Connie looked out of her bedroom window at the group of loitering teens. She studied each of the girls taking in everything from the curve of their noses to the colour of their eyes. She knew she was being irrational but she was sure that her baby was still alive and well just waiting to be found.
She still remembered the way she'd felt when she'd first held her. Everything had just clicked into place. It was as if her whole life has been leading up to this one wondrous moment. For two short days everything had been perfect.
She was happy her husband, Sam was happy and her gorgeous new daughter. The happy couple named their daughter Bree as a shortened version of breeze as Connie was sure that raising her darling would be a breeze
But after two days of pure bliss Connie was approached by a doctor who went by the name of mister Davenport. He claimed that her daughter was sick and that he needed to take Bree away to do more tests.
Four days later Mister Davenport approached Connie to tell her that her baby was dead.
The funeral was small and the coffin was closed as it was agreed by everyone that the sight of the body would only upset Connie further.
After the funeral Connie spiralled towards the depths of despair. After the initial shock wore off she became fixated with the idea that she became fixated with the idea that her daughter was alive. Her husband divorced her not long after the funeral had ended.
After the notion had entered Connie's she could not let go of the idea that her little lost lamb would one day be returning home to her and so even after 14 long years every time she saw a child the right age she would fruitlessly give them a thorough scan looking for her baby