Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (reading strategies book TXT) 📕

Her cry is sickly. She has a fever. She’s been having nightmares, I can tell. I hope she doesn't dream about me. That’s the last thing I want.

You sway slightly, moving from left to right. You hum under your breath, a melody I remember from years ago when you first found me. You cup her tiny head in your palm, breathing tentatively as you sing. You’re a wonderful mother.

You cradle your daughter. Our daughter.

Her little cry begins to simmer. She’s falling asleep again, she feels safe. She’s in the best place. You rock her and stare out of the window.

I’m here, but you can't see me. I wonder how you’d react if you knew I was here. Would you be repulsed?

I want to be able to knock on your door like any civilian and have the courage to do it. But we don’t live in that world. If it existed, it wouldn't be full of monsters like me or others we have come across together. You know what I’m talking about.

If she ever asks who her father is, or where he might be, make something up. Say I was a soldier who died serving his country, or I passed away from some natural disaster. Please, don’t tell her what I am or what I’ve done. I don’t want our child growing up hating me, and I don’t want her childhood wrecked like mine was.

She may grow curious in the future. If she ever starts to ask questions, you’ve got to promise you will stop her. Don’t let her investigate.

I can tell you know new things because your face shivers with concern. You must understand, not everything written about me is true. Some of the details in the news must make you sick, but I’m not responsible for its entirety.

As our baby girl falls asleep on your shoulder, a flame of a smile dances across your lips. You look out to the trees where I’m hiding and for a flash, your gaze locks with mine. You know I’m here, don’t you?

You stare at me for just a second, then your eyes dart down to our child. The innocent beauty is consumed by her dreams. She won’t be having anymore nightmares, not for tonight anyway. I’m just sorry for you and our little one.

Your eyelids start to hover. You must go to sleep. I’ll be back, sometime. I’m not going anywhere. I wouldn’t leave you but... if things do come to desperate measures, I just hope I won’t need your help. You’re the only one who understands what happened to me.

You still stand there, watching, on guard. The way you’re stationed reminds me of a time when things were different, when you stood before me, your expression wild and curious, when the innocent girl revealed she wasn’t scared of a monster. When she...

No, I won’t go there. That time is long gone now. Those moments are in the stars, unreachable and distant.

I remember waking up and finding you gone, your scent all over me like droplets of morning dew. Now I know why you ran, but I don’t understand why you’d keep digging for answers.

You move to the side of the window and pull the blind. All I can see is your silhouette.

I feel your footsteps as you put our daughter to sleep. I hear the switch of the baby monitor and her little whimper. I sense the sweep of your gown falling against your legs when you wrap your limbs into the bed covers. I close my eyes for a second, I wish your arms were around me.

My hunger and desire grow like the sun in the dawn. I can taste your skin all over again, hearing you gasp and pant against my neck. But I can’t stay in the past anymore. I’d willingly drown in that memory if I could.

I feel you falling into your dreams. You do it so easily.

I wait for a while until I’m certain you’re both at peace. I climb down quietly from the trees and focus on the house. Please, stay out of this from now on. I know how your mind works. Once you grab a theory hot in your blood, you will hunt and seek it out until you get answers. Maybe, the news will churn out viler content and you will stay away, for good.

I walk across the front garden, fleeing from the house. I say a prayer for you and our child. I love the both of you so much.

Forget about me, please. But, now and then, maybe when you’re alone.

Remember me.

Chapter Two

Winter 2015

Stripe McLachlan strode out of the meeting room feeling like she could soar. She nailed her assignment before the deadline and it was the correct length. After the editing team worked their magic, it had been live for a couple of days and the readers were lapping it up.

She skipped back to her cubicle, carrying a steaming mug of coffee, and found an email from her boss blinking unread.

Another scoop!

Hi Stripe,

I’ve got something different for you this time. Please find the necessary info attached.

See what you can make of it.

Well done on the Charles Libby project. You should check our Facebook page, the comments and likes are reeling in, not all of them are encouraging but you know the drill. Keep putting your stripes on.

By the way, you were personally asked by the CEO to scope this out. One thing about journalism is getting your name out there.

Have fun!

Kind regards,

Carla Dixon

Lead Editor

Titan News

She smiled, thinking the stripe line was pretty cheesy, but she’d managed to impress the ice queen, an unofficial nickname for the boss of the floor. Stripe clicked on the link embedded in the email and her screen flooded with the pleasant face of Isaac Payne.

Dishy, she thought as she read his biography.

He was the founder of a website called Virtisan. It had gotten some intrigued hearts beating, not as big