I Buried My Daughter, Then I Buried My Mercy

The airport buzzed with life—overhead announcements crackling through loudspeakers, the steady murmur of countless conversations, and the rhythmic hum of luggage wheels dragging across the glossy floor. But to me, it all blurred into meaningless noise.

My focus was solely on the small child in my arms. Laurie. I held her close, cradling her fragile body as she slept, unaware of everything unraveling around her. Her steady breathing was the only thing anchoring me to this moment.

We made it to our gate. My breath came easier as we boarded. I slid into my assigned seat by the window, still holding Laurie protectively. The gravity of my actions settled heavily over me like a weighted blanket. What I had done. What I was still about to do. There was no turning back now.

A quiet sound—almost a whimper—cut through the gentle hum of the aircraft.

Laurie stirred. Her tiny hands shifted slightly against my chest. She blinked up at me, her eyes groggy and confused from sleep. My stomach clenched. I hadn’t considered what might happen if she woke up too early—if she cried, if she screamed, it could alert someone. Wade and Jessica would know too soon. I needed time.

Her lips parted. “Mommy?” she asked in a drowsy murmur.

My chest tightened. That one word shattered something inside me. She wasn’t looking for me. She was searching for her mother.

I mustered a smile, my voice soft but strained. “She’ll be with you again soon.”

She frowned, rubbing her eyes. “Where did she go?”

I hesitated. “She’s not here right now.”

There was a brief silence, then she relaxed again, letting her head fall back onto my shoulder. “Okay,” she whispered.

I exhaled shakily. Relief washed over me in a brief, fleeting wave. She hadn’t cried. She hadn’t questioned further. She was a sweet child—far too gentle for the monsters who claimed to love her.

For a moment, I almost softened.

Julie’s image flashed in my mind—her grin full of joy, the way she giggled when I spun her around the kitchen, the tiny arms that wrapped around my neck like I was her whole world.

I blinked hard, trying to shove the memory away. I couldn’t afford tears. Not now. Not here.

I couldn’t hurt Laurie. That much I knew. She was blameless. Just a child. And inside her… was my daughter’s heart.

Killing her would make me no better than them. But taking her? Taking her away from the people who ripped my child from me?

That was justice.

They had stolen Julie from my arms. Now, they would know what that felt like. They would live with the void. The ache. The silence. The grief. They would feel it.

After all, part of Julie lived inside Laurie now.

That made her mine, too.

As I stared out the airplane window, waiting for takeoff, my phone vibrated against my leg.

I glanced at the screen.

Wade.

Of course. He must’ve already discovered she was missing.

Where’s Laurie?

Another message appeared almost immediately.

Joanne, where did you take her?

A bitter smirk pulled at my lips. He was panicking. Good.

My phone rang. I let it ring, the shrill tone slicing through the white noise of boarding passengers and safety briefings.

I imagined him now—storming through the house, rage and fear battling across his face, his voice rising as he demanded answers no one could give.

Just like me, the day I awoke in that hospital bed, searching for Julie and hearing the truth whispered in the dark.

He had made his choice back then. And it hadn’t been us.

I finally answered, putting the phone to my ear, my voice calm and detached.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, feigning innocent confusion.

His voice came through like fire—tight, furious. “Is she with you? Laurie. Tell me now.”

I tilted my head back against the headrest, the corner of my lips twitching. “Why would I have your child, Wade?”

“Joanne,” he snapped, his voice tense with desperation. “This isn’t a game. Just tell me where you are.”

I chuckled—quiet, cold. “Relax, Wade. I’m far away now. You’re free to play house with Jessica. Don’t call me again.”

There was a beat of silence on the line, broken only by the sound of his uneven breathing.

“Don’t test me,” he said finally, his tone sharp. “Tell me where my daughter is.”

The irony clawed at my throat.

“My daughter,” I whispered mockingly. “You mean Laurie? Now she matters? You didn’t even blink when Julie died. You let her be butchered so your other daughter could live. Don’t talk to me about fatherhood.”

He sucked in a breath. He hadn’t expected that.

“Joanne,” he said again, slower now. Like he was treading carefully. “I get it. You’re angry. But please… don’t do something you’ll regret.”

I gritted my teeth. Regret? I had a thousand regrets—believing in him, trusting him, thinking he would protect Julie. But this?

Taking back the smallest piece of what they stole?

I’d never regret this.

“Tell me where you are,” he begged.

I smiled. “Somewhere you’ll never reach.”

“Joanne—wait—”

I ended the call.

But it wasn’t over.

I secured Laurie in her seat beside me, her little head nodding forward again in sleep. Then, I dialed a number I’d kept for a long time. A group known for operating behind shadows. Masters of fabrication, experts at creating the kind of chaos that left people gasping in the dark.

The line connected. A calm male voice answered. “Yes?”

“I need you to deliver a message to Wade Daniels and Jessica Morton,” I said, steady and cold.

“What’s the message?” the man asked.

I stared ahead at the aisle, my voice steady as steel.

“Let them know their daughter’s been taken.”