Freedom Is A Lie.

Freedom Is A Lie. PART TWO

Okay so here is part two of Freedom Is A Lie! PLEASE comment what you think!!!! 

Thanks a million (: 

P.S if you didn't read part one your not going to know what's happening! 

Do you see what i did there? Now you have to read part one! 

ok sorry bye 

Part 2  

The year was 2006, and I was 10 years old.  “Kathrynne honey, I set up a play date with your friend John down the street, why don’t you start walking down there. I’ll watch you from the driveway to make sure you get there,” mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs so that I could hear her from my room. I liked John I thought that he was sweet, and just last week he told me that I was pretty and that he liked my hair. Because of that complement I’ve decided to wear it down today, even though its ninety degrees out. “Ok mommy, I’m coming.” I yell as I run down the stairs as fast I dare to without falling on my face like I did yesterday. I don’t even stop to take a breath, I just going and run out the front door. I slow my pace cause I don’t want to mess my hair up, it already frizzes in the heat, running will just make it look worse. I turn down the driveway and start walking. I hum twinkle twinkle little star in my head as I walk down the road, and look at the sky finding shapes in the clouds.

As I walk down the street I notice a white van at the end of it, and I hear the engine purr as it circles the cul-de-sac. I watch it with curiosity. Mommy always tells me to be careful around vans that look suspicious, but I would say that, that van looked suspicious it looks like any other big white van. It starts to drive toward me, I keep walking, I’m only a couple of houses away from John’s house, I hope he still thinks that my hair is pretty. As the van gets closer it begins to slow, but soon its right next to me. The side door slides open. Suddenly I’m terrified, I don’t know why. It could just be I nice old man who is lost and cant find his way out of the neighborhood. I look in the van; I hear a loud scream and look behind me. My mommy is in the driveway yelling something. “RUNNNN! KATHRYNNE RUN!” Mommy screams. All of the sudden arms reach around my waist and their pulling me into the van. I kick and yell and fight, but the arms that are holding me trapped are far to strong for me to break away from. My heart beats so fast I think that even the person holding me still can hear it. I think that my mommy warned me about this once. She told me that sometimes-bad people take little kids. What was it called again? Oh, yeah, right it’s called kidnapped. I think that I was just kidnapped. Mommy said that sometimes the kids don’t get to go home for a very long time. I hope I can go home soon. I’m really scared.

I sit up, screaming, it was like I was reliving it all over again. It felt like those arms were still wrapped around my waist. Beads of sweat grow on my forehead, and my palms burn with a passion. I look down and realize that my nails are still digging into them; my left hand is starting to bleed. Where am I? I look around the room with fear. The blankets on the bed are actually clean, the floors are made of blue and white tile, and the walls are some kind of cream. In the left corner of the room is a TV hooked to the wall. To my right there’s a door, next to it is a window. The three police men who shot me with the sleeping poison are standing in front of it along with the tall man who rescued me from the forest.

“Everything ok?” I hadn’t even seen her the first time I look around the room. There was a woman sitting at the end of my bed in chair. “You can talk to me, its safe here.” She says. HA! Nowhere is safe. How am I supposed to believe that I’m safe, when they have showed me no reason to trust them? I stare are the woman with the blankest face I can summon. The woman say’s, “It’s ok. Sometimes silence is good, it lets people think, and fell things they may be trying to hide away under a tough exterior.” I keep looking at her. She has bleach blond hair, it must be long cause the bun that’s holding it all together is very think. Her eyes are bright blue, she has high check bones and her lips are painted red. What woman feels like she needs to bring so much attention to her face that she has to make it look like she just sucked on a red pen? I look again at her hair. It’s so neat and perfect, the complete opposite of the monstrosity that grows on my head. My brown hair always seems to be in tangles and knots 24/7.

The women seems to be aware with the fact that I’m analyzing her, and she sits up straighter. She clears her throat, “My name is Rebecca, I’m and therapist, I’m here to help you. I’ve been told that you’ve been through some very traumatic times, and I’m here so that you and I can talk through them together.” I used to know a Rebecca, she was my only friend, I watched her die. I don’t trust this Rebecca; I don’t anyone, well except for the tall man. I trust him. I don’t want to trust him but I do. “The doctors tell me that you have a lot of scars on your back, do you want to talk about how you got those?” No. I don’t want to talk to you about anything. I fiddle with my brown-knotted hair, I seem cleaner than before, some one must have washed it. Actually my whole body seems cleaner. Just the thought of someone washing my hair scares me, but to think that they washed my whole body terrifies me. I feel violated. But I’ve been violated my whole life, it’s not like its anything new. I just want to scream. SOMEONE TOUCHED MY BODY AND I WASN’T AWAKE!!! What else did they do?  Why can’t I just be safe for once, why does this always happen to me.

I know its kinda short but i didn't have very much time to write it.