| I woke up from a deep sleep
|
| I must’ve had a nightmare
|
| But I really cannot remember
|
| My heart was beating up out of my chest and I was cold
|
| I must’ve left the window cracked
|
| Twenty-fifth of September and the winter’s coming back
|
| The house is unusually quiet and I’m wondering where Sabrina’s at
|
| By this time at eight o’clock
|
| She would’ve been pullin' on my blanket
|
| Saying daddy «I want some cereal»
|
| Wondering where her mommy’s at
|
| My door is wide open
|
| I can hear the breeze hit the curtains
|
| Wind chime hangin' on the front porch singing
|
| Sabrina must be asleep
|
| I pull back the sheets
|
| Get up and walk toward her room in the hall
|
| Not a peep, not a sound, not at all
|
| The anxiety of a father is settin' in
|
| As I turn the corner to her room
|
| Her Mickey Mouse blanket’s on the floor
|
| She isn’t in the bed
|
| I take a deep breath, put my hand on my head
|
| Relax
|
| It’s a game of hide and seek
|
| She’s in the closet I know it
|
| I open the door «Gotcha!»
|
| She isn’t there
|
| The faint sound of the television from downstairs is playing some cartoons,
|
| she’s on the couch of course
|
| How did I oversleep?
|
| «Baby girl, why didn’t you come wake up daddy?»
|
| Not a response
|
| Fear turned to frustration
|
| «Sabrina, answer me»
|
| «'Brina, this isn’t funny»
|
| I ran to the couch, she’s not there
|
| I’m startin' to panic and I’m lookin' up everywhere
|
| Guest rooms, bathrooms, cabinets
|
| Under the tables, the attic
|
| Wait a minute, oh God no
|
| I know she wouldn’t go outside
|
| We live so far back in the woods
|
| She wouldn’t dare
|
| It’s too scary for a little girl just to go bye-bye
|
| I’m trying to escape my mind’s eye
|
| But my imagination is runnin' wild
|
| At this point I’m talkin' to God
|
| «Please Lord, please I’m scared, help me find my child»
|
| I run to the basement (Sabrina!)
|
| Sweat beads on my hands
|
| Pacin', thinkin', pacin', thinkin'
|
| Turn my face in
|
| The screen door to the backyard’s ajar
|
| I run to the swing set
|
| Swing set? |
| No
|
| Sandbox? |
| No
|
| God dammit Sabrina where’d you go?
|
| There’s a trail to a pond that I take her to every day
|
| Maybe she’s down there
|
| I run down the trail, it’s about a hundred yards
|
| We usually hang out on the pier
|
| And as I get close in
|
| Everything moves slow motion
|
| Her little white shirt on the surface of the water
|
| She was there — lifeless, floating (oh my God!)
|
| The pain I can’t explain, I couldn’t say anything
|
| I ran to the water
|
| God, is this really my daughter?
|
| I picked her up, she was heavy
|
| I held her tight in my arms
|
| I took her out of the pond
|
| I laid her down in the grass
|
| I couldn’t breath, I gasped
|
| Givin' her CPR, she wasn’t respondin' to it
|
| My phone in my pocket
|
| My hands are shakin'
|
| My vision’s blurry
|
| 9−1-1, send an ambulance in a hurry
|
| But it was too late
|
| No tellin' how long she wasn’t breathing
|
| Her skin was the color purple
|
| Her lips were ice cold
|
| She must have fell off the pier reachin' for her teddy bear
|
| She tried to get out, she got wood under her nails
|
| God, what did you do to us? |
| What have you done?
|
| I say my prayers at night, haven’t I been a good son?
|
| What did you do to my baby? |
| She’s mine, now give her back
|
| You don’t deserve her if you let her die like that! |