Dad gave this to me, for ‘posterity’. Now I know where he got the diary writing idea. When I think of that time I am so ashamed, but I guess this is important in my story. So here you go.

I can’t even describe how I feel right now. Two hours would be too long. The rage and impotence that is simmering inside me makes me want to rip out my hair, tear my shirt off, cut myself, to redirect the pain. It is probably worse than after the prison when I thought she was dead. The hope, knowing she is out there somewhere, alone, hurt, scared…. it is debilitating.

 

I really didn’t think I would be having this sort of ‘fight’ with my 11-year-old daughter.

 

There’s a settlement down the way a bit, and they were having a mixer of sorts. Mish told her about it. I coulda killed her. She thinks it is important for Jay to socialize with others outside of here. Got her all excited, talking about music and what she might wear and if she would dance with a boy. I thought I raised Jay better than that, but nope, she got all het up wanting to go with Hayley, running to Laurel with magazine pictures seeing if she could refashion some clothes.

 

I want to say I got it, but I didn’t. I ‘spose I thought I raised a little warrior, yet she still wants to wear glitter eye-shadow even though less than a week ago she barely knew what make-up was.

 

Told her she couldn’t go. Lord, the tears and door slamming. Mish rolled her eyes at me, suggested I go as a chaperone if it bothered me so much. Then it was my turn to roll my eyes at her. She knows I ain’t exactly welcome a lot of places. But it could work. When I went to Jay’s room to tell her the ‘good news’, she was gone.

 

Two days. No trace. I guess I did raise her right. Unless it is far worse than I can imagine.