I looked at the empty bed as I stood in the doorway of my daughter Amber’s bedroom. A vivid reminder of the horror I was living in, the bed that once held her dreams. Amber had been gone for a week, but it seemed like forever. Without her, every moment was intolerable, every minute of the clock extending into an endless period of anxiety and terror. My lively, golden-haired thirteen-year-old daughter, Amber, was nowhere to be seen. Additionally, I couldn’t get rid of the impression that she had suffered a horrible fate.
Amber wasn’t the kind to vanish. I knew it to be true with Amber, even though any parent would say that about their child. She was a contented, responsible girl who hardly ever left home. We had a unique tie that was deep and strong, one that gave me the impression that I would always be able to tell when something was off. But she was gone now, and I had no idea why. My heart constricted with a mother’s intuition as the days went by without any updates. There was a serious problem.
The Unidentified Bag
The police claimed to be doing everything they could. Their empathetic looks and claims that they were “working hard” didn’t help much. With each futile quest, it seemed like my hope was evaporating and I was sliding farther and deeper into despair every day. Despite their best efforts, friends and neighbors were unable to console me. All I wanted was the return of my kid.
I saw something strange one night as I sat outside our house, crying uncontrollably and feeling powerless. In the dark light of a streetlight, a homeless woman was searching through a nearby dumpster. Even though I had seen this scene a lot before, something attracted my attention tonight. A bag, one I would know anywhere, was slung over her shoulder. Amber’s purse.
My heart almost stopped. The bag was clearly Amber’s, with a unicorn patch she had sewn herself. Before my mind could absorb what I was seeing, I jumped to my feet.
“Pardon me!” I walked over to the woman and yelled, my voice shaking. “Where did that bag come from?”
She gripped the bag hard and gave me a suspicious look. I was having trouble breathing. “Please, my daughter owns that purse. Please give it to me; I’ll pay you and offer you everything.”
She gave the bag to him, her eyes cautious, after what seemed like an age. I held Amber’s purse to my chest and shoved some money—I didn’t care how much—into her hand. I opened it with shaking hands, searching for any hint or indication that would point me in her direction. But there was nothing within. empty.
I was overcome with panic once more as the fear of the unknown returned. What brought Amber’s bag to this location? Where had she gone? Was she injured? Images of my daughter in peril flooded my thoughts, sending it into a tailspin. I collapsed to the floor, crying. Then, as though fate had stepped in, a tiny, crumpled piece of paper slid out of the bag.
The Note
With trembling hands, I unfurled the piece of paper. Two words scrawled in hurried, crooked letters: “Green House.”
My spine tingled at the words. I was fully aware of its meaning. Known for its spooky, deserted appearance, the “Green House” was an ancient, run-down home on the outskirts of town. Kids would mutter about it, daring each other to come, but no one ever went because of its overgrown yard and fading green paint. It had been years since I had given the house any thought. However, it suddenly appeared to have the solution I had been frantically seeking.
I snatched up my keys and hurried to my car without wasting any more time. My mind was racing with questions, and the drive was a haze. Was Amber present? Was she injured? The idea of my kid being stranded, afraid, and alone made me feel a kind of horror I had never experienced before.
The Green House
Darkness had already descended when I arrived at the Green House, which loomed in the distance like a spectral figure from a bad dream. As I got out of the car, my heart was racing, and the only sound in the eerie calm was my own panicked footfall.
“Amber!” My voice reverberated through the night as I yelled. “Where are you, Amber?”
I heard a tiny moan that was so quiet I almost thought I had dreamed it. With my feet crunching on the overgrown grass, I followed the sound and headed toward the back of the house. The interior was a complete mess, with shattered windows, disintegrating walls, and a heavy dust layer covering everything. However, I continued to move in the direction of my daughter’s cries.
I eventually located her in a tiny, dark spot. Amber’s body was shaking in terror, her face smeared with tears, and she was curled up. She cried out, “Mom!” as I rushed to embrace her. Her entire body trembled as she held on to me. I could sense her fear spreading forth.
I held her close and said, “I’ve got you, baby.” “I located you. You are now secure.
The Veracity
Amber’s story was told through cries that were stifled. A unstable, reclusive woman who resided in the house had seen Amber walking home from school and had taken her. Confused and psychologically ill, the woman had thought Amber was her own long-lost daughter. The woman had enticed Amber inside the house and wouldn’t let her out, thinking she was protecting her.
The woman had given Amber food and a place to stay, but she had kept her confined because she believed that the outer world was too dangerous. Amber had been stuck in an incomprehensible nightmare and was too scared to get out.
I phoned the police right away, and they came in a matter of minutes, carefully addressing the issue. Given the seriousness of her mental illness, they took the woman into custody with compassion. It was obvious that she felt she was protecting Amber in her own perverse manner, even if she had hurt us.
Restoring health
Amber and I held on to one another more tightly than ever in the days that followed. Hours passed while we talked, processed the horror, and took comfort in the knowledge that we had survived together. Despite being shaken, Amber started to get better and gradually regained her sense of security. Amber’s friends embraced her return, and the community came together to show us love and support.
Although it was the most difficult thing I had ever had to deal with as a mother, it taught me the value of love, hope, and perseverance. The unthinkable had been endured by Amber and myself, and we had emerged stronger and closer than ever.
I’m thankful every day that I found her and for the strength we both found within ourselves. Amber is safe, and I will always be grateful for that. Together, we had overcome the darkness and come out on top.