Sometimes we just like to get creepy with our storytelling, and that’s exactly what we did with this story.
We thought about a grieving couple on the birthday of their dead daughter, but we wanted to add some twists and turns in the story along with some sinister motives.
The question you should come out of this asking is… did they really love her?
So, without further ado, here is An Act of Kindness.
“It was her birthday today,” she said, staring at the picture of their little girl on the wall, smiling with her big grin, with her one missing front tooth.
“I know,” he responded, not even looking up from his phone screen.
After 15 years, the picture had remained untouched. She wiped the glass clean of any errant dust with a rag and stepped back. “Don’t you miss her?” she asked her husband.
He glanced in her general direction, but didn’t make eye contact. He shrugged. “Sometimes, I suppose.” Then he went back to his phone.
She stared at the picture. Forever unchanged. That was how her daughter had looked fifteen years ago, and that was how she would always look. The picture haunted her. The smiling face, she swore it stared accusingly at her each and every time she passed it. Yet, she couldn’t take it down.
She glanced at the clock—almost 8 pm. This was right around the last time she ever saw her little girl.
Everything had happened so quickly. One second she was sitting right over there on the floor, playing at her father’s feet, talking about how she was going to go to Kindergarten soon. The next second, she was gone.
In a strange way really, it had been an act of kindness. Though they still felt terrible about it.
She’d have been twenty today. What she might have been. Her daughter wanted to be an animal doctor and a ballerina. But she knew the dreams of children rarely lasted into adulthood. Yet, when she closed her eyes, she could still picture her little girl, all grown up, dancing on some stage in front of an applauding crowd.
Thoughts like that made her feel sad—guilty almost. So, she quickly pushed them out of her mind.
At that moment, the phone rang. Her husband looked up at her, confused, as the phone in his hand buzzed and played the delightful tune that came installed on the device.
“Who is it?” she asked, equally curious. This was the first time she could ever remember hearing his phone ring.
He shrugged. “It says, ‘unknown.’”
It was strange that it would ring now, at this very moment, and left her with an uneasy feeling. No one ever called that number, and now that it was the time, on the anniversary of her disappearance, on her birthday. It was a very peculiar coincidence.
She approached her husband on the couch, looking down at the screen while the tune continued to play. “Well, answer it.”
He pressed the green button on the screen, and slowly lifted the device to his ear.
“I want to hear. Put it on speaker,” she whispered.
He nodded and lowered the phone, switching it over to speaker mode.
“Hello?” he said tentatively.
For a moment, there was no response. Then a loud beep and the other end of the connection clicked on.
“Are you interested in saving up to 30% on your home loan?”
He pressed the button and hung up.
She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Telemarketers,” she exhaled as relief washed over her.
“They shouldn’t be able to get our number. It’s unlisted. I’m going to call tomorrow and complain.”
He was about to switch his screen back to whatever he’d been looking at, when the phone rang again.
The screen once again read, “Unknown.”
“It’s probably the same guy,” he said.
“Well answer it and tell him to leave us alone. Otherwise, he’ll be calling all night.”
He nodded and hit the green button once more. “Listen, I don’t want to be harassed…”
“Daddy?”
They paused at the one uttered word. They knew what it meant, and looking up at the clock, the timing couldn’t have been a coincidence. And there were only two people who knew what happened that night, and were sitting in that room, so it couldn’t have been some practical joke.
And it couldn’t have been their little girl—it was impossible. After fifteen years, it couldn’t be.
After recovering from the shock, he shouted into the phone. “Who is this?”
“Daddy? Is that you?”
Her heart beat in her chest, banging against her rib cage. “Hang it up,” she insisted.
“Mommy? Why?”
She eyed her husband. What was happening here? This couldn’t be real. Yet, it sounded just like her. But it couldn’t be. She’d be grown up. She wouldn’t still be a child.
“Why did you do it, Mommy?”
Her eyes widened and instinctively she backed away from the phone. Her husband, however, angrily shouted once more.
“Whoever this is, this isn’t funny! I’m hanging up!”
“Don’t go, Daddy. Don’t leave me,” the voice on the phone whined.
Her skin grew cold as those words echoed in her mind. The picture of their daughter sitting on the floor, playing with her dolls filled her vision. She was so excited to get them for her birthday. She wouldn’t let them go. One of the dolls even had a little icing from the cake in its hair.
Her husband rose from the couch while she made the dolls kiss each other, and she’d said those very words to him. She pleaded with him not to get up, but he did anyway. She couldn’t remember what he was going to do that night.
“Hang up the phone!” she shouted and attempted to grab the phone from him.
He pulled it out of her grasp and looked at her. Then he leaned down to the phone, cradling it in his hand almost as if it was his actual daughter. “Darling, is that you?”
“Why did you leave, Daddy?”
“I didn’t leave, baby. You did.”
Her eyes narrowed and her cold feelings suddenly blazed fiery hot. He was a coward; he wouldn’t hang up on what was clearly a crank call. He knew as well as she did that couldn’t really be their daughter. Maybe he’d set this up. Maybe he had paid someone to make this call. He’d always felt guilty about what happened. He’d nearly broken down afterwards. It was only her strength that had allowed them to pull through.
“Daddy? Mommy is mean.”
His eyes rose to meet hers. They held a sadness in them she hadn’t seen in almost fifteen years. “I know, darling. I know.”
She couldn’t listen to this charade any longer. She rose and paced the floor while her husband continued talking. She paused each time he’d say something like, “It’s all right, baby,” and, “Come back to me, darling.”
He’d been sucked into this delusion. She quickly escaped into the kitchen.
Leaning on the counter with one hand, she put the other on her chest, feeling the rapid beating of her heart. She wheezed out several long gasping breaths before she could steady herself.
As the conversation in the other room continued, her eyes darted wildly around the kitchen, searching in vain for some explanation. Maybe she had eaten something bad for dinner. That could cause hallucinations. Maybe she hadn’t slept well last night thinking about what today was and she was over-tired.
But what about her husband?
Her head turned toward the doorway to the living room as she heard him say, “Baby, where are you?”
She could no longer hear the other end of the conversation. He’d likely switched the phone back off speaker.
Her head began to spin. It couldn’t be their daughter. Yet, if it was, what was she telling him now? What was she convincing him of?
“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.”
Her hand gripped the edge of the counter tightly—as tightly as her jaw was clenched. Her husband was a fool to be duped by this cruel prank. She had to end this, now, before it was too late. Who knew what the caller was telling him now. Was his resolve slipping again? Could his guilt be getting to him?
They’d wanted the best for their daughter. They’d said they would always do what was in her best interest. Their aspirations for her went well beyond that of a ballerina or vet. They’d talked of her going to Harvard when she was young and planned how they’d pay for it should she get accepted. But when she’d gotten sick, they knew there was no chance of any realistic future for her. They’d decided to make her last birthday extra special, so she knew just how much they loved her.
Their daughter had been so happy. She loved her dolls and named them as soon as she saw them. They’d taken her out that day, both she and her husband took off work to be with her. They had had so much fun. They went out to dinner. She’d even baked her a cake that was taller than their daughter. But it was still a somber day.
They loved her. They truly loved her. She felt that love that day—every ounce of it.
“Daddy’s never going to leave you, baby,” her husband spoke on the phone.
She was gone. Their baby was gone. He knew it. Yet, he continued speaking in a voice that said he believed it was truly her on the other end.
He was sick.
This had to end.
Her chest heaved as she realized what she had to do. It was for his own good. He would be grateful later when this all blew over. Straightening her back, she went to the cabinet and opened the door.
Thirty seconds later, she stepped back into the living room.
“I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere. Can you find your way home?”
The guilt was eating him inside. Yet, even with his back to her, he could tell he was happier than he had been in years. Even if it wasn’t true, he believed he had his little girl back.
Hesitating for a moment longer, she wanted to let him believe that for a few more seconds before she crushed everything. Guilt was beginning to grow in her own chest. But like fifteen years ago, she had to be strong. She had to persevere for both their sakes.
When she came within steps of him, he stood excitedly. “You’re close? Where?”
“Stay strong,” she told herself. She came up directly behind him and raised her hand.
It was one quick motion. One second he was there, talking excitedly into the phone, and the next he was gone.
He collapsed onto the ground, the phone clattering to the floor next to him. His eyes stared blankly up at her, an almost accusatory look in them. Blood dripped from the crack in his skull, pooling on the floor around him.
Such a mess—she’d be cleaning it for hours.
She returned to the kitchen with the cast iron pan, placing it in the sink. She’d made a mess of it as well.
She’d put him in the basement, next to their daughter. They would be together, just like he wanted. He’d thank her for this someday; he would understand that she loved him and she’d done it with his best interests in mind.
But now she had to clean up the mess. She heaved a sigh. This was the worst part of it all, just as it had been all those years ago.
“Daddy? Are you there? Don’t leave me!”
The sudden whining voice caused her to jump. It was becoming agitated now, almost angry. She needed to hang that damned phone up before the voice drove her insane too. She’d pull the battery out so that whoever it was could never call again.
With nerves of steel, she strode back into the living room. But she stopped at the entrance, color draining from her face, as a blood-curdling scream filled the room. It took her a moment to realize the scream was her own.
Her little girl stood over her husband’s body, looking just as she had a decade and a half earlier. Her skin was a pale white, and dark circles surrounded her eyes, but there was no mistaking who it was. She gazed sadly at the body on the ground as she stood in the pool of blood still expanding around his head.
The girl took no notice of her mother, instead staring curiously at her father’s body. She seemed to comprehend what had happened to him, yet at the same time she seemed confused.
Then the girl’s attention fixed on the petrified woman. Her eyes were little more than black pools—looking into them was like staring into the abyss. Her body grew cold as the little girl’s wraith concentrated on her.
“What do you want from me?”
The little girl didn’t respond.
Her mother’s chest tightened, and every breath came with great effort. Blackness began to creep into the edges of her vision, filling more and more with each passing second.
Then she felt something that she hadn’t felt in a long time—peace. Everything else faded away—all her pain, all her anxiety, all her guilt. It had been a long time—too long.
And then there was nothing at all.
Her daughter had shown her an act of kindness.
The End.
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