He Sent a Bandage While Our Daughter Bled Out

On my daughter's sixth birthday, all she wished for was to spend the day at the amusement park with her father. But Patrick Carlson had reserved every damn park in the city for his precious Laura Cramer. His assistant tore up our tickets right in front of us and sneered, "Know your place, madam. Mr. Carlson is occupied."

Through the fence, I watched Patrick "occupying himself" by making out with Laura. Our little girl squeezed through the bars calling "Daddy!" only for him to shove her away.

"You know Laura lost our baby because of you," he spat. "She's fragile right now, and you bring this brat here to upset her? You're pure evil."

Then the monster locked my sobbing child on a ride, hit the start button, and coldly told me, "You whined and cried to come here. Now you're playing. What more do you want?"

"Nobody stops that ride without my say-so," he ordered. "Let's see if she dares misbehave with you again." With that, he cleared out all the staff and left with Laura.

By the time I smashed into the control room, the bungee platform was soaked in blood. I clutched my baby's limp body as the Carlson family elder arrived. "Patrick murdered my daughter!" I screamed. "I'll make him pay in blood!"

The family doctor checked her pulse. "We can still save her - get her to a hospital now!"

But at the ER, that same assistant blocked us again. I collapsed to my knees begging, "Patrick's torturing me, but please, just let my daughter see a doctor!"

The elder swung his cane at the assistant's legs. "Delay my granddaughter's treatment and you'll die with me!"

The assistant panicked at the blood on my dress. "Mr. Carlson took every doctor in LA to watch Laura. There's no one left."

"Goddamn it!" The elder started calling other hospitals only to learn Patrick, paranoid about Laura's "fragile mental state," had every physician in the city on suicide watch for her.

As my daughter grew colder in my arms, the doors burst open. "Mr. Carlson sent me!"