Finding Him

O N E

Lost

E L E O N O R A ' S    P O V :

The streets seem to whisper to me as the cars pass, the rain shatters on the cement ground. I'm cold.

I hate being cold.

I miss the warm arms of my papà. I miss spending almost every night in his bed. I miss his hugs, his laughter. I miss the comfort. He was so warm. Now I'm just cold.

"Here she is."

My eyes snap away from the teardrop-stained glass. They focus on the police officer in front of me. Gills. Real name is Officer Robert Gillian to me but Gills just sounds way better.

His fluffy, blond mustache eats away at his top lip, his arms crossing at me. I shirk back on my seat, biting my lip to cover up my nerves.

The other officer that picked me up leaves and Gills bends down to reach me, eye to eye.

"You can't keep doing this, kid." His soft voice leaves my heart aching for my papà. I can't help the tears that fall into my tear ducts. "It's not safe."

But he doesn't realize, no where is safe. Not without my papà protecting me.

I can't do it alone. I'm not brave enough.

Be brave, piccolina. His words deep into my mind. It claws the tears down my cheeks.

"Talk to me." Gills says. "You need to tell me what I can do to help you."

It's been two years since I have lost my papà.

In those two years, I have not spoken a word to anyone. No one but Gills. My words never go far but I trust him. I know he wants for help me but he can't. Only papà can. Only papà can find the bad people. He's the only one smart enough.

Gills would never believe me if I told him what happened to papà. But it's not like I remember much from that night anyways. It all happened so fast. One moment I was laying in bed with my papà and the next I was running. I was running so fast that I could hear the wind in my ears whistling to me like it was singing a song.

"I don't like them." I tell Gills quietly. He wipes a tear from my cheek. I push his hand away.

My new foster parents aren't as bad as the last ones. The last ones never stopped screaming at night. They would fight, it was scary. I used to cover my head with pillows, begging for them to stop. It reminded me of my own screams that night. Watching John die, watching them take my papà.

My new "parents" try to be like my papà. They try to tuck me in and hug me. I don't like it. I just want papà back. That is papà's job.

"What's wrong with them?"

I keep silent, sniffling.

They're not papà. I shake my head.

"Eleonora, you're eight-years-old. You need a stable home—"

"They are not papà." I rasp angrily.

"I promise I'm looking for him, darling." Gills tells me as his eyes soften. I flinch back from the hand he tries to place on my shoulder for comfort. "But we don't even know his name. In the meantime, bare with this family for now. Please?"

I shake my head no, tears flying from my eyes, drowning me in my own sorrows. My tears fall just like the rain. The rain is crying for me, for my papà.

My eyes go to the bracelet on my wrist. The friendship bracelet papà and I made for each other. It reminds me of him. The last thing I have left.

"Papà will always find me." I tell Gills sincerely.