Story

Kidnapped.  6 years old. Playing. Lost.

It had been 10 years.  Stuck in a rotting cabin with just it to keep me company. Him. The man who stole my childhood. Several opportunities had arisen for me to leave him, but I was scared. Scared of the world I hadn’t been in for 10 years. But then came that day, a Wednesday to be exact. He’d just come back from the nearest town, it was about 8pm. It was after 5 minutes of him returning home I noticed the slight beam of light coming from the moon outside. The door. The door was open. This was my chance.

I gathered several of my few belongings I owned and made for the door. I placed my feet on the sweet moss covered floor outside, and ran. Thoughts of my family racing through my mind, carrying me through the dusky woods. Once the adrenaline had left, I took to a more suitable pace and continued on. 

The woods. They always had such an eerie atmosphere. It almost felt like someone was… following me. I felt it, the sensation that someone was watching me. And then reality hit. It was him. He was there. He always would be, he’d never let me go. I almost started to just give up, even walk back to my ‘home’. But this was the closest I’d been to getting out of this controlled world. I’d keep going; if he was there surely he would have come and got me already? I had to be right, didn’t I?

It was 11pm, guessing from the moon’s position. Paranoia was the feeling overwhelming my body.  Every sound, every snap of a branch, it was him. The moonlight reflected onto my pale skin. I took one last sip of water and swiftly hiked on. Behind me, perhaps a few feet, a flock of birds were disturbed. They flew into the night sky, and I heard another rustle.  A dark, slimy shadow fell before me. I didn’t even have to think of who it was.

To be in his grasps again. I couldn’t do it. Even the thought of it gave me shivers. I still had time to run. To escape.  Or was that not enough anymore? I could do it, I could kill him. Right here, right now. I had a kitchen knife in my bag, one shot, I had just one chance. His hand slithered onto my shoulder, ready to take me his prisoner once again. I had the knife in my other hand, ready to swing.

His body lay on the floor. I could feel the nightmare slowly draining from my head. It was finally ending. The world I'd lived in for 10 years, was changing. I took one last look at him, and turned, not ever looking back.

Escaped. 16 years old. Murder. Found.