Can You Hear the Stars Calling?

Questions

We both laughed together, but mine was a sad
laugh.

For all those girls out there. All of them missing family or friends or both. For all of those girls who would forever be alone under the moon.

~~~

Half an hour later, the sun dipped low in the sky, almost gone and my mom returned to be with me in the hospital. She brought extra clothes and my knitting things to keep me entertained.

Though I appreciated the thought, I- I couldn't do it. I'd been knitting since I was 12, but still had to look at my pattern when knitting. Every time I looked down-

Those bruises screamed at me. Shackled me to my memories and made everything come flooding back. Just one glance sent my head fuzzy and my ears drowned with static.

I gave my mom the best smile I could, but told her my arms hurt too much from the IV. She faltered for a moment, but soon smiled sympathetically. "Of course, sweetheart." She stashed the yarn away in her bag.

I closed my eyes as anger simmered in my stomach. My mom and I had been knitting together for the last six years and one night can take that away? We'd made countless scarves and gloves and blankets together. Two men can take those precious moments from us? Anger boiled within me for the next hour.

After some time, the police officers returned holding styrofoam cups and sympathetic smiles. "How are you holding up, champ?" The man said.

Champ? I thought to myself, struggling to keep from rolling my eyes. "Fine." I said flatly. Calm down. I told myself. It wasn't their fault that they were doing their jobs. It wasn't them who gave me these bruises or their accompanying memories.

"Um, right," he shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "We'd like to ask you a few more questions about last night. Is that alright with you?"

I looked to my mom, happy to have her by my side this time. Her reassuring smile simmered my temper. "Yes." I replied looking back to him.

"Okay, great," Taking a breath, he continued, "Earlier, you were walking us through what happened. Can you tell us what happened after you found the two men and the woman?"

I recounted the story from that moment. Talking about me grabbing the scissors from my bag and pointing them at the men. Remembering how the man grabbed them from my hands and pushed my head into the dirt. How I jumped up to attack him after he kicked the woman. Shaking and rubbing my wrists gently as I told them about his friend holding down my wrists while he unbuckled his pants. The scissors fell out again and we both lunged for them.

"I cut his wrist," I told them, remembering the moment. "A deep cut from his inner elbow all the way down to his wrist. It was bleeding pretty badly, but..." I trailed off. "He-he didn't care. There was...a rage in his eyes. He grabbed the scissors again and..." I hugged my stomach, wincing when I pulled too hard.

A moment passed. Suddenly my eyes widened. "I-" I started. Eyes glued to me, the officers looked ready to write down the first thing out of my mouth. "His name-" I remembered. "His name was...Dan," I stared at the officers. "His friend-the man in the suit told him-Dan to let me go when he pushed my head on the ground."

The officers looked at each other in silent contemplation. Then, the woman spoke, "Could you give a description of the men to a sketch artist for us?"

I paused. "I-I don't know. It was pretty dark," Having to look at their faces again, even if it was just a drawing.

She looked disappointed. "Anything helps."

"Then," I sat up a little straighter, ready to do whatever I could to help, "I can try."