Unbreakable

Introduction

My father was a good man who made bad choices. I spent a lot of time resenting my father for the choices he had made. I know now, that everyone makes bad choices. It's all about how you react to them.

I remember, quite clearly, calling out for my father while I lay with my hands bound together in the back of a moving SUV. Even after hours of it, after my throat was achingly dry and I was out of breath, I kept calling out for him. I remember my tears running fiercely down my cheeks and pooling into my hair. I remember the moment I realized that no one could hear me. I remember darkness. The only thing I could focus on was the smell. Stale and foul, like there were years worth of sweat soaked into the rough carpet under me. The thought of what had happened in here before me sent me calling for my father again. My throat was too dry, and I ended up in a coughing fit. A man's voice yelled to me.

"Keep it down!"

I felt sticky and hot and I squinted through the dark to try and see where the voice came from. I could see an outline of a man, two actually. It was so dark, I wasn't sure how they could see the road ahead. I tried to sit up for a better view, but the van hit a bump and I was thrown back down. I tried to remember what happened, where my father was, where I was. Everything felt so hazy and the more I tried to remember, the louder the ringing in my ears became. I remember wishing it would all stop. I forced my eyes to shut and everything fell away around me. Back into the thick darkness.

I was so sure in that moment, that I was going to die. I had squeezed my eyes closed and I had prayed the same way I'd watched my mother pray. I had pictured some big strong man with a long grey beard in a white robe holding a wooden staff that matched him in height staring down at me with a big smile. My mother had spoken of this man who could do miracles, who saved people. I imagined him plucking me from the back of the SUV and delivering me into the arms of my father.

But then the back hatch of the SUV was pulled open and a man yanked me out roughly by my arm and threw me onto the ground. Luckily, it was grass and it only hurt a little bit compared to the pain that followed in the next few years.

"Get up." the man said, yanking me to my feet again. I blinked up at him, trying to decide if I recognized him. He was tall, towering over me. At that moment, I would have sworn he was the size of a building. I saw his growing stubble and wondered if it felt like my dad's. Even if I would have tried to feel it, I never would have reached it with my short arms.

The man pulled me forward, following after the other who was nearly to a door set in the side of a stone building.

I felt so tired, and weak, the man must have been supporting the majority of my weight.

I stared up at him as he pulled me towards the door.

"Where's my dad?" I croaked through my dry throat.

The man let out a groan and pulled me harder.

I tried to pull against him, but it was like pulling against a metal pole. He didn't even react.

"Where's my dad?" I repeated, louder this time.

"You'd be better off forgetting about him." he grunted.

"Where are we going?" I asked, panicked by his answer.

"Shut up!" he barked down at me.

"I want my dad!" I yelled, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

And then he hit me.

I remember being so shocked the tears seemed to dry up immediately. I threw my free hand over my burning cheek and he pulled me forward as if nothing had happened.

Even as they forced me into the the dreary run-down building, I held on to the hope that somehow this God would rescue me. I have trouble remembering the moment that I gave up on God saving me. Sometimes it's hard to remember details from what happened, but there are somethings you can never erase from your memory no matter how hard you try to scrub them out.

They brought me to a room that was dimly lit and standing in the middle of it was a man in a suit. He was short, but still taller than eleven year old me. His skin was dark, he looked sort of like Mr.Rodriguez who taught me in the third grade.

They threw me down onto the ground at his feet.

He kicked me with his foot.

"Stand up."

I stared up at him. "Who are you?"

He looked behind me to the giant man, who pulled me up again.

"Where am I?"

The man in the suit smiled, but I remembered this only made me feel more uneasy.

He stepped towards me, and I tried to step away from him, but the man behind me made it feel like backing into a wall.

The man in the suit grabbed a strand of my hair. He ran his fingers through it and I wanted nothing more than to be back home.

"What's your name?" his breath rolled across my face and I couldn't help my face from squinting up in disgust.

"What's YOUR name?" I asked with a frown.

He smiled, showing all of his teeth.

"I think I'm going to like this one."

Something about him made me sweaty and panicked.

"Take her to a cell."

The cell was a garage. That's how I understood it then.

The walls were grey stone. No windows, and a garage-like door. They closed it on me and no matter how much I screamed or banged against it, they wouldn't open it again. There was one, dim, flickering light bulb.

"Hello." a voice called from the corner. I stared at her as she slowly walked towards me. She stopped, kneeling in front of me. "I'm Mel."

She smiled, but it wasn't like the man in the suit's smile. Her smile made me feel a little less scared. "What's your name sweetie?"

I wrapped my arms around my knees.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me." she pushed a few hairs off of her forehead. "How old are you?"

I chewed my lip, staring down at my fingers. "Eleven." I mumbled.

"Oh dear." she said softly. "You're very brave for someone so young."

"Where am I?" I asked, thinking I would finally get an answer.

She sighed. "I don't know sweetie."

"Why am I here?"

She pursed her lips, the way my teacher did when I told her my dad never showed up to take me home from school.

"Are you scared?" she asked suddenly.

I nodded slowly.

"Good. Hold onto that feeling."

I looked at her confused.

"No matter what happens, keep feeling. Remember what it's like to feel. You're going to be okay sweetheart."

"Is my dad here?" I mumbled.

"I don't think so."

"When can I go home?"

"Where is your home sweetie?"

"With my dad." I said feeling the tears again.

"Hey." she put her hand on my knee. "You're going to be okay. We're going to be okay. I promise."