#5. One Picture. One Story. || RUN!

WARNING: Look carefully at this picture because it has so much to tell you. 

I don't remember my name. I don't remember who I am. Neither I know what I'm doing here or where I'm going but there is one thing I'm really sure about: I'm runing away and I have to get away as far as possible from this place that imprisons me, that makes me feel insignificant. 

I run through the small and uncrowded streets. Avoiding dustbins, beggars lying on the ground and water puddles. The street does not seem very safe, I feel the danger in every inch of my body but that doesn't stop me. I keep running because I know they come after me, many are my persecutors and if they reach me they can kill me without any hesitation. And although I'm way ahead of them, they will end up reaching for me, I know.

"I have to reach an avenue, somewhere more crowded" 

I say to myself.
I keep telling me those words so that, at least, I can have hope.

I get to the center of this huge city, the traffic flows, people walk from one side to another. With a known  or unknown destination they keep walking. Some go faster than others but I'm there, in the middle, still, contemplating everything around me. All those lights, sounds and tall buildings. But none of this sounds  are familiar to me. None of what I see makes memories come to my mind. I've never been in this city before. I have never visited this city before. And  I don't know what I'm doing here. 

I take a deep breath.

I close my eyes and try to calm myself.

After awhile I open my eyes and start running again. 

Now I avoid people. People that seem respectable. People who dress well. People looking at me in surprise and that deviate to the side to let me pass. People that point to me with their finger. People who wonder what I'm doing on the street, running barefoot and in a white dress. People that label me as mentally ill. People that don't realize I'm there. But none of them know what is going on right now, what I have suffered, or from what I'm running away.

When I feel that I could escape, that I could finally be free, my luck is twisted. I cross a street without looking to the sides. A car is coming too fast. I get hit. The car takes me ahead. I fall to the ground and hit my head.

A circle of people forms around me, some wonder what has happened to me or who I am, there are others who are more intelligent and call an ambulance, some even call the police.

Then I feel that I separate from my body, my mind is being separated, it moves away from that circle of people, from the noise of cars. I see how my arms are covered in scratches. My face is hidden by my hair, hair matted with blood. But that, at this moment, produces no reaction in me.

My mind goes away more and more and the memories start to flow.

A park. Ten years ago.

 It is a spring morning and an eight year old girl is sitting alone with a backpack in her arms. I look over at her, her face, her hair and I recognize her. It's me. But I don't know how I got there or what I was doing there, alone.

Then, another memory, this time in a house. 

A lady waves goodbye to me, she gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves: My mother. My mother left me in charge of another woman, my nurse. As soon as we were alone she gets me out of home and we get into a car. 

We leave, and now I know it's for ever.

Again my mind returns to the eight year old girl sitting in the park. 

After a two hour trip, the little girl waits for her nurse as she has gone to the gas station to buy food. After awhile she's back. They get into the car again and keep travelling. It's already late at night.

When the trip is over the woman puts me in a little but homely bedroom but I'm afraid because I haven't been there before. I cry, scream and don't stop calling my parents, my grandparents and then my parents again. And at that time, sick of the noise I've been making they lock me in a darck room on the basement.

The room from which, after ten years, I managed to get away. A wet room, without light.

Then another memory, in that same park seven years after that trip.

It was one of those few times they let me go out to the fresh air. My looks are very deteriorated, I'm too skiny and dressed in big clothes that don't suit me. Tears stream down my face while I read the worn page of a newspaper. 

And then I remember. 

That article that talked about me, my family, my disappearance and how they had not stopped looking for me. The tears of sadness turn into tears of joy and a smile that has no other meaning than hope is being  formed on my face.

 And between the lines of this article I find myself, the person I am and that has been taken in an evil way. I find my name, Ariana. For me it is much more than a name. Much more.

I move away from that scene and slowly my mind returns to the present, to my current situationto, that car accident. I had fainted and I'm slowly recovering. I'm opening my eyes and I'm getting used to the light. Again, I hear the sounds of traffic, the bustle of people.

_ She's waking up!

_ Miss?

_ Keep calm, we are here to help you.

_ Your name?

Too many voices, too many noise.

_Ariana.

_ Is it your name?

_ Yes.

_ How did you get here?

_ Kidnapped. I was kidnapped ten years ago.

And I can finally relax again and get carried away by the fatigue that suddenly invaded me. I feel I'm on the stretcher in the ambulance, and I dream of seeing my parents at the hospital.

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All the stories found in this blog are written by both of us, and are original. Don't use them without asking our permission first.