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 initially booked our reservation for a 30-foot trailer and a six-man crew. Her temporary replacement, the owner's mother, instead sent two teenage boys with a pickup truck and a 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.

********

I stared into the grey mist eyes of my psychotic daughter, felt her overwhelming joy radiate off her petite frame like the sweltering heat from a midsummer sun. My Rachel Elaine sat so proud and straight in the passenger seat of the cruiser. And for a moment, I saw a phantom of the little lady I’d always thought her to be. That’s when I checked out.

Awareness seeped back into me one horrific frame at a time. Much like having watched the first half of a really awful B Movie. No matter how much it sucks, you kinda have to see it through to the end.

First came the soul piercing wail of my youngest child, Bobby. After that fateful dinner, I’d spent many restless nights reassuring him it was okay to sleep again. Then came the smell of gun oil, and a strong reassuring presence that held my head off the ground with roughened hands. My eyes were the last to breach my mental sanctuary. They flew open onto a sunny clear August day, with the promise of family picnics, trips to the beach, and endless chatter over Hollywood’s current slate of special effects. All of it lies. Never again could my family enjoy such ordinary pleasures without looking over our collective shoulders.

Damn consciousness and responsibility, I wanted to stay in la-la land.

“Sir, my name is Officer Matthews. Can you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Robert Edward Patterson.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Outside my home?”

“Can you tell me what today is?”

“Yes, the day my family slipped back into hell.”

“Sir, I believe you may have a concussion.”

“One can only hope.”

After a bit more back and forth, and several assurances I would make an appointment with my doctor, Officer Matthews assisted me to my feet. To my credit I managed to stay upright, and even walked the few steps from the curb to the mailbox at the end of my walkway. The further I got from the cruiser, the more steel returned to my spine. I had a wife and son to care for and protect. Another day, soon perhaps, I’d allow myself to indulge in a complete breakdown. At the moment, the only thing that mattered, was keeping the family I had left safe. Which meant making sure my little girl remained locked away for the rest of her unnatural life.

********

In the time it took me to recount the past nightmarish year for Officer Matthews, my wife had managed to swallow her own fears, calm our son, and hand me a bucket of soapy water with rags. “Clean the car first, then take care of the rest of this mess.”

I turned back toward the cruiser in time to see Officer Matthews placing plastic restraints on Rachel Elaine’s tiny wrists. With the practice of a seasoned lawman, he placed his large hand on top of her head, and aided my daughter into the backseat of his police car.

“What’s happened, Officer?”

“A report was called into my station.”

“The facility reported Rachelle Elaine’s disappearance?”

“No, they reported finding the body of one of their janitors.”

“I don’t understand, what has that to do with my daughter?”

“The man was last seen alive in the company of a juvenile fitting your daughter’s description.”

“It’s a mental facility for children. There have to be tons of little girls that look similar to my daughter.”

“Mr. Patterson, I asked Rachelle if she knew anything about what might have happened to the janitor.”

“And?!”

“She said he was a bad man, that did bad things with little girls. So it was okay to give him 13 licks with a hammer. It’s her birthday after all.“

My vision became spotted, but I refused to pass out, again. I simply refused. I had to focus on the bucket in my hand, had to keep the water from spilling. The handle felt firm and real in my grip. Nothing else mattered. I had to keep from dropping the bucket or spilling the water. “Please God, let me be able to do this much.“

“Mr. Patterson, I’ll have to take your daughter in for questioning. Considering her age you might want to ride along.”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“Sir, you do understand the seriousness of her situation?”

“Yes, I finally do.”

I turned toward my front door, as Officer Matthews slid back into the driver’s seat of his police car. I carefully placed the bucket on the front stoop, as I heard the siren blare to life. Without a backward glance I shut the door and threw the lock, while I pretended not to hear Rachelle Elaine’s pleadings as the cruiser drove off.

I found my wife in the dinning room and sat next her at the table. She handed me her leather bound date planner. My wife never felt comfortable allowing technology to keep track of her life. I noted all the dates she’d marked off over the past year. All the ones marked in red, Rachelle Elaine’s favorite color, fell on the 13^th of the month. She flipped the pages four years ahead and pointed to another date in August marked in red.

My heart finally broke under the significance of the date. Rachelle Elaine would be 13 years old on that day. I knew with the certainty of the condemned, that on another Friday the 13^th, my daughter would find her way home, again.

Macabre Petite