Bye Bye, Baby

Day 1: Evening

Dear Diary,

I'm so sorry that I never have happy news for you. I only ever write when something bad has happened. Unfortunately, it seems that there are only going to be bad things from here on out. 

I apologize in advance. 

Mom went out today even though Barry Moore, the anchorman from Channel 14 News, said that it was dangerous and nobody should leave unless they absolutely had to. She said it was important. The baby is nearly out of diapers, and if she didn't go today then she might not get another chance. That was six hours ago. She isn't answering her phone and I'm starting to fear for the worst. 

Baby Madison hasn't stopped screaming since she woke up from her nap and found that Mom wasn't there to greet her. I tried to feed her the canned peaches that she likes, but she didn't want them. I tried to read her favorite story to her, but she kept using her chubby hands to push the book from my lap, screaming for Mom over and over. Eventually, I ran out of ideas so I put her in the living room with the TV and tried to finish my math homework. 

As I'm writing this, it's growing dark. I can hear the monsters outside, groaning and scratching on the doors. I should go check on Madison, but she's been so quiet. I'm afraid that if I go into the living room I'll upset her and she'll start screaming again. Even so, I should probably feed her. I'll update you later, Diary. 

Bye for now. 

Day 2: Morning

Dear Diary, 

It's me again. Remember earlier when I said that I have a bad habit of writing to you about bad news only? Well, here it goes. 

I did something very, very bad. 

I went downstairs to feed the baby last night. She was asleep on the living room floor with some baby show on the TV. I made her some oatmeal and woke her up when it was finished, but she refused to eat it. She started to scream again, stomping her feet and demanding to see our mother. How do you explain to a toddler that their mommy is probably never going to come back? There's no real way to make them understand. 

Madison kept going for the front door no matter how many times I told her that it was dangerous. She kept trying to open it with her tiny hands, losing her grip each time. Angry at her inability to open the door and my unwillingness to help her, she threw herself down on the floor and continued her tantrum until she fell asleep. 

Exhausted and frustrated by my sister's inconsolable rage, I did something I really shouldn't have done. I left the front door unlocked when I went to bed. I slept locked in my room with my bed in front of the door so that if the monsters were to get in, they couldn't reach me. 

When I awoke this morning, the house was silent. I tiptoed down the stairs and peeked into the living room. The front door was wide open and my three year old sister was nowhere to be found. What if those monsters actually got her? 

Diary, you have to understand how horrible I feel. I mean, I love my little sister dearly. 

Does it make me even worse of a person, though, to admit that the silence is sort of nice?

Well, I guess I'll write later diary. 

Your friend, 

April.