The persons involved were interviewed and told police that they would sacrifice many more lives for the greater good, and that without the land their souls cannot be saved and neither can anyone else’s. They want to create a fully secured sacred ground that only the followers can enter into. It has to be that ground because God told them it has to be, and if they don’t get it, the world will be taken in flames and so will their souls. Watching them speak in the online videos is more than a little terrifying, because they truly believe everything they’re saying.
The news reports don’t go into a great deal more detail, just that they’ve arrested the people involved in the shooting and are ‘working’ on shutting the rest of the group down, but without proof of involvement, that is proving to be hard. I’ve read about cults before; they’re as crazy as they are warped and will stop at nothing to carry out what they believe is right.
I keep reading, but I don’t find anything else. My chest is heavy by the time I’m done—heavy with dread and pain. Seeing photos of those who lost their lives, seeing the victims’ families speak, makes me want to curl up and cry until there are no tears left. I feel so alone, so helpless, and so damned afraid. I want comfort, but I can’t find it. I want to be the girl I was before, but she’s gone. I don’t honestly know how I’ll get through this.
Well, I think I do, but he’s nowhere to be found.
I open up another search and type in his first name and the name of the police station the cops that were there that night are from. Nothing comes up. I try Heath; nothing comes up either. I search until my fingers hurt from typing, but I can’t find anything about the mysterious man who saved my life. I even resort to looking on Facebook and other social media platforms. It’s as if he truly doesn’t exist. I find the baseball stadium website and open the contact page, sending off an email as a desperate last resort.
Hello,
My name is Lucy Jacobson, and I was at the baseball stadium when the attack happened. A stranger sat beside me, and this brave man saved my life. I just wanted to find him and thank him, but I can’t seem to locate him. I was wondering if you could give me his last name, so I might be able to get in touch.
I only have a first name of Heath.
Please contact me if you have any information.
Warm regards.
It’s a long shot, because the fact of the matter is even if they have it, they’re probably not going to give any information out. I hope I put the right name down, and wonder only after I’ve sent it if I should have put Hunter as well. I close the laptop and sigh, pushing it to the side. I have to find him. I just have to. I need to know that I’m not going crazy.
I slide out of bed, not even attempting to sleep, and walk out into the living area. Mom, Dad and Gerard are all huddled, talking softly amongst themselves. They don’t hear me enter, so I stop and just listen. They’re talking about me, and I know I should make myself known, but I can’t help it. I need to know what they’re saying.
“I don’t think she’s doing well,” Gerard says. “And it’s starting to worry me. She really believes there was a man there, but everyone I’ve spoken to has said they have no idea what she’s talking about.”
“She’s traumatized,” my dad says. “She just needs time.”
“She’s trying to find a man who doesn’t exist,” Mom protests. “Time isn’t enough. I think she needs help. We need to have her talk to someone; it’s the only way.”
“I have to agree.” Gerard sighs. “I can’t keep listening to her speak about someone who isn’t real. I’m afraid of what it’s doing to her mind.”
“She lost a baby, witnessed something horrific, and is trying to cope. Maybe give her some time to do that before committing her to the nearest facility,” Dad snaps. “She’s not crazy. She’s witnessed something awful which you couldn’t even begin to imagine if you tried.”
“I’m not saying she’s crazy,” Gerard snaps back. “But you haven’t seen the way she talks as if that man is a real thing.”
“Are you so sure he isn’t?” Dad fires.
Gerard flinches. “Nobody seems to know who he is. I spoke to the police and they had a list of all the people who had tickets that day; he wasn’t on there. Nobody saw him. So the chances of him being real are slim.”
“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t.”
“So you want me encourage my wife’s pursuit of another man?”
My dad growls. “She’s not done a thing wrong, Gerard. Don’t speak about her like she has.”
“She’s obsessing over a guy who’s made up. It’s crazy!”
“Okay, okay.” Mom sighs. “We need a plan that’s going to work. I still agree with Gerard. I think she needs help, regardless of whether this man is real or not, and I don’t think we can give it to her. She’s seen something awful, above all else, and that’s enough to push the issue.”
“I agree she needs to talk to someone,” my dad says. “But I won’t have her being called crazy.”
My husband thinks I’m crazy.
My mother thinks I’m crazy.
My dad is the only one who believes in me.
“I’m not crazy.”
They all spin around, eyes wide, and stare at me. Gerard leaps up. “Lucy, please don’t get upset. We’re just worried, and—”