites where he discussed ending his life with people who actually supported him and egged him on at the slightest doubt he expressed. Before I could find out more details, my wife burst into my room, and into tears, as she dragged the laptop away from me.

She accused me of being insensitive and stubborn. She actually threatened me with divorce over my "behavior." So I called her out on the bluff and ended up having to stay at a motel for a few months. I wasn't able to make much headway into finding proof my son lived without access to the body that was left behind or anything from his room.

So, I played nice and tried my best to get into my wife's good graces without outright acknowledging that I was wrong in any way. Finally, she let me back in but I had to sleep on the couch that first night. There was a weird storm out that night. Looked like green lightning all around the house. I found myself awake at 2:22 AM so I childishly wished for my child back.

I woke to the sounds of my son eating breakfast in the kitchen. And my wife coming down the stairs beaming. She's saying how thankful she is to have me back and it sounds like she hasn't spent the last few months grieving with me. I started to believe my wish had actually worked.

It wasn't until I had cautiously opened the kitchen door that I finally realized what was really going on. My wife put on a good act but I knew she had to be an impostor too. And maybe they had gotten to my sister too. Or maybe everyone was fine and I had been abducted. Whoever was behind all this was very good at re-creating my family to try and put me at ease. But they had made a critical error. Or I had been too vague with my wish.

Either way, a child had been restored to my family. And only I seemed to realize that we had only ever had a son before. But I returned the smile my "daughter" gave me, as I inwardly struggled to control my fear. I'll only be able to keep up pretenses for so long. I'll have to make the first move and don't have much time to plan it. But I'll keep searching for my son as long as I live. No matter who tries to stop me.

And no matter how many bodies pile up in front of me.

Submitted February 10, 2019 at 05:05PM by joshuaandrew1985

ADVERTISEMENT
Начиная с 2009, Shmoop является компанией с собственной точкой зрения касательно цифровых технологий. Мы на 100% обладаем оригинальным контентом наших учебных материалов и стараемся преподнести все доступно и понятно нашим пользователям.Мы предост...