I spent hours searching for Abby, knowing that without her there to testify against her mother that the case would fall apart. Police combed the town, searching for the teenage girl who was so lost and alone in the world.
I was frantic and scared to death, I had my daughter once, and I didn't want to lose that baby girl again. I could do nothing but keep searching as I prayed for a miracle. That's when I looked up and realized I was across the road from the same church I had found Abby at.
There on the steps was my precious child, crying her eyes out beneath the safety of the steeple. I approached her slowly, not wanting to startle the child, yet she looked up anyway. For a moment, I feared she would bolt, but instead she just sat there, a scared and broken look on her face. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and the horrors she had experienced danced behind her eyes, taunting her with the memories that she couldn't outrun, no matter how hard she tried.
When she spoke, it was just one word, but it brought tears to my eyes.
"Mom..." she whispered. It took less than five seconds for me to pull that sweet girl into my lap, the same way I did when she was a child scared off thunder. I rocked her, keeping my voice low and soothing, trying to hid the quiver in my words.
"I've got you, baby," I told her, clutching her close. "No one will hurt you, I've got you."
She didn't speak, but clung to me for dear life. There, on the steps of the church, I mentally cursed God for letting such a child suffer. She didn't deserve the pain, and seeing her hurt had sowed the seed of bitterness, deep within my heart. I knew a hatred for Grace, a hatred I had never before felt in my life. Anger coursed threw my veins, mocking me. The place I once felt love and reassurance now felt like nothing more than a building. The Grace I had once felt was replaced with a resentment toward Him.
Satan had planted his seed deep in my heart, and the heart of my little girl, for she was still my child in my heart. We were lost, searching for a way to find our way back to the cross. Little did I know the plans that God had in store, or the person He planned to use to show me the truth.
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Author's Note: After something pointed out to me by another member on here, I have decided to go back and edit some aspects of my story, simply because some of the language, while fitting for the circumstances in a realistic way aren't really fitting words for this story and I wish to change that. I apologize for the short length, and ask that you bear with me as I work to improve myself as a writer.
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