In the last twelve days, Eleanor’s been missing seven times. Each time she comes back in the morning, worse for the wear but no serious damage - on the surface. There’s no longer anything I can do, except keep praying. God, why are you doing this? Why her? Why me? I want to shout at Him, but I know it wouldn’t be any good. I never listen hard enough to hear the answers. I remember a song I heard ages ago … “I keep on shouting, but all I hear are echoes, I keep on looking, but memories are all I see” … It’s a good song that. And that’s exactly how I feel at the moment.
If only Eleanor would talk to me, like she used to! If only I knew what was wrong! I know I’m repeating myself, but the thoughts are just going round and round inside my head, and bouncing off each other, so I find myself repeating them.