Daniel Monroe growing up in a Christian household has felt the pressures that come with leading a righteous life in a world that represses it. With the weight of it becoming overbearing to him, a mother whose main focus is her Church community and a...
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It's been approximately eighteen hours since my son disappeared from home. It's been eighteen hours since I shut down everything around me. It's been eighteen hours since I ate, prayed, spoken or done anything but cry. When I called Brother Robert first thing after searching the house I sobbed like a mad woman on the phone who just lost her husband all over again. When he came and tried to comfort me I sobbed even harder on his shirt and left disgusting mucus on it. When the neighbors helped search for Daniel I sobbed silently at home. I felt ashamed as they were out there trying to find him while I was here, at home wallowing in my pity.
I failed the only person who looked up to me.
And to imagine the extent of hatred my son has towards me made me feel even worse. The letter he wrote was filled with contempt; he said I didn't deserve the title of dear anymore and only wished the consequences of my actions would eat me alive.
"God where did I go wrong?" I asked, sobbing again in my palms. In reality I knew exactly where I went wrong. The truth I failed to come to terms with is that I'd led myself down a road that I couldn't find my way back. I was deceiving myself by doing all the good deeds and trying to hide away my pain. I was even more foolish for thinking it would benefit my son. I was selfish for only thinking of myself when he was silently in pain all these years. Not only was I fooling myself by thinking this, I was fooling myself by trying to justify my actions by God.
I came up with reasons as to why he would accept my behavior such as God is merciful or pretending that I didn't know what I was doing or making promises that I'd do better soon.
I cried and cried and cried however I didn't actually do anything but hide like I usually do. I wonder what the people will think of me. First my husband left and now my son. After a while I got a call from Joel, my next door neighbor saying that they couldn't find him and that when the sun rises they'd continue the search. The call was followed by several others from church members praying for my strength during these times and for me to have hope.
I really wanted to believe that this was just a rebellion against me and that Daniel would show up once he noticed how worried everyone was but when the birds started chirping happily the next day I just knew that he was gone and probably for good.
°°°
Three days passed and I was convinced Mr Richardson would be tired of me now. Each time he left for work I took the spare key he hid and left the house. During my time outside I didn't delay in befriending a group of guys I met during my first espionage of exploring. I was looking for trouble but trouble found me. The first three I met were Tobias, Carlos and Michael. That was totally by accident seeing as I managed to get lost and ended up in a run down street or as Richardson likes to call it, the bad side of town.
Notorious kids lived there with their junkie parents and abusive partners. I kept my head low when I first passed so as to not create attention to myself, it turned out to do the opposite instead. I noticed Tobias, tall, dark skinned, muscled and shabbily dressed with a cigarette perched in the corner of his mouth. He called out to me and motioned for me to come to where he was. I did not do that. Instead I pretended I didn't hear him and continued walking which turned out to be a wrong move in these parts.
