AN: All these positive reviews have kept me going with this story. Thank You! I'm working on the next part, and hope to have it up later tonight - I've gotta do SOMETHING since House isn't on (stupid Billboard Music Awards). I'm also hoping that I'll have this story wrapped up by next week, as it's finals and I won't have the time to write. Enjoy!
The Road Home: Be Careful What You Wish For
I turned fourteen years old yesterday.
They brought me a cake and told me to make a wish. Knowing that wishes obviously DON'T come true, I made one anyway...the same one I'd made every birthday for the past eight years. I spent the rest of the day sitting by the window, idly staring, wishing that I could be anywhere but here. I couldn't help but feel bad though, seeing the melancholy look on Marie's face as she watched me blow out the candles. I'm sure in the midst of everything, she must have known what I'd wished for.
No, I'm not suffering from a bout of Stockholm Syndrome, it's real pity. These people were obviously hurting, enough to where they needed to do something completely insane to achieve happiness. I'm also confused as to what I should be feeling. They treat me well, but there's also two sides to everything in this house. Marie is a kind lady, she showers me with everything. On my twelfth birthday, she managed to convince David I should be allowed outside with supervision. On my thirteenth birthday, she brought me home a beautiful thoroughbred stallion (whom I named Dante...the only fitting name I could think of, as he is my only true friend in my own personal level of hell) whom I could ride in their large backyard. I felt bad for her. On more than one occasion, she'd called me Sarah, who I assumed to be the daughter they'd lost. She was mentally ill, and probably didn't know any better. If I didn't miss my real family so much, I would have been more than willing to just put on a brave face and face my reality.
The other side though, is the one that I think about the most. It's the side I think about when I imagine myself running away from here forever. I try and keep my cool around Marie for her sake. David though? He's the one who stole me from my real parents, the one who isn't afraid to slap me around when I challenge everything he says. He said if It wasn't for his wife, he would have disposed of me long ago.
And through this all, they watch me. The three times a week I'm allowed out back, one of them is there with me. I'm locked in my room most of the day, but when I'm not - they're watching...always.
The drive to be with my real family again, has kept me going all these years. Their faces are etched into my mind, the memories of six short years hidden from David and Marie, but constantly flowing through my head. I knew they were looking for me when it happened. The only contact I'd had after he took me away, was one sided. I'd find myself watching the news every night, staring into the face of my sweet mother, as she pleaded for my return. My father on television, offering up money, or whatever my kidnappers wanted in exchange for my life. News segments of search parties started - clips of my Uncle Jimmy putting up missing posters around Princeton. Eventually though, the media around my disappearance died down. My fate was unknown. Were they still looking? Would they even recognize me now? Have they moved on?
I was no longer a weak six year old. I realized to have these questions answered, I'd now have to take things into my own hands.
The day after my birthday started like any ordinary day. For the past couple of years, I'd built a routine for myself. I would wake up before the sun, get dressed and attempt to pick the lock on my door. I knew David and Marie's bedroom was a ways away from mine, if I could get out and be quiet, I stood a good chance of running. I also knew it was impossible for a person to be spot-on every second of the way. One of these days somebody was going to forget to lock the door, and I was just waiting for that precise moment.
Imagine my surprise though, when that very morning, I tip-toed to the door to find it was going to be the day I'd get my chance. I hurriedly grabbed the bag I'd had ready for years ( which contained my journal, my lone picture of my parents I'd managed to find and print off the Internet before David caught me on his computer, my ipod and $1000 I'd saved up) and slowly opened the door. I thought about venturing to the back of the house, to hear if David and Marie were still sleeping, but realized if they heard me, I'd really be in for it. I managed to get downstairs quietly (I have never been so grateful for carpet on the floors, it silenced my steps) and to the front door. I paused - after eight long years of misery, it was now just a piece of wood that stood between myself and my freedom.
I opened the lock and swung the door open. I immediately wished I'd just gone back to bed. Being downstairs so little in the years I'd been here, I'd not realized they'd had an alarm system installed. A LOUD siren started wailing. I bolted out the door as fast as my legs could carry me, and started running down the driveway, and out onto the road. I didn't dare look back.
As I ran through the open gates of our driveway (fate or some higher being was definitely on my side, the driveway gates were mistakenly left open last night) I heard a car start, and the recognizable sound of the engine being revved up. I entered the deserted road and took off running as fast as I could. I noticed a lone jogger about one hundred and fifty yards off in the distance, so I screamed out to him, in hopes that he would be able to hear my distress.
I wasn't able to tell if the person heard me or not, but knowing he was headed this way pacified me for a moment. I decided to stop and catch my breath. I turned around to glance back up the way I'd come. My stomach lurched as I took in the sight. David's black SUV was speeding down the road right at me. I should have run out of the way, but I froze.
The last thing I remember, was the flash of a silver car bumper - and the extreme feeling of pain as it all went dark.