Page 77 of Uprising

And then the thunder rumbles so loudly I wonder if the storm is right above us.

Autumn always brings storms to the Bay but for some reason this one feels more ominous. More threatening.

As another crash echoes around the room, I wake up enough to really register it.

And then I’m scrambling from the bed, scrambling out the door, and down the hall to where Lara’s room is.

I know she hates the storms. When the first time one hit we cuddled up together, held each other in the dark and I soothed her until it was past and she was fast asleep in my arms.

But as I half crash into the room I freeze. Her bed is empty. There’s not even any covers on it.

And then it hits me.

Everything hits me.

Lara isn’t here, is she? In my stupid sleep addled state I’d forgotten that.

I stare at the bed. At the room that’s so sterile, so devoid of life.

And then I’m sinking to the floor, with the wood so cold beneath my body.

I couldn’t face coming in here, I couldn’t face seeing her space, acknowledging that she really was gone. It was never much of a room. Beyond a bed, and a few pieces of furniture this was all Lara had. No toys. Nothing that made this space less like a prison. Darius wouldn’t permit anything. I guess I should be grateful he didn’t make her sleep on the floor like a dog. I think he even said that to me on one occasion.

I let out a whimper as my grief hits me all the harder. My daughter is gone. Stolen again.

How does this keep happening? How am I always living like this?

Another streak illuminates the space. As it does I see the drawing, the tiny marks she’s dared to make. I crawl on my hands and knees to where it’s half concealed behind the bedframe. My fingers trace along the ink, to the figures, to the three of them, one small in the middle, holding the hands of the two bigger ones, with the words ‘mummy’ and ‘daddy’ so tiny beneath them.

I think my heart breaks at that.

She must be scared right now, she must be awake, afraid, hearing the storm and I know no one is comforting her. No one is with her.

She’s all alone.

And she must feel exactly that. That she’s been abandoned. Forgotten.

“Lara.” I whisper her name, wishing the wind would carry it, praying that she knows I’m thinking of her, that though I’m not physically there, I’m still holding her in my head. Holding her so tightly.

My tears fall harder, I curl up, holding my stomach, remembering how she felt when she was inside me, when I could feel every move she made, when I could protect her, at least to some degree.

I don’t look up when I hear his footsteps. I don’t even acknowledge him as he towers over me.

“What are you doing?” He asks quietly, as if it’s not obvious, as if he doesn’t know.

I hang my head further down. Will he beat me for this too? Will he make me pay for the pain I’m suffering, the pain he’s once again responsible for?

He lets out a huff sinking down and I tense up at the sudden proximity of his body to mine.

He doesn’t speak. He just seems to sit there, listening to my sobs, listening to my heartbreak.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.

“Doing what?” He replies. There’s no sympathy, no consideration. His voice sounds almost devoid of emotion.

“This. Keeping me like this. Keeping Lara from me. Hurting me the way you do.”

He lets out a snarl, grabbing my face, forcing me to look up at him. In the flashing light of the storm he looks even more grotesque, even more of a monster. “Why do you think Rose?” He asks.

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