Freed

1

**Maria's Perspective (POV)**

My world was confined to just three dimly lit rooms in the cold, unforgiving basement of our house—or what you could barely call a home; there was no love here to make it feel like one. I'd never met my mother or understood what a mother was. On the other hand, my father was a constant presence in my life, often accompanied by his friends. They would take turns beating me, each kick more brutal than the last. As they left, they'd toss down old food scraps to me, and I would always reply with a simple 'thank you,' bowing my head. My father had taught me that those were the only words I should ever speak.

My father was a kind person, and I considered myself fortunate not to end up on the streets. His friends often reminded me of that while I cried, and I would always thank him. I tried my best not to cry, knowing it only angered them, but I couldn't help it most of the time. Despite everything, I loved my father. I never broke a rule he set, and I would do whatever he wanted.

But all of that had to change. My father hadn't seen me in what felt like forever, and I hadn't had any food to eat for a long time. I couldn't tell you the last thing I heard from upstairs, but it was always yelling. 'Never go past the yellow line in the hallway,' my father's voice rang through my head. But I needed food, and sometimes, my father would forget. Maybe this was one of those times.

I waited, staring at the door on the other end. The longer I waited there, the more I felt like falling asleep. I took a deep breath. I knew I would get the beating of my life, but at least there would be food. As I stepped over the yellow line, I collapsed to the ground. I couldn't do this; I couldn't do that. And so, I walked right back into my bedroom.

I waited and waited, but before I could do anything, I fell asleep, fast asleep. My father was there, gently patting my hair as he always did. 'Now, now, be a good girl for Dad,' he said in the voice I had grown to love. I looked up at him, and then a horn grew from his head. I screamed as he startled me. Then, my eyes flicked open, and I felt worse than I ever had. I peeked over the yellow line again, and this time, I stepped over it, walking up the stairs to another partially open door. I pushed it open further, and everything was a mess—knocked over and broken. My belly growled loudly; I needed food.

I followed my nose; something smelled good, maybe it was food. Everybody said food smells so good. It led me to another bedroom where there was a half-packed suitcase. I moved it to the other side, and there was blood—lots of it, all dried up. Maybe someone was having a bit of fun, like Father would do to me.

I walked back to the door where I came from. I couldn't see any food or Father, for that matter. A nice, warm breeze came through another door. I peeked out to see things I had never seen before. Was this the outside? I smiled. My stomach told me it needed food. Maybe I would find some out here. I never wanted to go back to that house again for some add reason.

All I could see were trees, just like when I was little. One of my father's friends used to tell me stories of the outside world; it was our secret. He stopped coming around a while back, but most of my knowledge was from him. I danced around; I had never felt this alive before, except when I was drawing on the wall or floors. It was my only escape from my reality back then.

I walked for what felt like hours until I stumbled upon the end of a road. I followed it, with cars flying past me.

Real cars. I just stood there, looking at them as one got nearer and nearer, stopping right beside me. A young-looking man came out. "Miss, do you need a ride?" he said. I just looked at him before bowing and saying, "Thank you." He opened the back door of the car, and I wondered why I was getting in.

"Well, it would be rude not to do what he says, like Father always tells me," I thought. "Where are you heading, miss?" he asked. I was still too focused on the fact that I was in a car to realize that we were already driving. When it finally dawned on me, I was in such a daze that I forgot there was someone beside me in the car.

"Where are you going?" he repeated, this time louder. I looked at him and nodded before my belly let out a loud growl of hunger.
I had forgotten how hungry I was, so I focused on the fact that I was outside the house. The man looked back at me through the mirror. I smiled because Father had taught me that when someone looks at you, you must smile, or they might think you hate them.

"Miss, are you safe?" the man spoke. I stared at him in a confused manner. I didn't know what that word meant. "Safe" was an unfamiliar word; Father or his friends had never used it before. Perhaps it was a word from a different place, like Italy or someplace far away. I shook my head. Father didn't like it when I said no or didn't do what he wanted; he would yell at me. But this time, I said no anyway.

As the car continued down the road, my eyes remained fixed on the world outside. It was a world I had only heard stories about. The man continued to speak, I payed no attention to him. It was a while before we stopped in front of a building surrounded by identical cars. I turned my head to stare at him. Why did we stop? My face must have looked full of confusion.

"Come on, we're heading in," he said, smiled. I nodded and followed him, trying not to lose track of him as I wandered in a weird pattern around the parking lot, attempting to touch every single thing I could.

"You can wait out here if you want to," the man told me. I didn't know how long he was in there, but he came out with another person, a woman. I bowed as they came nearer.

"Hi, I'm Lora. Can you tell me your name?" the woman, Lora, said. She led me inside the building, and the man who brought me here left. I paid no mind to it; my father's friends sometimes left in the middle of their "fun" with me. Lora sat me down in a comfortable spot in a cozy room.

"Do you know where you are?" she questioned. I shook my head.

"You're at a police station. Do you know what that means?" I nodded my head. My father's friend, who always told me stories, told me he worked for the police. They were the good guys who punished the bad guys. But that was top-secret; I couldn't tell anybody he was a police officer.

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Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There's more to come next Sunday.

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