I remember that night clearly when I was six.
I remember the rain pattering on the window as I crawled into bed.
I remember falling asleep in the warm haven.
I remember the window creaking open and opening my eyes.
Everything blurred together.
Someone grabbed me. I was questioning why I was outside. The rain pelted me and the wind howled in my ears. I absorbed every bit of the cold. I tried to turn back. Then I was stopped by a knife.
I remember thinking that this was a crazy dream.
When I thought I was at home again, I shut my eyes and fell asleep once again.
But when I woke up it was obvious.
This isn't home.
I had no idea who had taken me. Whoever he was, with his sinister hazel eyes, I became attached to him.
The next few years were confusing. It seemed as if my life there was my only life at all. I hardly remembered anything before then.
I do remember darkness. Pain. Thirst.
That was when I was younger.
Seven years later, I'm realizing what has really happened.
This isn't normal. I was too innocent to really know.
But now I do.
