Hi, my name is Marcy Lewis. I'm a divorced mother of one son; my precious Joey. Joey was just six years old when he was kidnapped by a madman from his bedroom, one rainy, late summer afternoon.
The pain is still fresh, still raw, and why wouldn't it be? It's only been two months.
Looking back, I can't believe it's only been two months. It seems like years that I've been living in this hell, with this pain, alone.
Yeah, my husband of ten years, left me just a month after Joey's abduction. Like I wasn't in enough pain, I had to deal with my husband, the man I leaned on and depended on, blaming me for what happened. Like I could have seen or prevented what happened.
I suppose if I'd known what was coming that late summer afternoon, perhaps I could've prevented it, but having your child kidnapped from his bed in broad open daylight just doesn't happen every day and it sure as hell isn't something I ever expected. Still, his father blames me, and he left me. Left me to cope with the guilt, the horror, the endless pain, all alone.
Well, to hell with him. I don't need him. Who am I kidding, of course I need him. He is the father of my child, my son, and I need more than anything else my husband's strength, his understanding, his forgiveness, but....
I spent a few weeks wallowing in my grief, but Gladys, God bless her, wouldn't let me go any longer.
Gladys is my neighbor, across the street. She actually saw the person who took my son. Well, I think it was him, the cops just call him a person of interest. But, you tell me, why would a 'person of interest' be coming from the back of my house in the pouring rain carrying an armful of blankets?
That was no 'person of interest', that was my son's abductor and I'd be willing to bet my life on it.
Anyway, Gladys, was always considered the neighborhood's busy body, and frankly, I was just as guilty as anyone of tagging her that way, but if it wasn't for Gladys, I honestly believe I would have taken my own life when Joe left me alone to cope with the kidnapping and all the pain that came with it.
Gladys is sixty-eight years old, a retired psychologist. She's a widow and a volunteer at a suicide prevention, crisis hot line. And my life preserver.
Honestly, if it wasn't for that old busy body, I... Well, I wouldn't be here right now.
It was Gladys' suggestion that I start this journal. She told me that it would be cathartic for me to get my feelings out, either on paper or on the computer, so here I am.
Right now, it doesn't feel very cathartic, it hurts. It hurts like hell to have to remember, to rehash the horror and pain of the last eight weeks. But, maybe it will help. Maybe if I can put my pain into words, my fears, my doubts, then maybe I can begin to live again. Hell, I'd be happy just to be able to breathe again.
Tags: Reading Rucker, Linda Rucker,
child abductions
character blog
murder mystery
character personal journalcharacter blog
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