“In My Hometown”
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in our little town. It was supposed to be safe; one of those towns where you never needed to lock your doors. Everyone knew each other and waved as they passed by. It was supposed to be normal.
For me, it was a normal day. I was walking home after school with my friend Bethany. Most days we walked home together. Her house was on the way to mine so I usually walked part of the way alone. However, we had a science test coming up, so I stayed at her house to study. We studied most of the night, so her mom made us pizza for dinner. At about eight o’clock, I said I needed to get home. Bethany’s mom offered to drive me home, but I lived only ten minutes away, so I said I would walk. My parents knew I was on my way home, so everything should be fine. I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door.
It was a peaceful night out. You could hear crickets chirping and the fireflies were scattered in the grass. I was almost home when a burgundy car pulled up beside me. I didn’t think anything of it. People always stopped us when we were walking home. It was a safe town. What I didn’t expect was the woman to get out of the car and smile at me.
“Hello. My name’s Roxy. What’s yours?” the strange woman asked.
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I’m not supposed to talk to people I don’t know.”
The lady smirked. “But you do know me. I just introduced myself. It would be rude for you not to do the same.”
Her logic, to my fifteen-year-old self, seemed sound. My parents taught me never to be rude.
“Annabel,” I replied. “My name is Annabel.”
Her next movements were a blur. I remember feeling a sharp prick in my arm, then I got dizzy and blacked out. When I awoke, I was in a dark room, tied to a chair by my hands and feet. I couldn’t see the woman anywhere.
“Hello?! I yelled, desperate for someone to hear me. “Is anybody there?!”
I heard a door open and footfalls on stairs. I couldn’t see who it was, as my back was to the stairs.
“No need to shout,” I heard the strange woman, Roxy, say. “No one can hear you.”
At her words, I began to cry. “I just wanna go home. Please, I won’t say anything, I promise.”
The woman laughed. “Yes, but I don’t really believe you. Besides, I’d rather have you here with me. You can be my little plaything.”
I didn’t understand what she meant by “plaything,” but it sounded ominous. She reached out and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. I pulled away, still letting out little sobs. I didn’t want her to touch me.
“Please…” I whispered. “I just want my mommy.”
“I’ll be your mommy now,” she said, tapping the tip of my nose. “You’ll be my little Annabel. Would you like to see your room now, Annabel?”
I nodded, sniffing. She untied my feet and then my hands. I stood, trembling, as she walked with me up the stairs, holding my hand the whole way. When we got to the living room, I stepped on her foot hard and ran for the door.
I got to the door with her right behind me. She grabbed my arm, but I lifted my elbow and felt it contact her face. While she grabbed her nose, I pulled open the door and ran screaming. I was surprised to see we were in the same neighborhood that I lived in, only streets away from my house. I could hear her running behind me, but in my panic, I ran as fast as I could. People were coming out of their houses and looking at me. I went up to the first person I saw and stood in front of them, panting.
“Call… 911… Kidnapped…” I managed to get out.
I looked behind me, but the woman was gone. I had run only about five houses down from where she was holding me. When the cops came, my parents were with them. It was about 6 am the morning after I had been taken. My parents held me as I told the police everything.
They went to the house that I was almost certainly the lady’s house. They found it empty with the burgundy car gone. They did find the chair and rope down in the basement, so they knew it was the right house. They also found, in a decorated spare bedroom, the skeleton of a little girl, about five years old. She had been dead for many years, and the police suspected that the girl was the daughter of Roxy, the woman who took me.
They didn’t tell me this, but I overheard them telling my parents. I began sobbing, thinking of what I might have escaped. But, to me, my town would never be safe again.
friends, hometown, kidnapping, neighborhood, parents, short story, walking home from school, writing
