1.
"Go!" she hissed at me.
My mother pushed me impatiently towards my closet, panic clear in her voice. She looked back over her shoulder at my father, who stood motionless at my door, waiting for the inevitable, is what he said when I asked him what he was doing, at the time; I had no idea what it meant.
"Mommy, what's happening?" I asked her.
A single tear rolled down her face, and my eyebrows pushed down in confusion, even though I was only three years old at the time.
"There are some people that are looking for you, but they're not good people. Now, I want you to go in your closet, and don't come out until one of us comes and gets you, alright?"
I nodded, unsure if that was what I was supposed to do. There was a loud noise- it came from downstairs. My dad straightened up and came to me quickly.
He cradled my face in his hands, and gave me a brief kiss on the forehead. "I love you." He told me.
My mother wiped away her tears and pushed me towards the closet, putting a finger to her lips in a motion for me to be quiet. I went and sat in the furthest corner of my closet; behind a box and a few dresses I had hanging from the rack in there. I looked through the crack of my closet door, seeing my mom and dad kiss one more time, and him rub his hand over her pregnant belly. Four men came busting through the door, and I watched frozen, unable to move from my spot cowering in the corner. My mother and father turned to face them, no emotion clear on their faces.
"Where is she?" came a muffled voice from the other side.
I couldn't hear anything else, the width of the door putting a wall between us.
One of my parents responded, and then I heard a loud-echoing noise, reflecting off of all my bedroom walls, causing me to put my hands over my ears, and shrink as far into my little corner as possible. And then I heard my mother's ear-splitting scream, her falling to the floor, clutching her stomach. My father fell with her, holding her as close as possible. Another noise, and then silence. I heard footsteps and waited, too shaken to understand what was going on.
"I guess she's not here. Clear out." Came a muffled noise and then footsteps retreated.
I waited and waited, waiting for my mother or father to come get me from this spot in my dark closet. I don't know how long I waited; I heard sirens in the distance, and someone faintly calling my name, I didn't move. I had to wait. The closet door opened, and I squinted at the sudden burst of light. There stood a man in uniform, intently gazing down at my cowering form.
"I found her!" he called over his shoulder.
I looked over my shoulder as I walked the alleyways, Old men giving men giving me dirty looks, drug dealers working their corners, the prostitutes worked theirs. I sped up my walking as I remembered that particular memory, tucking it aside, not wanting to remember. I lived on the streets for as long as I can remember now, people have been looking for me since I was three years old, and those people killed my parents. My name is Sophie Adams, and I've been on the run for my whole life.
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