I was ten years old when they took me from my parents. I knew it was coming but I didn't think it would be so soon.
I was walking back to my house from my best friend Peter's house; we had just come back from the lake. I had my towel slung over my shoulder and water droplets fell from my slightly damp hair. I opened the door to my house, 149 Whiten Lane. I was walking up the stairs to my room when my mother called me down.
"Lillian? Are you home." she yelled.
I walked towards the living room passing the kitchen and a bathroom.
As I walked into the living room I had noticed that my parents were talking in low voices to these men I had never seen before. One was African American and he was wearing a formal black suit with a green plaid tie. The other was white except he was wearing a plaid button up shirt with denim pants. He had brown hair and he was slightly taller than the other man.
"Mom? Dad?" I asked, more like whispered, looking at them, unshed tears glistening under my eyelids.
"Honey, how about you go upstairs and get cleaned up and we'll talk about this over dinner?" My mom said, her voice hoarse like she was about to cry, and there I knew something was seriously wrong.
As I was walking up the stairs, the only thing that I could hear was hushed whispers that sounded frustrated and worried. And all that I could think was, what have they done?
Hope you guys like it so far. I changed it up a bit.
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