Joanna was 4 years old when she first mentioned 'that place' she visited. I can be no more specific of where exactly 'that place' is, as she never called it anything but 'that place'. It hadn't ever worried her parents; they never thought of it as anything other than her imagination (which had already proven to be extremely efficient as she had always been one for telling stories about multiple different scenarios that were purely made up in her head). But the ways in which they brushed off these stories changed as Joanna grew.
“Don't worry, it's just her imagination,” turned into “Why do you let her watch so much f---ing TV?” and so on. It wasn't as if anything had changed in terms of the frequency that Joanna spoke of 'that place', it was really just down to the deterioration of her parents marriage. But Joanna never thought of it that way, she couldn't understand why her parents changed the way they acted towards each other, and towards her, all she knew was that it wasn't like it used to be. Her parents never took her out, treated her or gave her any way to occupy her time; they simply let her be. This never bothered Joanna (as she had always been a very independent girl, even from being young) except once, when she asked to be taken to the fairground, and her mother slapped her for being greedy. She never asked again.

Joanna was 7 years old when she went missing for the first time. One morning, she set off for school, but never made it there. Her parents were both working, and didn't manage to find out until that evening. But before they even managed to pick up the phone to call the police, Joanna pottered back in through the door and sat at the table asking for dinner. And after that, it happened again and again. Joanna would disappear for a day, then walk back in as if nothing was wrong. Her parents stopped keeping track of it eventually; Joanna's little adventures became neither a worry nor priority in their minds. It was when Joanna was this age that she starting drawing pictures of 'that place' she visited. It started with little scribbles on the back of the odd sheet of paper, but quickly evolved into a small sketchbook full of pastel colourings. Now, I do not know for what purpose these drawings were, as most children draw pictures to show their parents and get a hug and a “congratulations”, but Joanna got neither of these, and so she never bothered to show anyone. This leads me to believe the drawings were simply to note down what she saw. In fact, she became very secretive over them as she grew older, yet still continued to add to the collection everyday.

Joanna was 8 years old the first time anyone ever noticed these drawings. It was a girl in her school class that had noticed Joanna sat with her head down over a sketchbook all the time when the other children were playing and, as children do, she pursued her curiosity. “What are you drawing Joanna?” she asked. But Joanna did not stir, she simply continued stroking the yellow pastel across the page. The little girl thought it had been the sun that Joanna was drawing, but she couldn't be sure. The girl quickly lost interest and ran off, laughing and playing with the other children. Joanna looked up briefly as the girl was walking away, and thought that it would be nice to have someone to tell about her adventures, and 'that place', but quickly dismissed the idea.

Joanna was 10 years old when social services took her away from home. She hadn't known or understood why the woman had taken her from her parents and was merely told that it 'wasn't a good enough home for a nice little girl like her'. Joanna disappeared for a while that day. No-one could understand how she kept going missing, especially now she was under closer supervision. She hardly ever had a moment completely alone, but still, she went on her adventures, as she called them. “It is as if she just disappears into thin air,” many people had thought, but had shooed the thought away; no-one can do that.

Joanna was 11 years old when she first asked the staff in the home if they could visit the fairground. It was only in town once a year for 5 days at the very start of summer; when the weather would be best. On the morning they visited this place, the sun was blazing down over the hundreds of people at the fairground more than usual.

When they arrived, Joanna had no interest in anything but the carousel. She begged for turn after turn. The woman she was with was watching Joanna very carefully. She noticed how Joanna started every turn around the carousel full of excitement, yet exited with the look of complete disappointment every time without fail. The woman was curious, yet knew not to bother asking; Joanna was very private. The next day, Joanna had asked to be taken back to the carousel to 'try again' but they refused, and Joanna cried. No-one, other than her parents when she was a very small child, had ever seen Joanna cry, so this, in turn, was a very odd experience for the staff at the home. She begged continuously, until eventually the fairground was packed away and gone for the year.

It wasn't until the next year that Joanna got to return. This time she went alone. She spent the entire day on the carousel, spinning and spinning. Listening to the repetitive chime of the music that played through the centre of the machine. And laughing. Joanna never laughed.

That evening, a woman from the home was checking on the children, only to find that Joanna had not returned home. Now normally, if Joanna had disappeared, she would return before the evening, but that wasn't the only thing different about this one specific occasion. A small sketchbook was left on Joanna's bed. The woman turned the front cover, and flicked throughout the pages of this book. Colourings and paintings and sketches filling every speck of paper. This woman has never spoken of what she found in Joanna's sketchbook; except the final page. A pastel drawing of a small carousel, with the sun beaming down over it. The words: 'They told me this would take me to that place forever' written over the top.

Joanna was 12 years old when she went missing for the last time.