Unfound

1

Most people would say they have a normal childhood. I wish I could say the same. When I was seven years old, I was kidnapped. It didn't take all that long for the police to find me, but the two weeks I was in confinement felt like years - though, when you're seven everything feels like it either takes years or seconds.

The man who had stolen me from my home was one that my family had referred to as a friend, so when he came knocking on our door, I wasn't afraid to open it up to him. He was always kind to me and my family, and I was taught to look up to him and respect him. When he would pick up his kids, Braden and William, from school, sometimes he would give me a ride home as well, so I had no reason not to trust him. His kids were kind and funny and they loved him. He was my friend too and I trusted him as did my parents. His betrayal stung deep, even now I can't bring myself to say his name.

I felt bad for the guy, I really did and I still do now even considering all he had put me through. I know that sounds backwards, but he had lost his two young sons and wife in a deadly car crash that wasn't their fault. Some drunk truck driver slammed them off a road and they flipped into a tree, instantly killing his boys, sending one of them through the front windshield. His wife, unfortunately survived long enough to make it to the hospital after seeing her boys brutally killed, and died in the ICU. She was the one who dialed for help and tried to save her children. She had somehow managed to get herself out of the car and to the back seat, but she found them both dead. I always thought of her as a hero, her head was smashed in pretty well, but she was able to gather up the strength to call 911 in case either of her boys had survived, she couldn't believe that she had lost them both. She wasn't concerned for herself and mustered up the last of her energy to try and save her boys. Her widowed husband beaming with pride of her even after she had passed. Braden would have been nine when I was taken, William only six.

I knew he had been buried in guilt after that deadly accident. He hadn't been there, he hadn't suffered injuries or even faced death as he had. If he had been in the car with them, his guilt may have been less. If he had been emerged in the same danger, if he'd been beside them, fighting for his life, well I can't even begin to know how he'd be different. He may have been able to move on, to let go. But you can't change the past. He knew that, so he tried to change his future.

I didn't see it coming, not from him, but I don't think anyone ever expects to be kidnapped. It came out of no where, but it's especially difficult when it comes from someone who you trust. A friend. Not expecting them makes it worse once you finally realize what actually happened. You lose a little bit of trust in everyone else.

He had politely knocked on the door of my house one day after school. I opened up to him, not expecting a visit, but always excited to see him there. I thought it was going to be the mail man who I also loved when he stopped by. He was always bringing me treats or stickers, telling me how much I remind him of his daughter when she was my age. I was just excited about cookies and other possible gifts the mail could bring. I loved visitors. Who didn't as a kid.

When he our family friend realized it was me who had answered the door, he got down on one knee to be closer to my level. He had asked me if my parents were home, to which I replied honestly, no. He then told me that my parents were lucky, as he had always wanted a little girl. I knew that he was really saying that they were lucky because they still had their child, but I knew when to be quiet. I told him that my father had always wished I was a boy, to which he laughed. His laugh was sweet, not like bells as many people would describe a laugh, but more like Santa Clause. He was warm and welcoming, lulling me into a false sense of trust. He then asked if I wished to join him for some lemonade. Being seven, of course I wanted the goddamned lemonade and followed him outside to his car. I had been in his car many times before, I used to carpool with Braden and William to preschool. I liked his wife. She was always so sweet and had sweets prepared for us on the way back home. She made really good lemonade.

He helped me buckle my seatbelt, even though I tried to tell him I was capable enough, but I knew what he went through and was happy to have him help me. I was honestly just happy to be pampered. I was an only child so I got a lot of attention from my parents, but it was nice to receive to from others as well.

Then, we drove to his house. It seemed innocent enough. I wonder what would have occurred if my dad had opened the door instead.

I don't remember much of the drive, mostly him talking about pointless things that he observed about life. He observed that the girls always seemed so much sweeter than the boys, but still had a certain spunk and aggression to them that made us females difficult. I ignored him, happily, as any seven year old would do - probably singing songs to myself and finding patterns in the clouds - until he said one thing that stuck. He told me that he had hoped he would have clothes in his home that would fit me. At first I thought that maybe he had thought I was a different child, not sure of who he was truly talking to, maybe imagining his boys in the car with us. I asked him to clarify what clothes he had. He said for me, I would most likely fit in Braden's clothes, though they'd fit me more of a dress than a T-shirt, then he happily hummed to the radio. I thought it was weird that he would insist that I wear Braden's clothes, everyone knew that the boy's room was left as it was to remember them by, but maybe he was getting over it? Maybe he was just wanting to move on. I was confused, but being told it was rude to ask questions, I didn't muddle in, though I really wish I would have. I may have put up more of a fight if I had known what was really going on.

He then took me inside, gave me a glass of lemonade, and didn't let me leave until the police broke down his door weeks later. He was kind the whole time, well most of it, but I would never want to go back. He gave me my own "big girl room" in his basement. It sounds sweet, but that was only because I had broken something that belonged to one of his boys. I had started out in his boy's room, but after a few days he didn't appreciate me messing with their stuff. I told him that they wouldn't be home to find out, but he didn't appreciate that either. My basement room wasn't pretty and smelled worse than it looked, but it was comfortable enough with a mattress and some sheets. He eventually gave me plenty of things to do, after I had cried enough to flood the damn thing.

That was twelve years ago. During the time between then and now, I went to high school, graduated, got into a four year college, moved away from home during the semesters, and found myself a wonderful and kind boyfriend named Liam. Liam is strong and powerful, with the body - and practice - of a football player. Of course his bark was worse than his bite as I soon found out that he wouldn't hurt a fly or, more specifically, the spiders that invaded my space - I found him to be somewhat of a wimp around spiders, leaving me to be the one to take them outside, but he would deny it if I told anyone that. Of course Liam, as many of the other people who knew me or at least have claimed to know me, knows and understands what happened twelve years ago and we've gotten past it together. It's never an easy conversation to have, but it becomes relevant in daily life and is most likely where my claustrophobia came from. This man who took me was still in jail, serving his sentence, and my dad still visits him to this day to check in and make sure he's doing alright. You see, he was never a bad guy, just confused and sad, looking to fill the hole that his wife and kids had left in his heart and I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Another major thing happened during the twelve years between my innocent seven year old self and now which has not proved to bode well in my favor, I've been abducted again.