Chapter 2 - "You Don't Know What You've Got Til It's Gone" - Fergie's Story
June 5, 1999 - Tulsa, Oklahoma

"There she was just a walking down the street," Neuton sang with mock dramatics.
"Singing do-wa-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-do," Grubbery, Elizabeth, Kestrel and Mackie joined in.
The holiday had been lovely. Neuton was leaving for college in a few months so it would be the last family holiday we had for a while, possibly forever. And without Tweedle-Tay and Michaela, it wasn't even a proper family holiday. When would we let them out of the attic? We couldn't keep them in there forever...... I desperately wanted to talk to Skipper about what we should do, but, well, with eight children to care for, or even six, it was hard to get time alone.
"Okay, what song should we do next?" Kestrel said eagerly.
"I know, how about Aaron Carter?" Elizabeth said with a faraway look in her eyes. I groaned inwardly. Eleven year olds!
Grubbery groaned outwardly. "How about silverchair?" he suggested. "Just wait til tomorrow!" he said, making his voice deep.
"You found out I've got a crush on you!!" Elizabeth and Kestrel sang over the top of him with squeaky falsettos.
"MMMPop....." Neuton attempted weakly. MacArthy joined him.
Mozzie began to cry.
The noise was just too much. I had a screaming baby, two little pre- teen teenyboppers, a wannabe grunger, and a pathetically uncool adult all singing different things in the back seat. I looked over at Skipper, who was nodding his head along to the mangled beat. Why wasn't he doing anything? Finally I couldn't take it anymore. "Shut up!!!!!" I screamed, turning around to face the children. The car screeched to a stop.
"What did you do that for?" Skipper said angrily. "We could have had an accident."
"I thought you liked our singing....." Grubbery said, pouting.
"I'm sorry," I said, my hands fluttering up to my neck. "I do like your singing........ I just need some peace and quiet. You weren't even singing the same songs...."
My children looked back at me, silent and wide eyed. Finally Skipper said, "Well if there won't be any more surprises, I guess we'll get going again."
And so we rode back to the house in silence. Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of the house. "Oh my lord!" Neuton said in shock. We all (except Grubbery, who's hands were busy elsewhere) crossed ourselves. There was a hole in the front window of the house. My first thoughts were of the twins. What if they had been hurt? "The little shits," Skipper mumbled under his breath. He obviously thought the twins had made the hole.
We got out of the car and slowly approached the house, Skipper and Neuton leading the way. Skipper unlocked the door and we all walked inside. Half the furniture in the house was missing! The book shelves had been raided, there was mud all over the floor, there was no food in the fridge.......
My eyes widened with terror. I yelped and started to run up the stairs. I came to the attic door - it was slightly ajar. I ran up the attic stairs and found - emptiness. The beds were unmade, but they hadn't been slept in for days. The television was still there, and so were a lot of the twin's belongings, but enough was missing, enough important things were missing....... Michaela's purse was missing. My first instinct was to make the beds. As I folded the sheets neatly, I looked at the attic, I looked at the walls, the first time I had looked at them properly in a year and a half. I saw the mural, I saw the neatly printed pages, I saw what I had done.
I cried out in a mixture of pain and terror and collapsed onto the floor. "What have I done?" I cried out, weakly. "What have I done?" I knew what I had done. I had destroyed the psychological well-being of two normal, happy teenagers. Now they would destroy mine.
I heard footsteps walking up the steps of the attic. I moved quickly, but not quickly enough. As I began to push the door close, my son, who was now as tall as I was, pushed it open. I looked at Grubbery. Grubbery looked at me, at my tear-filled eyes. And then Grubbery saw the mural on the wall, the paintings of the blonde children. Tweedle-Tay was artistic and the pictures actually looked like the twins.
"Tweedle-Tay! Michaela! They weren't on the streets - they were in the attic! The whole time I was missing them they were right here in the attic the whole time, weren't they?" he screamed.
I couldn't say anything. I couldn't lie again. The truth had to come out sometime, but how do you tell your son that you've emotionally and physically abused his brother and sister?
"You bitch!" he yelled, slapping me across the face. "You don't love your children at all - not any of us. If only the Tay and Kay weren't in the attic Manson would still exist and we'd all be happy! Instead they've come to their senses and left! Well guess what? I've come to my senses too! I hate you! I hate Dad! And I hate Neuton! I'm leaving and I'm going to find Kay and Tay! FUCK YOU!!!!!" he bellowed at me, and ran down the stairs.
I lay perfectly still on the floor, sniffing, sobbing, crying. Fifteen minutes later Grubbery returned, holding a backpack. "Goodbye, Mommy dearest!" he said, kicking my leg and turning to walk quickly down the stairs.