A Live Interview From Lena Anderson's Story

(-- removed HTML --) (-- removed HTML --) “Daddy, I'm scared!” a five-year-old little girl whispered, "Daddy, I'm scared!" she whispered again balled up tight in the corner of her closet. "Daddy, I'm scared!" it was the only words the little girl could say. "Shh, little princess it will be over soon." the male whispered covering the little girl's mouth with his hand. The floor began to creak outside the panel doors of the 5x5 closet that held both a terrified little girl and her strong father hiding from what was outside the door. "Wheels on the bus go round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round," a male voice began singing on the other side of the doors. "The wheels on the bus go round and round," the male continued listening
"Lena, I know it's probably hard, having to answer all these questions. I apologize, my boss wanted the first live interview from Lena Anderson, the girl that survived," Lehane spoke calmly, sitting in the chair with a notebook in hand, she wasn't a reporter, she was an assistant for some C.E.O of some large firm that inquired strange things. Why her boss wanted this interview was a mystery to her, but she did it. Mostly, because she needed her job, it was the only thing keeping her afloat after moving back to Seattle, Washington from Boston. "Don't worry about it, this is something that I have to do," Lena spoke setting down two glasses of water one for each of them. "Alright, thank you for at least taking the time to do this, You said it still feels like that night was yesterday?" Lehane spoke softly pressing record on her phone. Watching Lena take a deep breath in and out quickly she nodded her head letting the words fly out of her mouth, "It does, yes, sometimes it still feels like I am that little girl hiding in her closet, that little girl that's telling her father that she's scared.." Lena paused for a mere moment before she continued with what she was going to say. "That little girl who watched a man with black
It had been six months since Lehane had moved back to Seattle from Boston and back into her childhood home, the place that Lehane barely spent her days off. It was hard for Lehane to even walk through the doors most days but she did it, she did it in memory of the man that taught her to be kind, compassionate, carefree, forgiving. The man that showed her that he would always protect her from whatever was out there lurking in the dark. Stepping into the elevator, she shook her head trying to fight the urge to break down once again. Every time Lehane thought about her father or who his memory she would begin to feel lost, confused, but mostly she would wish that it was her there that night. That it was her who had died, that it was her who had been on the raid, that she hadn't of missed her flight out of Boston because she was fighting with a friend who once again failed to pick her up from work. Pressing the top button on the colored panel Lehane swiped her access key as someone slipped in next to her. Hitting the close door button she waited for the car to start moving, Lehane needed to get back to work, she needed to get this recording from her interview with Lena Anderson to whomever it was supposed to go. And, she desperately needed another cup of