Teardrops on Golden Pages

            I looked around the room. The candlelight created moving shadows all around the room. I felt safe here; among friends. In reality, no one could hear my screams for miles around. But that was the point " to be completely alone. Well, almost…

            “Bye Mom!” I screamed as I ran out of our house. I had my new red rain boots on and it had just rained. I could see a rainbow above the trees in the park across the street. I jumped in every puddle I saw as I ran down the street toward my best friend’s house. Of course I never made it there.

            A large black SUV came out of nowhere and the door opened as it pulled close to the curb. I didn’t know what was happening and didn’t have time to react. An arm reached out of the opening and dragged me into the van. The doors shut and I heard rubber screeching on pavement as we sped away. I could make out the shapes of two men in the van. One was driving and the other had his hand over my mouth. The only thing left was to wait.

            Looking back, I was probably the only ten year old girl who would have reacted that way. I was so calm about it; and that’s why I lived. I had always forseen some horrible fate falling upon me. My mother always warned me growing up. She said he was out to get me; to take me away from her, and that was why she was so paranoid all the time.

            When the van pulled to a halt some time later, it was dark and all I could see were trees, a small light in the distance and the stars above me. No moonlight had shown that night to give me faith. I was surrounded by things foreign to me. In the city where we had lived, the only trees were those carefully groomed in the park. There was so much light pollution you were lucky if you saw a single star. I knew my life would never be the same again after that. I silently said my farewell to my mother and my life.

            The men each took one of my hands and lead my up the hill through the trees toward the light. As we neared, I could make out the light as a window in a small wooden cabin. If I stared long enough, it flickered. But that could just be imagination. Either way, it helped loosen some fear I was holding.

            Inside, the cabin was bare. There was a table with a candle on it in the center of the room and a rug to one side. At the table sat two rickety chairs. Against the wall opposite the one with the window were two twin beds. Overall, it was a very shabby rundown place. Despite this, it seemed very homey and pure to me.

            One of the men spoke to me. “Would you care for something to eat?” he asked. He seemed very afraid he had scared me but had a smile when I calmly shook my head and replied “yes please.”

            A cooler materialized from beneath one of the beds and he pulled out three foil wrapped packages. It smelt very tantalizing and soon my mouth was watering. He passed one to me and offered a second to the other man. I unwrapped the foil, revealing a delicious looking warm sandwich. I tasted it, and it was surprisingly good. I had never eaten an egg salad sandwich before. And that’s how my days went.

             One of the two men was always there. They switched off like clockwork, bringing in food and clothes for me with each trip to the powerless cabin. They would bring me books when I asked for them and once a day I was allowed to play outside.

            Years passed by. They would bring me a cake and presents on my birthday and on the Winter Solstice. I always knew roughly what day it was. Once a week they read the bible to me so I would know about God. I assume that is Sunday.

            I grew and learned for six years before the day I will never forget came. While one of the men was away, a snowstorm hit and we were trapped in the cabin for three days. Every day when the man slept I searched the cabin for some kind of weapon. I didn’t find anything I could use. I couldn’t decide between killing the man and killing myself but I suppose I needed a weapon before I made the choice anyways.

            On the third day I found a dagger wedged between two planks in the wall. When the man awoke I looked at him with a crooked smile and pulled the dagger from behind my back. Before he could process the image I plunged the dagger into his throat and watched the blood leave his veins and trickle down his skin and pool on the floor around the bed. After an hour or so the blood was viscous.

            Before nightfall I heard the van come to a stop at the bottom of the hill. I waited for the door to slam and listened to the man’s footsteps up to the porch. When he opened the door, he opened his mouth to say something but before a word came out I had taken the dagger and drew a line across his throat. He collapsed to the floor, gasping. “Why?” he managed to choke out.

            I smiled and retorted my response, the final words he would hear. “Because, Sir. Just because.” I lit a candle and sat down in one of the chairs. Moonlight was showing through the window.

            I turned my head and looked out the window at the moon. Then I turned and looked to the doorway. On the floor was a pool of blood four feet wide. Near the bed was another puddle of blood. I got up from my seat and pulled out my new pair of red rain boots. I slipped them onto my feet. I could smell the new rubber, even over the stench of blood and death.

            Without another thought, I jumped in the puddles and thought of the day my life changed when I was just ten years old.

 

Splash, splash . . .