What was happening? Why didn’t he tell me?
The door squeaked open, so I closed my eyes.
“You want to … me …”
“Is this about… Killian? The nurse… hysterical… speaking.”
Dad’s voice was muffled, but I didn’t ask him to repeat or clarify. Why would I? I knew he and Mom were hiding the truth. They must have known what had happened to Killian. They wouldn’t even let me watch TV. I lay still with my eyes closed and hoped he’d give up on me and leave. His sigh stabbed my heart. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I wanted to be good, normal; it’s all I’d ever wanted to be, but without Killian… I just couldn’t. The mattress sank at the corner when he sat.
“Sweet angel, I know you’re in pain, let me help you.”No one can help me, Daddy. It’s inside me. Please find Killian. Please.
The tickings from the alarm clock on my nightstand thundered in my ear, each taking an eternity. Dad sighed again. I guessed he was waiting for me to say something. Wait, hadn’t I answered him?I’m so sorry I’m disappointing you, Daddy. I’m sure I’ll be better tomorrow.I just needed to rest, then I’d be able to deal with everything.
DEAR DIARY,
Today is Friday. Usually, I would be so happy because that would mean my family and I were going someplace fun and special for the weekend, but I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again. Killian wasn’t in school again. It has been two weeks.
Last week, I asked Daddy to find out what happened, but he keeps telling me not to worry about it. Worrying is all I’ve been doing, especially because Daddy and Mommy aren’t allowing me to watch TV. They’re hiding something from me, something horrible.
Mael told me he knew what happened to Killian. He said Killian set fire to his house to murder his parents and then left. But that cannot be. It just can’t. Not my Killian. Not my husband. I haven’t been able to stop crying since he said that. Why would he say something so awful? Sometimes, he takes jokes too far. Part of me hated him for even thinking those words could be funny to anyone. He’s so disgusting. Daddy had to pick me up early from school. He asked me what was wrong, but I just ran to my room.
My chest hurts. The only thing that makes me feel better is crying, but I’ve been doing that too much. I can’t stop. The thought of something like that happening to Killian or his family… I feel so sick.
I’m losing my mind. I think there’s something wrong with my heart. It has never hurt like this. I know Killian’s family are Irish Travelers, but he wouldn’t leave me without telling me. I know he loves me as much as I love him.
Could Mael be telling me the truth? Is that why Daddy and Mommy won’t let me watch TV? I don’t know what to believe, but I can’t believe that.
Love,
Magdalena Michaelson
(Fifth Grade, 10 years old)
7. What did I do
MAGDALENA
TEN YEARS OLD
When I opened my eyes, I was in a small white room, not my bedroom. The mattress beneath me was very thin. The protruding springs had bedsores forming on the length of my body. How long had I been in this room? Where was I?
My calves and thighs had atrophied, making it a struggle to get up. What the hell? Knocking on the white door, I yelled, “Hello?” No one was visible as I stood on my tiptoes, peeking through the small square glass window. “Hello!” I yelled louder.
“Stop screaming. It’s the middle of the night,” a stranger protested. I turned around and rested my back against the door. The voice of another kid, a girl, came through the wall to my left.
“Who are you? Where are we?”
Her laughter echoed.
What’s so funny about my question?“Hello? What is this place?” The weight of the unknown was caving my world. I wanted to go home, to see my parents, my siblings. If she wasanswering me, I wouldn’t be able to hear her over my deafening heartbeat and breaths.Daddy… I want to go home.
“Where am I? Ahhhhhhh!” I punched the door, ignoring the girl who was still laughing at me.Is this a nightmare?Please tell me this is a nightmare.Dadddddddy!!!!!!After exhausting myself by slamming my fist on the door countless times, I slid to the floor, waiting.Someone will come and tell me where I am. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. I just want to go home.
The shifting of the lock woke me, and I turned in time to watch them—two men—take hold of my arms and drag me outside. “Wait. Who are you? Where am I?” With their fingers digging into my arms, I couldn’t think straight, so I tried to yank my arms away, but they were too strong. “Where am I?” I screamed over and over as they dragged me through the halls. There weren’t any signs—nothing to indicate where I was.
When we arrived at a door, one man released me, and I took the opportunity to attempt to free myself from the other guy’s hold. “Stop fighting us,” the one still holding me gritted through his teeth while shaking me. Heaving for breath, I was drained, and my body was covered in sweat.
“I just want to know what happened. Say something!” I yelled as the other man opened the door to a big office.
