Never Stood A Chance

Author’s Note: I like to use a little website known as Coursera, auditing classes for free with my equally poor friends who love writing as much as I do. With my best friend in tow, I did 4 out of the 5 Creative Writing Specialization courses available. This is a piece I wrote for the Craft of Character course. I’ve edited it and given it a couple of polishes so that I may post and share it here today. Please read & enjoy.


Anxiety and self-doubt course through her veins, threatening to rebel against her plans. Once they arrive in the park, and she’s raced past the playground equipment, she saddles up to a group of girls she’s never met before, though she’s seen them in the past. They look awkwardly at her and smile, but he can’t see that from where he’s at in the lot, so she takes a deep breath. This is her only chance.

“I think I’m in danger and need to get to the police station. Can I join you for your run so he doesn’t try to follow me?” Really able to look them over now, she sees that they’re a bit older than her. Perhaps it will go unnoticed? She has to try and she has to hope. Thankfully, they all nod in agreement, waving lazily at the parking lot for extra measure. Turning to wave herself, she indicates that he can return in three hours with her fingers. When he starts driving off everything becomes less tense.

“What’s your name,” someone from the group asks as she bends to tighten her laces. She is more comfortable with them than she’s been at home for several days, so she doesn’t try to lie. “Kyla. My name is Kyla Walton.”

A minute or two passes by before someone questions why she needs to get to the police, what sort of danger she might be in, but Kyla has to pause and breathe before she can get the words out. “My mom has gone missing and my dad refuses to report it. I’m scared that there’s a reason he won’t make the call.”

Tears sting her eyes but she refuses to let them spill. All of the women look upon her with wide eyes, some of them not even surprised by the suggestion she’s making. Each of them were been raised to be cautious, men more their predators than the animals lurking between the trees on the trail. Kyla’s fear is understood and they agree to get her to the police station safely. It doesn’t seem as thought much time has gone by before she’s standing on the stairs – alone. Kyla didn’t want them to be seen and insisted that she get there from the trail on her own. What if her dad were following her? What if he somehow knew her intentions and had been waiting at the station?

Her mother has been missing for over a week, and her father keep saying that it’s for work. She would never need to do that, not with her current job. When she pointed this out her dad was very angry and said that he’d been hoping to wait, but that her mom took a new job. Everything about his explanations felt wrong. All Kyla wants is to know what would’ve taken her mom out of town for so long without contact. It wasn’t like she’d gone to a different country where she couldn’t contact her daughter. Knowing that everything she’s been told so far is illogical, Kyla propels herself forward and into the station.

The receptionist doesn’t looking up from her computer, simply asking what the visitor needs. Kyla figures that this woman has seen it all, heard it all, and probably can move through her office, without even opening her eyes and still do her job to perfectly. She sighs, and then states her purpose. “I would like to report a missing person.”

Proving Kyle right, the woman behind the desk doesn’t even bat an eye. “Is the missing person an adult or a minor, ma’am?”

“Adult. It’s my mom, actually. She’s been missing for, like, nine days and I don’t think I’m safe with my dad.” She knew this would grab the woman’s attention, and is comforted when the lady shifts her focus from the computer to Kyla. She can see now that this is not just another non-issue passing through. Pulling out a pen from her drawer and a file folder, she asks Kyla to wait just a moment.

Moments later, two officers come to the lobby and invite her to come back into one of their conference rooms. Soon they are seated a very large table, probably used for team meetings. “I’m Detective Thompson. In order to help you, I’m going to have to ask a few questions, okay? Do you feel comfortable doing that for me?”

Kyla tells them how old she is, fifteen, and how long her mother has been missing, eight days. They ask for her address, phone number, closest relatives besides her dad, and a variety of other information that she knows must be fore Child Protective Services. Scared as she feels, Kyla doesn’t resist. She has to be strong for her mom.

“Thank you,” Detective Thompson says very loudly, a hint of weariness in her voice. Kyla nods gently and really looks at the detective’s face. Her skin is fair, though it’s ashen somehow, as if she spends far too much time inside in the dark. Instinctively, she wonders if this woman works late nights, or even only nights. As tired as she seems, Kyla guesses that it’s just late nights and very long hours.

Then she speaks again, “We have to ask a lot of questions, okay, and I know some of them will sound offensive but we have to know. First, I need to ask questions about your mom. Is that alright with you?” Kyla doesn’t appreciate that she’s being spoken to like a very young child when she’s closer to adulthood than her toddler years. However, how often does a minor come in to report a missing parent? How often does a minor come in need of protection from his or her own parents? Kyla is sure they’ll take her seriously; in fact, she’s counting on it.

“Yes, that’s fine,” she says, preparing for the onslaught.

Do you live with just your mother? Does your father know that she is missing? Does your mother have a history of going missing? Does your mother have a history of drug or alcohol abuse? Does your mother have a history of depression? Did your mother have suicidal thoughts? Where was she working at the time of her disappearance? What was her position?

            It goes on, and on, and on, and on…

Detective Thompson wants to take a break from the questions. She says they’re tiresome and restrictive, in a way. Instead Kyla is asked to explain why she doesn’t feel safe with her dad. What makes her feel that way?

“Wouldn’t you find it really weird if someone in your family didn’t report you missing?” Kyla says, explaining that whenever she asks about where her mom has gone, all her dad says is that she’s travelling for work. “She’s never done that. She just does the cleaning for a doctor’s office. Her boss only has one practice. Why would she travel? Dad swears she has a new job but this is the only job she’s ever had. Why change it now? Why would he lie if he didn’t have a reason to?”

Detective Thompson asks Kyla to stay at the station for a few hours, if it would make her feel safer, and promises that they’ll make some calls to see if they can get more information. Is it not enough to say that she doesn’t feel safe? Kyla didn’t really think about the consequences if they decide her father is innocent.

Suddenly, the anxiety and self-doubt from barely an hour ago come flooding back through her veins again. Kyla has to sit around waiting to learn her fate. It makes her wonder if she is doing the right thing, or if she never stood a chance.

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A Mother’s Help

THE SOUND OF BREAKING GLASS stopped her in her tracks. Dana promised her daughter that she could have the house all to herself this weekend while she stayed with grandma for the evening. In her old age, however, she locked herself out of the house. Sneak in – get keys – sneak out – that was the objective.

That was the objective, anyway.

But the sound of breaking glass stopped her.

There was another voice coming from the kitchen when Dana gt inside, but she couldn’t just waltz in unannounced. It would violate the trust that she’d built up with her temperamental daughter. For weeks anything would hurt her feelings and set her off into a fit of swearing or crying. Dana wrote it off at teenage hormones, a flare of aggressive independence. In just one year, after all, she would be going off to college.

So Dana agreed with her daughter, “Alaina, you can stay home alone for the weekend every so often. Grandma wouldn’t mind the extra company.” It was an arrangement that would have been made naturally anyway. Dana’s mother has been getting forgetful and disorganized. Soon she would not be able to live alone anymore. There is an in-between stage and Dana knew that it would be weekend visits. Then nightly dinners, and so on, and so on…

The second voice was familiar; too familiar. Dana was able to identify it as Alaina’s boyfriend: Roger. He was a kind enough young man, but rarely ever wanted to do anything social with her. The mother always found it a bit strange. Still, her daughter insisted that he was just a bit shy and a homebody. Most of their relationship has been spent watching movies and making food runs together. He’d never so much as invited her to a school dance.

Needless to say, Dana didn’t exactly want Roger to be a permanent fixture in her daughter’s life. The breaking glass paired with shouting only reassured her gut feeling that he was not the right person for her.

“You said you fucking ordered the food!” Dana inched around the house in a way only Alaina could share mastery in doing, and weaseled her way into the bathroom between the kitchen and bathroom. From there she heard the fight deepen and another glass shatter.

“I thought it submitted the order! Please don’t break my mother’s dishes. These were gifts from her aunt!” And they probably were, most of the dishes Dana owned were from her mother’s best friend. She’d been a better aunt than any of her real ones, and so every silly dish she sent for holidays was kept and used regularly. It made Dana’s life as a single mom a little less serious, and it was something Alaina always thought was pretty cool too.

“You’re going to make a shitty wife. You can’t cook and you can’t place a food order. No wonder nobody else wanted to date you!” Dana resisted the urge to intervene, but instead dialed 9-1-1. She whispered her anonymous complaint as she snuck back out of the house and went into the car where her mother was waiting.

A noise ‘at the neighbors,’ she’d asked Dana, whatever for – it was so quiet outside. Dana explained that Alaina was having a bit of trouble and she wanted to give her a free ticket out of the mess. The discussion about Roger would be a private one, after the police carted him away.

And so she drove her car around the block and waited at a safe distance for officers to arrive. Dana watched and waited until finally Roger was escorted off of the property, in handcuffs no less, before calling her daughter on the telephone.

“Hi mom,” her voice understandably deflated.

“Grandma locked herself out of the house. I think we’ll be crashing at home instead. Sorry to ruin your weekend alone.” Dana said in her maternal tone, the one she used to apologize and comfort simultaneously. She is surprised, just slightly, when Alaina laughed in reply.

In a quick breath, “I don’t want to be alone tonight anyway.”

Dana knew before she got back home that Alaina would reveal the truth about Roger – the dark, nasty truth – and she would never know that it was her own mother that saved her. That would be okay, though, because a mom never needs recognition. She only needs her child to be safe.


Credit to the prompt generator I used when looking for inspiration for this story.

Also, if you are ever in an abusive relationship, please consider using this website to make the change you deserve in your life. There are one-on-one chat services available and resources to assist you during this difficult time of making a positive change.