Drip, drip, drip. I listen to the sound of water coming from the leaky faucet. I stare up at the ceiling from where I lay on the bed. The cracks in the tile form a face, such a sweet face, the face of my beautiful daughter.
I can't help but wonder where she is. She hasn't made a sound which is so unlike her for she is so full of life. Drip. My heart starts to squeeze tight. Something is wrong. I can feel it. Where is my daughter? Where is my baby?
Drip. God, will that sound stop? Where is she? They took her. They took my child. I have to find her. Drip, drip.
I can't get out of this bed. They've tied me down. Somebody help me. Let me out I have to find my baby. Drip, drip.
I start to scream. I scream until my throat bleeds. Drip. I hear footsteps. Drip. I hear the door open. Drip. I look over at the door. Drip. A man in a white coat stands there. Drip.
He asks, "What is it Nora? What's wrong?"
"My baby, where is Grace?"
"She's gone Nora."
No that can't be true I think, "You're lying. What have you done with her? Give me back my baby."
"You have to get out of this delusion Nora. It's been fifteen years. Accept the fact that your daughter is gone."
"No. That is not true. You took her."
"Nora, calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down." My face is wet with tears. My throat is raw.
"Nora I'm going to give you something to help you sleep. Don't worry; you'll be fine in a few hours. Then we'll talk about removing the restraints. You have to calm down though. We don't want you to hurt someone else again, do we?"
He then takes out a needle with clear liquid inside. I try to get away but I can't. I'm trapped to the bed. He puts the needle in my arm. A few minutes later I start to float. He says something but all I can hear is drip, drip, drip.
I look up at the ceiling. This time the cracks show me and my daughter. I'm giving her a bath. I think about all the love we have for each other. I remember that her father loved me but he still left. I could never let her leave me. She was going to love me forever. I was going to make sure of it.
She was so tiny, she couldn't fight back. I just held her under for one minute, two. Eventually her tiny body stopped struggling; I still held her under though. All I could hear was the water dripping from the faucet into her bath. Drip, drip, drip.
They found out eventually. It was weeks though. I had weeks with my baby Grace, weeks with her sweetness. They took her away. They wrenched her out of my arms. I was told they buried her. How dare they. They had no right to cover my baby up with dirt. She deserved better.
I'm alone now. I start to sleep but even in my sleep I'm haunted by it. Drip, drip, drip. She left me. My baby Grace left me in the end just like everyone else. Drip, drip, drip…Drip.