.Long Lost.

Dear Sandy,

Nights blur into day, day into night. Week into month and month into year.

I don't know how long it's been.

But I'm cold. And alone.

And sad.

We never break our promises...

People are walking around. As usual.

This place always had people walking around it now. From teens to news crews.

They always told the same story.

Of the girl who was supposedly raped and killed and is haunting this place.

I've heard the story so many times now that it seems detached from myself, as if it weren't actually real, just another scary story.

"Where did they say that Sandy was killed?"

I perk up, finally really watching the strangers around the room.

My name is the only thing not yet mentioned in all of the stories, yet this older couple seemed to know who I was.

"Over in that corner over there... are you sure we should do this?"

The woman ignores her husband. They look... like...

Mum? Dad?

They must be at least fifty now, wrinkled and skinny, old people clothes suiting them with their new age.

They look so... done.

Tired. Vulnerable. Fragile. Sad.

I don't remember them like this. I don't think I want to.

"Mum! Dad!"

I yell at them like a little girl, crying like I'd hurt my knee.

I'm on my feet but I know better than to try and run to them, it'd only end in disappointment.

I watch as they walk towards me slowly, bouquet in hands, tears in eyes.

My dads hand clutches my mothers tightly, his own dull brown eyes gathering a slight sheen to them.

They place down the bouquet and my old teddy bear I used to protect with my life. They don't place down the card but instead read it silently between themselves. I lean over their shoulder to read what's inside.

Dear Sandy,

We're sorry, first of all. Almost ten years and in all that time we'd thought you'd run away and left us. I have never regretted anything so much in my entire life.
I want you to know that we love you with all of our hearts and your little brother Joseph loves his big sister too. Joseph is such a happy kid, you would have loved him. Paul likes to tell him stories so that he doesn't know you from only the news. Paul's such a sweet boy, he feels just as guilty as we do.
I wouldn't know what we would have done without him. He loves you honey, and I know you loved him too.
I hope that, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, that you are happy.

We love you so much honey,

Mum xxxxxxxx
Dad xxx
Joseph X   X XX

My heart clenches as I see each of their handwriting.

I have a little brother. Joseph. His handwriting looks to be young, very young. A sense of grief washes over me, I'll never get to meet him.

I was never very close to my parents, I was always so independent but my whole body seemed to ache with the need of their comfort.

"I love you all too."

"We should have gotten her more. This isn't enough."

"She'll love it, you know she will honey."

I curl up in my corner amongst the gifts as they leave. But the hall isn't empty. In fact, more people, some I recognise, some I don't, visit, pay their respects, occasionally leaving a gift or a card.

I didn't pay much attention. Because I didn't care about them during my life, why should I care for the attention now?

I didn't even share more than a word or two with these people, I didn't change their lives in the slightest.

I wait for the one other person I actually care about.

He'll keep his promise. He has to.