The Lost and Found

The Beginning (Section 1)

It was just like yesterday. I was five years old, and Mom and Dad were swinging me back and forth on the way to the park. I was, what they called, special. It was hard for me to interact with others and understand the basics of, well, anything. Well, as I was saying, we were on our way to the park. As they were swinging me, something caught my eye. Something different from the area around me, that didn't belong. I forced myself out of there arms and ran towards it. Not looking back, not thinking, just running. Running. Then, it happened. Right before I had the "something" in my hands, there was a loud tire "Screeeech!" And numerous screams. Immediately, I turned my attention to the sound and stopped. Mom. Dad. They were gone. And last thing I knew, I was waking-up in an adoption center for the next eight years of my life. And I never did find that "something," and I blame it everyday for the reason I am living the life I am right now. But like I said, that was when I was five. Now, I am thirteen.

Living in adoption center is no fun, let me tell you that. But it has its ups and downs. You get free food, the boys are separated from you, and a place to sleep. I honestly have no large memories of my family before. Just a faint thought of what they seemed to be like. Look, personality, places we went. But the longer I stay here, the faint memories or thoughts of my family become figments of my imagination. Like they were never there in the beginning. I have tried so hard to remember what that thing was. 

All I can remember was a bright light, hiding from me in the grass. Almost summoning me. Calling my name. Trying to get me closer, and closer. It was all my fault. I saw it, chased it, wanted it. Then my parents tried to get me but I was too fast. Then the car couldn't see them. And boom. Gone forever. That man never got arrested either. He was let free.

     And everything is my fault. I now can't be around bright objects or I have panic attacks. 

Some things are gone as fast as lighting a match, and the silent wind taking the flame with it a second later.