My baby still loved me. I could see it in her eyes. Even through the tomato bisque and chunks of ham salad I spewed all over the window, she still loved me.

The date lived up to its reputation, Friday the 13th, and everything went wrong. The moving company fired the girl who booked our reservation for a 30-foot trailer and a six-man crew. Her temporary replacement, the owner's mother, sent two teenage boys with a pickup truck and utility van. As if that weren't enough, the realtor misplaced the keys and security code to our new home on the opposite coast, and I had to wait four days before she could overnight another set.

My wife and I had argued all morning. When I saw the cruiser pull up in front of our house, I knew one of the neighbors had enough. I never expected to see my Rachel Elaine, “mercy help me”, I hoped never to see her again.

Over a year had passed since I last saw my daughter. In February on Friday the 13^th, her instability first became apparent. While at the dinner table, she confessed to pretend dissections of her little brother as he slept-- with a very real butcher knife. Of course, she was adamant that these were practice runs so she didn't need to open him up, yet. In June of the same year, again on Friday the 13th, Dr. Loomis an expert in child psychology agreed to examine my daughter. After only an hour interview, Dr. Loomis quit her case. He told us she reminded him too much of another patient he treated in Haddonfield. With that, he promptly rushed out the door, and to my knowledge, no one has heard from him again.

10 months later, on the same blasted Friday, my wife and I admitted our daughter to a facility for severely disturbed juveniles. I promised Rachel Elaine that if she were a good girl and did as she was told I'd make sure she'd be home for her ninth birthday. I knew for the sake of my family that I could never keep that promise. Not after the next door neighbor's missing pit bull, and countless cats were found behind a dumpster at the local park. All with jagged cuts made in the same pattern, just a few short feet from the monkey bars our favorite spot.

Yet in spite of it all, I still loved my daughter and a part of me couldn’t leave her in such a sterile cold place without some hope. I should've known better. Rachel Elaine always managed to get around me when she really wanted something.

Today, bloody Friday the 13th, my daughter found her way home.