Mornings had been awfully quiet in the days leading up to Sunday, almost too quiet. The birds had seemingly gone into hibernation, cars somehow slipped away, without a trace of noise. Merely dropping a coin would've alerted the neighbourhood, or so I had thought.

The morning of, I awoke to a creaking within the house.

5:00am.

Immediately, I rose. Who was awake at this hour? Threatening to shatter the silence that enveloped the town, I crept toward the window, sneaking a glance through the cracks in the blinds. Dad?

There he was, marching towards his car. His phone was the only thing he held, alongside his keys, his face an unreadable book.

I stayed glued to the window, where could he be going at this time? Surely it wasn't just me who had heard him leave the house?

Tiptoeing, I passed his bedroom. My mother was missing.

Alarm coursed through my body at once. Mum had gone to bed last night, I had seen her. I hadn't heard her leave. Today was a Sunday. She also didn't work on a Sunday. Mum's car was also still in the driveway.

It was then that I heard the engine of dad's car start. I had to be quick.

Running down the stairs, I flung the back door open, swiping my helmet as I started pedalling. I had to stay calm. I had to remain unseen.

Dad notoriously was a fast driver. However, today was different. He was swerving across the roads, had there been anyone else on the road I have no doubt there would've been an accident.

I chose to take the woodland route. I could faintly see the light of the car whilst concealing myself in the foliage. We were getting closer to the pit.

The pit had earnt its name within our town years prior. An earthquake had shattered the ground, leaving an opening as deep as what one could imagine the sea to be. It had been cordoned off, obviously, but that hadn't stopped people's intrigue. In fact, it might've been coming up to the anniversary of little Meryl Pettigrew. 11 years old, she had followed her brother and his friends out towards the pit.

Unbeknownst to them, little Meryl was planning to scare them, she had constructed a master plan. As Meryl approached her brother and his friends, their back to her, they were suddenly diverted by the sounds of police sirens approaching. Unfortunately, little Meryl's plan hadn't consisted of her brother and his friends diverting away from the pit, she had mistimed her run.

She couldn't stop herself from falling.

Little Meryl had fallen into the pit. She had never been found.

As we approached the barriers that separated the pit from the town, my heart rate began to spike. Why was dad driving closer to the pit? Why was he here, at this time? Where was mum?

The engine shut off. I came to an abrupt stop, concealing myself behind an Oak. Now the barrier had been made shortly after little Meryl's accident. Years had since passed, Everyone knew there were openings, it's just nobody was stupid enough to try and pass through them. Except dad.

Peering round the tree, I saw him crawling through a piece of the fence that had deteriorated. I had no choice but to follow.

As I made my way through a sinking feeling overcame me. I could hear him whispering, who else was here?

As I pulled my way through, what stood before me shocked me to my core. Why were mum's arms tied? Why was dad dragging her closer to the edge?

'DAD!' I screamed, adrenaline pumping through my body.

He turned back, his mouth slightly gaping. Mum strained to turn her head, her eyes pleading, her face battered and bruised.

Horrified I cried out, 'What did you do?'.

Dad let out a laugh of despair. 'Just stay quiet Elspeth, please.'

Dumb-founded I shook my head.

'Dad, NO! That's my Mum, your wife! What are you doing?' I scanned the area, looking for anything, anything to help prolong the inevitable.

'I have to Elspeth. They told me to.' His voice cracked, he was crying.

They told him to? Who? What was he on about?

I had no other choice.

'If you even think about completing whatever is going on here, Mum won't be the only one who falls into the pit, Dad. Hand yourself in, you're clearly sick, Dad. Hand yourself in, or I won't hesitate to push you.'