For my Casey and Elladee.

Without you this could never have been written.

"Daddy!"

    Ever since she turned four and started school I had been awoken in the same way. This day was no different, she called my name thirty seconds before my alarm began to echo her eagerness for me to be awake.

    I worked late into the night, but there was no way I would let that interfere with me groggily pulling myself from my bed a mere two hours after laying in it initially. Freyja came first, our mornings together were a sacred union, never ever to be broken. Less of that though, back to our morning.

My Freyja always follows the same routine;

1. Wake Daddy
2. Demand Breakfast
3. Spend more time talking than eating
4. Struggle her way in to her uniform
5. Resist having her unruly locks tamed

This morning was no different, and as soon as we were ready it was out the door we went.

"Why are the leaves all over the floor dad?" Freyja asked.

It was a beautiful crisp autumn morning and the leaves covering the pavement on our usual route to school were a pleasant spectrum of coppery and yellowed tones. A stark contrast to the bare trees that once were home to the magnificent foliage now littered around like the hair clippings on a barbershop floor.

"Autumn is a time of change darling" I told her. "The trees are adapting to the changing seasons. If things don't adapt, they don't survive."

This may seem a little too advanced for conversation with a four year old. Freyja isn't your average four year old though and I think this is down to the way Anna and I had raised her. She is as much our equal as she is our offspring and it shines through in everything she says and does.

    Anna had been my wife for 8 years and was the most beautiful creature the maker had ever had the good graces to create. Blonde hair, green eyes and a smile that could melt the blackest heart. When she found me, and I really do mean found for I was lost until I had met her, I knew that we were meant to be. The perfect contrast to my dark hair, dark eyes and appalling dress sense. The only thing we truly had in common was a sense of humour that wasn't allowed in civilized conversation and an unshakeable belief that everybody should be treated the same, whether they were four years old or a hundred. Well, we also loved each other intensely but that is by the by.

    "Do people adapt?" this is how she learns, always asking that next question.

"Some people adapt baby, others stick to what they know and eventually evolution means they will fall by the wayside and be forgotten."

"Like monkeys?!"

    Last week we had gone over evolution and Darwins' theory of natural selection, well, she had asked why I sometimes looked like a monkey and I had jumped at the opportunity to spite the creationism I was afraid her school would teach her if unopposed. 

"Just like monkeys sweetheart." She must have really been paying attention then, I thought she was just humouring me when we had discussed it previously.

    The walk was always normally fairly uneventful and starting to really bore her. I would have driven her to school but times were tough and we could barely afford the mortgage on what Anna and I were earning, never mind any luxuries like a car.

    We were on the last leg of our morning journey, we were just about to cross over the railway bridge that she loved so much, even though it smelled like tramps had declared it the logical place for their toileting needs. It was a great big imposing grey monstrosity, the metal was beginning to rust in patches and it had definitely seen better years. Freyja didn't care about how it looked from afar though, the real secret to its beauty lay on the walkway. As we ascended the first flight of steps I could feel her eagerness to rush off, she strained at my hand and even though I was reluctant to let her go I knew I must, nothing made her happier than this little section of our humdrum walk to school.

    The walls on the bridge walkway were hand painted, not just by anyone either, By me. I had been an artist from the moment I could hold a pencil and brush, that's what my mum will tell you if asked, and I'm sure that despite her love of a tall tale she's right. Something had always felt so right about painting and drawing, the moment I left school I went onto a specialist art college, from there I completed a degree in fine art and then from there....

    Nobody tells you how hard it's going to be to become an "Artist". I say that like it's some kind of separate thing, it certainly feels like there is a huge difference between people thinking you are an "Artist" and being one. I had been struggling for some time to make enough money selling my artwork and doing commissions but one day I got lucky. A local MP had approached me asking if I would take part in some community project he was piloting and the plot picked out for me was the walkway.

    The theme had been togetherness and industry so I had moved away from my usually dark painting style and created something that absolutely appalled me. It was garish and bright and nothing at all like me in any way. The only problem was that the MP loved it, so did the rest of the town and work increased for me for a few months after, but nobody loved it like Freyja did. Freyja knew every part of the painting, from the looming industrial section with the happy little cloud-making factory to the park filled with bright-eyed children. She loved that her daddy made this and the pride always showed in the look she gave me whenever she saw it.

    On our descent from the walkway she seemed quiet so I probed her "What has gotten into you little one?"

"Somebody has ruined your painting daddy." tears were already visible in her eyes and I knew that i had to say something, anything to stop this. No dad in the history of time can stand to see his little girl cry. As we got to the bottom of the steps onto the pavement below the bridge I wondered what I could possibly do to cheer her up.

"Don't worry baby, I will fix it later before I get you from school. It was probably just some older children messing around." I knew that I had a busy afternoon coming up but I was going to have to make room for fixing the mural, there would be hell to pay if I didn't keep my word. I looked left and right twice as we crossed the street, there seemed to be more traffic today than usual and I had always hated this stretch of road. Accidents were normal here and I always tried to hurry Freyja along so we could put it behind us.

"Which part of the mural is damaged Freyja?" I wondered as we reached the opposite side of the street.

"The picture of you outside our home" she replied, but I didn't have time to absorb what she had said to me. 

   Behind Freyja all I could see was a black car mount the pavement. The driver was obscured from my sight behind the steering wheel but didn't seem to be making any effort to avoid us at all. Without thinking I pushed Freyja as hard as possible to the side and tried to leap after her.

    That's when I felt the impact of the car as it struck me.

    That's the moment it all went black.

"Mr Blackbird?"

I hear my name being used informally. I don't know why. I can't see a damn thing.

"Mr Chace Blackbird?"

There it is again, that god awful voice, dripping with near malicious intent.

"Chace, wake up baby." Anna. My Anna. I need to open my eyes. I need to do this.

    As I open my eyes and try to take in my surroundings I'm aware of a throbbing in my head, arms, chest and eyes. Things start to slowly come into focus, gradually fading from bright white to the normal colours you associate with... A hospital ward? 

"What's happening?! Where am I?!" I can barely speak. Whenever I try it feels like I'm under the influence. I had experimented with some mild hallucinogenics during my college years and this felt similar to that, like I was in control of my body and mind yet strangely detached. 

"Oh Chace!" Anna starts sobbing onto my shoulder, her bright blonde hair starts to darken with the tears that are falling non-stop from her face. I realise that my body is a mass of tubes and that my clothes have been replaced with a hospital gown. It's all a bit too much for me and as my heart rate starts to elevate, the monitor to my left starts beeping uncontrollably.

    A nurse rushes to my side urging me to stay calm and twiddling with some strange valves on the drips that I have now noticed are attached to my endless tubes. A wave of calm slowly descends over me and as it does the pain that is coursing through my body ebbs away.

"Oh my god! Can somebody tell me what's going on?" nothing seems to make sense to me, I don't even notice there aren't just doctors and nurses around me.

"Anna? Why are you so upset to see me?" Then realisation hits me like a concrete wall.

Where is Freyja.

"Where is my daughter?!" It comes out as a nervous shout "Where is she?" there is nothing holding this back any more, a sense of dread and terror creep into my mind and body and just as quickly as the drugs had calmed me down my BPM accelerates to a ridiculous amount again.

"FREYJA!" The nurse grabs for my arms as I buck my body away from the hospital bed, Anna moves sharply away from me and realises she needs to do something too. 

"Chace! Calm down please!" She's still sobbing uncontrollably as she clutches at my arm and chest, nearly dislodging the IV attached to my left hand "Please just stop this and talk to me for a minute." My mind is still foggy but I calm enough to really take in who the other people in the room are. PC Wallace is my local bobby, a nice enough chap and always willing to offer a bit of friendly advice and chat to anyone he crosses paths with. Standing by his side is a gentleman that isn't known to me, the cheap suit and coffee stained tie suggests that either he doesn't much care what his appearance is to others or that he is trying too hard to look less important than he is. Here we have an obvious member of the C.I.D, the look on his face suggests that he's possibly even less happy to see me than I am him.

Freyja must have died in the accident. My head is aflame with pain and grief. It would be better if  the floor just opened up right now and swallowed me whole. I'm vaguely aware that somebody is trying to get my attention. There is movement by the doorway.

    "Mr Blackbird, Chace, we need to ask you a few questions" Wallace seems to want to get this over and done with, if only I could make sense of what was going on.

"Where is Freyja Chace? We want to know what you've done with your daughter.." What? Why are they asking me? something really isn't right. In my drug induced stupor I hadn't even thought that she could be missing. In seconds my life goes from bad to worse. What could have happened to my little girl, my beautiful dark haired little angel.

"I don't know. Why are you asking me this? Surely somebody found her when they found me and brought me here?" The detective steps forward, eyes never leaving my face, not even for a second.

"Do you know what day it is Mr. Blackbird?" oh my god these people are stupid! My daughter is missing and they are asking me the day of the week!

"It's Tuesday. What the hell is wrong with you?! My little girl is missing and you're in here asking me what fucking day it is!!" I thought I could control myself, and in other circumstances I probably could have.

"Chace my love please calm down, it's not Tuesday. It's Wednesday and you've been missing for two weeks." Anna's tears have ceased and she is looking at me in the strangest way. She isn't looking at me with the usual adoration I'm so used to.

Wait a minute... Missing? That makes no sense to me, like so many other things at the moment. Where have I been for two weeks?

    "Mr Blackbird. Can you remember anything at all about what has happened? Do you know where you have been for the last two weeks?" PC Wallace is obviously doing his best to control the situation and leave everybody feeling at ease, he's normally pretty good at it but obviously even he is struggling today.

 "The last thing I remember is pushing Freyja away from me as a car came towards us." It feels weird saying these things aloud, it only seems like moments ago that it was happening. PC Wallace is writing things down in his standard issue notepad, the plain black one you always see tucked into their breast pocket.

"You were found a few hours ago outside the front of the hospital wearing these." the detective holds up a perfectly clean pair of jeans and a red and black lumberjack shirt that I've never seen in my life.

"Those aren't mine..." I feel so confused. How could I have been wearing those clothes? When I left the house two weeks ago, if that is even how long it was, I had only hastily thrown on a holey black jumper and some cargo pants. I told the policemen what I remembered wearing the day we left the house, even though my body feels like it has been run over a thousand times I then continue on and explain my whole morning to them right up to where I last remember.

"You say your daughter had noticed some defacing of your mural?" The detective looked puzzled at this, like he had gotten a hold of a tiny piece of thread and was determined to pull on it to find whatever was underneath the web of mystery that surrounded my sudden disappearance and eventual reappearance.

"She was upset about it too. I just can't for the life of me remember which part had been vandalised" Things were feeling less out of control but my head ached and I really just wanted to hold Anna in my arms and console her.

    As I reached out for her Anna recoiled from me "Chace, please just.... don't. I can't handle all this right now" She fled from the room without another word, my heart being ripped from my chest once again as I started to feel like I was to blame for this whole stupid mess.

My attention returned to the officers stood in from of me, Wallace was still scribbling away on his pad but the detective was gazing intently at me, like he could see the back of my skull and work out what part had been played by me in all this.

    Finally he introduced himself "Chace, if I can call you that?" I nodded my consent "My name is detective Swift. I have been assigned to your case from the moment your wife notified us of your absence" I stayed silent while he seemed so willing to talk, my mind was still swimming and I was grateful of the opportunity to collect my thoughts. "You say you were struck by a car? Is there anything you can remember about it? Anything that may help us identify the driver and try and get us a step closer to finding Freyja?"

"I.....Think it was black. That's all I can remember seeing. I certainly can't recall anything about the make of the car ir who was behind the wheel. The last thing that I remember is pushing Freyja to the side of the road moments before blacking out"

    Swift jotted down what little information he had gathered from me along with the details of where I had said the accident had occurred. As he stepped away from me, poised to exit the room and leave me wallowing in sadness and pain, he announced something which simultaneously shocked me and rocked me to my core.

"When the doctors found you outside the hospital they examined you immediately. You had all the hallmark wounds associated with being struck by a vehicle at speed..... But somebody had already tended to them."