“911, what’s your emergency?”

“She’s gone! S-she’s really gone… Help me… She’s gone…” A panicked voice sobbed helplessly.

The voice on the other line inhaled sharply. “Who’s gone?”

“My daughter, Brielle. She’s gone. She’s- she’s not here anymore.” The phone's static began to glitch like an old television.

“Take a deep breath, ma’am. What’s your name?”

“Atta Fernsby.” Atta tried to take deep breaths, but her lungs felt as if they’d been set to a flame. She gasped for air. Oxygen was all around her, but she suffocated with every grueling breath. She thought she could feel blood running down her skull, but maybe she was hallucinating it. She didn’t know what to feel anymore.

“Okay, Atta, Give me your location and we will send officers as soon as possible.”

Atta stated where she was located when her incoherent shouts mellowed, but her voice cracked frequently.

“Alright, ma’am. What happened?”

“I need help. My daughter’s gone.” Atta’s eyes filled with tears as they darted around the yard. “I-I need her, I love her so much,” Atta gasped and continued to cry. “I want her back… I’m so sorry… Please come back…” Atta wailed into the phone.

“We will find her. What did she look like? Do you remember what she was wearing?”

“Uh, Brielle is three years old…” Atta hit her head trying to force words out of her mouth. “S-she has strawberry blonde hair- um and fair skin.” She bit her lip. “I think she’s- I think she’s around three feet tall. I don’t know. I really don’t…” Atta choked through her cries. “I can’t remember-” She sobbed helplessly.

“Do you have any family members she could be with?”

“N-no. Her father… He- he uh- he wouldn’t want his daughter... He never did… He-” Atta began to hyperventilate. Her thoughts were quickly drowned out as the blaring scream of sirens filled her ears.

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Sitting on the tattered brown couch, Atta hummed softly as she braided Brielle’s thin strawberry-blonde hair. The room filled with an orange and yellow glow as the fire in the fireplace danced in the midnight breeze. The moon smiled over the dimly lit garden. Brielle stroked the petals of a blood-red flower with tender loving care.

“What have you got there, honey?”

“A poppy flower!” Brielle chirped in response. “They’re my favorite! It looks just like your hair, Mama!”

Atta chuckled. If someone held up the scarlet flower to her hair, they may not be able to tell the difference between the two. She finished the braid and tied it together with a rubber band. Atta took Brielle into her arms and held her tightly.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She whispered quietly enough that Brielle could not hear.

The hug triggered a sudden violent burst of irritation that flooded her mind. She saw red. Atta grit her teeth as she pulled back a tight smile. Her heart still bubbled and burned with four-year-old rage at the unknown man who’d approached her four years ago this day. Police never took her seriously, what was she to do? He is still out there. He is still assaulting and harassing young girls. Atta could barely take care of her mental health and now she has to take care of another human because of the actions of this monster!?

Atta let go of Brielle and stood up. “Brielle, honey, can you fill up a cup of water so we can put the poppy in it?”

“Yeah!” Brielle raced through the room, down the narrow hallway, and into the kitchen.

As soon as she was out of earshot, she clenched her hands so tightly, her knuckles turned an ivory shade of white. Her nails barely cut through her skin from constantly doing this. Hot tears poured down her face, but she quickly wiped them away.

“Here you go, Mama!” Brielle held out a cup. Her smile was too big for her face causing her glistening brown eyes to be cut down into narrow slivers.

Atta smiled softly. She had always been good at hiding her sudden bursts of sorrow from Brielle. After all, it wasn’t her fault. “Thank you, honey. Can you just put it on the table for now?”

Brielle nodded and ran to the table. She tried her best to place the glass in the center, closing one eye and sticking her tongue out; She plopped the poppy into the glass. Brielle darted back to her mother and clung to her legs. “I love you, Mama!”

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Atta stared blankly at her garden. A silent breeze ran through her thick red hair. The yard seemed so quiet without Brielle laughing and trying to make friends with the insects she’d find. The police had just left her house after interrogating her, leaving her feeling as empty as she was last time she was alone four years ago. Atta couldn’t believe that her child was gone, who would do such a thing?!

Atta punched her head repeatedly due to the anger she felt all around her. Stupid. Stupid! STUPID! Atta dropped to her knees in front of the upturned dirt she had previously dug out to plant poppy flowers. Pots of the red flower surrounded her. She lightly dragged her fingertips across the petals as she once watched Brielle do.

Atta exhaled, her chest was so tight, she expected it to explode. She carefully dug her fingers into the cheap dirt that encased the flowers and lifted the plant and its roots. She didn’t care if she wasn’t planting them correctly, she just wanted to transfer the flowers to the Earth.

Someone once told her that flowers need room to grow. You can water them as much as you would like to try and keep them alive, but if they do not have a drainage system, their roots will rot and the beautiful flower will die. No matter the amount of love you shower them with, they will still perish if they don’t experience the wonders of the world and have the freedom to grow.

Atta cautiously inserted the roots into the holes in the ground and covered them up. As soon as the flowers were planted, the vivacious poppies seemed to wilt.

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Atta hugged Brielle back and pried her child off of her legs. Atta crouched down to meet Brielle’s eyesight. “Is it time to go to bed?” 

“O-tay!” Brielle skipped to her bedroom. Brielle always took questions as a command, but Atta was grateful that her child didn’t protest about unimportant things. Atta followed close behind Brielle, but she was already in her twin-sized bed by the time Atta got there.

The room was barely big enough for a bed and a few toys that lay sprawled on the floor. Brielle’s bed sat under a miniature window with a white-cushioned rocking chair next to it.

“Are you ready?” Atta smiled, lightly tugging at the blankets under Brielle.

“O-tay!”

Atta started counting as she quickly pulled the blanket through the air twice. “One… two…” 

“Th-wee!”

Atta flicked the blanket up one last time, covered Brielle in it, and swaddled her like a burrito. Sounds of Brielle’s giggles filled the crisp night air. Atta climbed onto Brielle’s bed and lay next to her. She took her petite child in her arms and cradled her gently.

“You are my sunshine-” Atta began to sing slowly in a delicate whisper. 

“My on-wy suns-ine.” Brielle finished Atta’s lyrics and closed her eyes.

“You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear… how much I love you… Please don’t take- my sunshine away…”

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Brown and yellow leaves fluttered to the ground. The slight breeze carried smells of cinnamon and apple pie through the atmosphere. Despite the sunny day, Atta was wearing a fluffy brown coat. Queens, New York is normally warm in September, but Atta was frozen to the bone.

A chill shimmered down her spine causing her to jam her hands into her pockets. Atta sat on a wooden park bench in the same park where she declared Brielle vanished. This park should have been one of Atta’s biggest anger triggers, but she was empty. She easily could have an explosion of vexation, but sitting here, she felt paralyzed. Why couldn’t she feel things she should? Atta’s motivation to get up in the morning and reason for living has been missing for nearly seven hours and so far the police have found nothing.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe if the police found nothing, Atta could provide false hope that her child was still alive. She preferred it this way. If they found Brielle’s body buried somewhere, Atta would have to live knowing that her child was never to walk the Earth again.

A burst of laughter cut through the air causing her to lift her head. Her black eyes landed upon a young girl and widened.

“Brielle..?” Atta whispered under her breath. Tears stung the back of her eyes. “Brielle!” Atta called, bolting to the girl. Atta dropped to the dewy grass and wrapped her arms around the girl’s neck. “Brielle, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, Brielle. I didn’t mean to!” Atta sobbed. “I love you so much, please don’t ever leave me again!” She gripped tighter.

“What are you doing?!” A voice demanded as it approached and yanked the girl from Atta’s arms.

“My daughter! No! No! Don’t take her away again! Please…” Atta clawed, trying to hold the girl over again, crying uncontrollably.

The woman glared at Atta as if she had two heads. “Let’s get out of here, honey.” The woman muttered to the girl. She grabbed the child’s hand and stalked away, leaving Atta wailing in the middle of the park. Her heart had been stolen from her once more. 

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Atta managed to lay in the park for two more hours after her breakdown, only going home when the street lamps flickered. She could have sworn that that was her child. The coincidental similarities were frightening. Her bright smile, her laugh, and even her height. Maybe she was going insane. Maybe she already was insane.

Atta would have given anything in the world to see her child again. Brielle would know exactly what to do to cheer her up. Although she was only three, Brielle knew how to put on a dramatic show. She would create her own dances and show off her favorite stuffed animals. Oh how dearly Atta missed her-

*BEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP*

Atta glanced up. A semi-truck nearly hit her. Apparently, she had been crossing the street. She lived across the road from the park and she nearly was killed.

Atta pulled out her keys and unlocked the door to the vacant townhouse. It opened with a creak as she entered. The house was eerily quiet. No laughter bounced off the wooden floors. Drawings of suns, meadows, and a happy family that were taped to the wall began to peel off.

Atta hung her keys on the hooks by the door, slid off her boots, and took off her coat. She looked at one specific drawing. The last drawing that Atta had hung up the day before. She had originally thought that it was of Cupid with his heart-shaped bows and arrows. Only now did she realize that the drawing Brielle made was supposed to display Atta smiling and holding a bouquet of poppy flowers. The swelling feeling of emptiness tore a bigger void in her chest. 

Atta looked down and began to walk when she stopped short at the kitchen table. The poppy flower in the cup Brielle got was wilting. Petals decorated the table. Atta sighed as a pang of guilt flooded her heart and trudged to the bathroom. The cheap white tiles were turning a permanent shade of gray. The floor and walls were splattered with water. The bathroom was just big enough for a tub, toilet, and a single standing cracked sink.

Atta tilted her head to the left. The bathtub was half-filled with water. Atta placed her hand on the surface, barely puncturing it. Of course, the water was cold. Atta turned the only working, star-shaped faucet knob which happened to be the hot lever, the other knob was laying a few feet beside the tub. She picked it up and threw it as hard as she could at the window with a scream of anger, leaving a small crack.

She breathed shakily and realized the water was still running. She turned it off a few seconds later and stripped off her clothes, piece by piece. She walked to the mirror. She didn’t recognize the woman glaring back. A scar wrapped around her neck. She touched it lightly and winced.

 Atta stepped into the tub and sank, placing her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She leaned her head against the back of the tub. Her eyes were empty while her chest was burdened with what felt like the weight of the universe. Silent tears continually dripped down her cheeks. “You are my sunshine… my only sunshine…”

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The cold nipped at their noses, turning them a bright shade of pink. The damp wood chips below their feet created a softer cushion than the normal texture. Summer only ended a week ago, yet Atta was bundled in a thick, brown coat.

Atta stood in front of the red slide at the bottom. “Come here!” She smiled at Brielle who stood at the top. “You can do it!”

Brielle stood, petrified of the big slide. This would be the first time she would slide down the biggest slide on the playground. Atta had finally convinced her to try, but now that she was on top, she seemed paralyzed. “Mama… I’m scared…” Brielle whimpered and clutched the freezing pole.

“Mama’s here for you. She will always catch you.” Unlike your father. Atta was disgusted with that terrible man. Yesterday was the four-year anniversary of the attack.

Brielle inhaled hesitantly before sitting down and pushing off. She quickly slid down the damp plastic and into Atta’s arms. Atta lifted her into the air and spun her around proudly. “See baby! I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you!”

Brielle giggled, “Again! Again!”

Atta held her child close. “It’s lunchtime, honey. Let’s go home and get you bathed,”

“Aww, o-tay.” Brielle sighed. Atta set her down and took her hand. They began to walk away when Brielle heard the sounds of an ice cream truck. “Mama! Can we get ice cream?”

“No, honey. It’s too cold outside. You’ll get sick.”

“P-wease, p-wease, p-wease!” Brielle pleaded.

“I don’t even know why they’re selling ice cream when it’s this cold. Maybe they’re just trying to get rid of their stock before winter.” The ice cream truck pulled into the parking lot beside them.

Brielle looked up with her big auburn eyes that Atta couldn't resist. “P-wease..?”

Atta grunted. “Okay fine. But only one.” Atta began digging in her pockets for some spare change. “That’s weird, I swear I have some here somewhere.” She unzipped her coat and checked her hidden pocket. “There it is.” She grabbed a dollar bill and looked up, but Brielle was nowhere to be seen. “Brielle?! Brielle, honey?! Where are you?!” Atta looked around frantically. Her eyes landed on the line for the ice cream truck where Brielle was standing. Atta stormed over to her child.

“There you are! Don’t scare me like that again! Please tell me when you want to go somewhere.” Atta scolded her child.

Brielle nodded without looking at Atta. She was fixated on the ice cream pictures that were pasted to the side of the truck. Atta sighed, grateful she found her child, and hugged her.

Brielle wanted her favorite ice cream: strawberry. Atta paid and handed the dessert to Brielle. “Thank you, Mama!”

Atta smiled and held Brielle close as they walked across the street. Within a couple of seconds, they were at their front door and Brielle was licking the ice cream stick clean. Atta unlocked the door and they headed inside. Brielle kicked off her shoes and made a run for the bathroom. Atta followed, but when she arrived she noticed that Brielle had knocked off one of the bathtub star-shaped knobs while trying to fill up the tub with water.

“Brielle Lucia! Really?” Atta put her head into her right arm. This was going to be another bill for the single mother who could barely afford food for the week. Atta could feel a burst of anger about to come on, but she held it in as best as she could.

Brielle was sitting in the bathtub and playing with a rubber duck, her clothes laying on the floor in a messy pile with the ice cream stick on it. Yet another mess to clean up. She could barely keep the bathroom clean by itself. Mold and brown spots covered the walls no matter how much she scrubbed.

Brielle laughed at the rubber duck and splashed water. Droplets landed on the floor and covered Atta’s pants. Atta tried to smile at her baby, but she hated faking a smile. Every little sound was magnified. Every drip. Every crack. Every laugh. Every action occurred in slow motion. Atta began shaking violently. Red encased her vision, everything she saw was that dreadful color. Then she lost control.

Rage and embarrassment flooded through Atta’s veins as memories of her rape attack played on repeat. It was as if another source had taken over her brain. How could he attack her and demand her body?! How could he leave her to fend for herself with a child?! No support. No money. Nothing!

Atta kicked the tub, but it wasn’t enough. “Get out of my head.”

“What?” Brielle asked innocently.

“Get out of my head!” She grabbed Brielle by her shoulders and shoved her under the warm bath water, bearing her teeth.

Bubbles floated to the surface as Brielle struggled in horror under Atta’s grip.  Atta watched her child with wide eyes, her heart palpitating. She wanted to pull her daughter out and save her, but she couldn’t move. She was frozen in terror. What was happening to her?! What was she doing?! Blinking herself back into reality, she dragged Brielle out of the water, but Brielle slumped limply against her. What have I done..? WHAT HAVE I DONE?!

“Brielle?! Baby, wake up! Wake up!” Atta screamed, tears rushing down her face. Brielle’s once vivid eyes now glazed over, unblinking, and her strawberry blonde hair fell over her face. Atta dropped her daughter as she backed away from the tub slowly. Attalyn Autumn Fernsby was now a murderer.

She slipped on the wet floor, her head colliding with the sink as she struck the ground. Her blood and pieces of ceramic splattered against the mirror, shattering the glass, but she didn’t care. She needed to get out of there. Away from the corpse that lay floating in the tub. Atta swung her hand wildly in an attempt to find her phone. Should I call 911? What would I tell them?!

Atta shook her head, then winced from the pain. I need to hide her. I need to hide her NOW. Her wild eyes darted around the small townhouse looking for a hiding spot. A sliver in the blue curtains that hid the tiny bathroom window revealed the upturned dirt of her garden. It was as if the sunlight illuminated the patch and everything else melted away.

Atta’s pitch-black eyes widened. She didn’t have much time. She picked up the body of her three-year-old and held her close. Crying, she hurried out of the bathroom, into the living room, and opened the back door.

The grass seemed to die with every step she took. She laid Brielle down into the holes she had previously dug to plant poppy flowers she recently bought. Dirt caked underneath her fingernails as she buried her baby. Once Brielle was fully covered, she made sure it looked like the Earth had never been disturbed.

Atta fell to her knees, wailing at the cloudy sky. How could she have let her anger overcome her..? The poppies withered slightly beside her. She snatched her phone from her pocket and punched in three numbers.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“She’s gone! S-she’s really gone… Help me… She’s gone…”