wrandomwriting

The world is spinning. My almond shaped brown eyes sting with tears, and my knotted dark hair has soft clumps of earth stuck to it. I know that my eyes are filled with fear, anxiety, and so many more emotions. I push myself to allow one emotion to reign over the others. To break the solid walls of my fears and give me strength. It is the one emotion that I know I can win this war with. The only thing I know I have, that these men- if that is truly what they are- do not. Love.

Two years ago, on my 13th birthday, strange men flooded my home and took me away. They came silently in the night, and nobody knew I was gone until morning. I do not know why I didn't scream. I tried, but something about the way they looked at me, caused the piercing scream to freeze halfway up my throat; an icy pinicle of horror. One of these strange men looked at me in a different way. He had glowing green eyes and flaming red locks that I could see slipping out from underneath the strange, eery war helmets that sat on their heads. In his stony face, I could find some compassion. For one moment, I felt the courage to scream. To leap out of these men's arms and run to away and never look back. But before I could make a sound or move a muscle, he had looked away. None of the men looked at me like that in the 2 years Ive been locked up here. And I will always remember that one that was different.

To Be Continued