Midnight Invasion

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It was past midnight and I still lay restless in my bed. Gunshots kept awakening me in my sleep. But it wasn't literal gunshots waking me up it was the flashbacks of what happened on April 5 1972.

I'll never forget that day. It was a home invasion and my six year old little girl Isabella was in her room sleeping. My wife, Melanie was sleeping on the couch. I was still awake doing paperwork for my job. I heard a knock at my door and so I went to answer it. But I hesitated before I turned to knob because it was 2:21 in the morning. So I thought maybe it's a neighbor or a family member of Melanie's. So I opened the door slowly and I peeked my head out. But nobody was there, so then I started to worry slightly. I locked the door and turned around and bam! I got hit with a seventeen inch crowbar. I just got a glimpse of the intruders face. I hit the ground and I saw him run into my daughter’s room I yelled "No! Don't take my little girl! Please!" I saw him carrying Isabella down the hallway and I yelled again "No!" He ran straight at me and hit me again with the crowbar. That's the last thing I remember.

I'm now fully recovered and am back living at home with Melanie. It's been six years since the invasion. My baby is 12, I hope. I have traced evidence left and right. The police say they don't have enough of it though. But I do.

I vaguely remember that night. I still hear the cries of Isabella as he took her out the door. Guilt burns through my heart because I could’ve saved Isabella. I know longer live in that house but I’m going there this weekend to investigate.

I still wonder how Melanie didn't hear anything or wake up. She said she thought Isabella and I were playing a game. Part of me says that she knows something and the other half says she's telling the truth.
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I went to the house yesterday to see if I could find anything more. I found the I.D of the man that took Isabella. Keith Francis. I went to the Police Department and asked if they could do a background report and find the address of him. They said he’s had two reports of robbery and has spent a night in jail for a fight in a bar. 227 Frankfort Street was the address. In Kentucky two and half hours away.

I went that night and found his house in about three hours. I waited outside his house until I saw a car pull up. I went and knocked on the door and he opened the door. “Welco…” he said. He went to his knees in atonement. I pulled out the crowbar he left at my house. “Remember this?’’ I asked him were my daughter was and I wanted to know now. He said in the basement. I ran passed him and went to the basement. I saw Isabella sitting there, frightened and cold. I ran to her and hugged her. I was afraid she had forgotten me but she hugged me back and said, “I missed you daddy.” As I was leaving I called the police. All I know is am going to have a good night sleep for once.





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