It was late one night. Raining. Cold. I was five. My parents said everything was going to be fine. Parents lie…

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I was sobbing in front of my bedroom door. My dad walked out and groaned,”Not again, Noah.” It was my daily ritual to wake everyone up with my sobs after having a nightmare. “The 3 eyed man came to eat me,” I cried. My dad walked out in frustration. I sobbed harder. Just then I heard a crash from the living room. I screamed as my mom stumbled out of the bedroom. “What is it Noah?” Me and my mom heard loud footsteps downstairs, as if they were daring us to come down. She raced into her bedroom and woke dad. Then she grabbed a revolver and a pocket knife. She tossed the revolver to dad and kept the knife. They raced downstairs and I rushed after them my dad yelled at me to stay put. If only I had listened…

I went down the other way, the shortcut, I was there before my parents. It was just me, a five year old and a fully grown man with a pistol. I was frozen in fear. He grabbed me and held me with his gun at my forehead and a knife on my neck. Just then my parents got there. Their eyes raced over the attacker and me the the put their hands up, still holding their weapons. “Put everything down,” a gravelly and deep voice said from behind me. In front of me I saw my parents drop their weapons. “Arms where I can see them,” the attacker shouted. My parents raised their arms. He let go of me but the knife sliced through the soft flesh of my arm. I cried out. My parents gasped, “run Noah run!” “Can I please see the cut,”my mother asked in a pleading tone. He nodded. She was by my side in an instant. She looked horrified at how deep the gash was, at this point the room was spinning, but she held me. Little did I know it was the last time…

I had no sense of direction as I raced through the freezing rain, and when I saw the hospital lights my body sagged in relief. I stumbled inside and the last thing I remember was falling then everything going black…

When I woke up my arm was wrapped up in gauze and police were waiting outside. When they saw I was awake they walked in. The woman cop started interrogating me about why my parents weren’t here, where I got my injury, and my address. By the time she finished, my head was spinning, and I was shaking so hard that they had to call the nurse in. When she asked if I was scared I told her about the cops and what happened last night. She then proceeded to stare at the cops in disgust and disbelief and asked security to escort them out. I heard them arguing outside my room. “He is a five year old kid who just got diagnosed with PTSD,” the doctor told them. I sighed wondering when my parents were coming for me…

A few days later I felt much better, so I was in the hospital playroom coloring with broken crayons, when a cop walked in with a grim face. “I’m sorry son, but both your parents are missing.” I remember dropping my crayon and after a while it sunk in. Then I started laughing not a mere chuckle, but a maniacal laugh that shook my whole body. For some reason I wasn’t sad, I just felt like there was a hole in my stomach. Just numb…

After a month the hospital was running out of reasons to keep me there, so I was put up for adoption. The next week the same nurse who took care of me while I was at the hospital adopted me. To be honest I was kind of glad that a stranger wasn’t taking me. I was her youngest child. She had 2 other children who were aged 11 and 8. And for a while life was okay until Emily, the 8 year old, realized that I got all the attention. She then proceeded to try to destroy my life by any means…

My first day of school was terrible since Emily was one of those kids who everyone followed and was extremely popular. She told everyone that I was mental, crazy, and a danger to society. At school she pretended to be the supportive and suffering older sister, but in real life she would pinch me, pull my hair, and kick me. “Poor Emily,she has to put up with that guy,” a girl passing in the hall said, but she didn’t see the bruises I was covered in. Honestly I was excited to go to middle and high school, where Emily couldn’t reach me, but little did I know she was planning something else…

“AAAAAAH THE DOG IS DEAD!!!” I heard a shrill voice shriek. When I woke up and went downstairs I saw nothing. Then everyone else started coming down. When they saw nothing they realized Emily was just trying to make them come downstairs, and now that I think about it we didn’t even have a dog. “What is it this time Emily,” my foster dad said in an annoyed tone. “He,” she said pointing at me,”set your car on fire.” “That is a very serious allegation Missy,” he said. We followed Emily out and gasped at the scene. The car was in fact smoldering. After the initial shock Emily said,” you may ask how I know it was him, well I saw him dragging gasoline cans to the driveway then hiding them under his bed. We all dashed upstairs. When Emily checked underneath my bed she uncovered not one, not two, but three cans of gasoline. “Bu- wha- I don’t understand,” I stuttered. “There is a very simple solution to this,” “I know none of you know about this but I thought it was necessary to put several cameras throughout the house,” Emily’s dad said. What the cameras revealed changed everything…

The cameras showed Emily bringing the gasoline from the nearby gas station and pouring it all over the car. She then tossed something inside(presumably a match or something) then walked away satisfied. As the car burned she walked up to my room and hid the empty cans under my bed. Finally she ran down a staged the false scream that we woke up to. “Why would you do that Em,” my foster mother spoke up for the first time. Emily’s face turned pale then she mumbled something about weeding out invaders. “You should leave, maybe go to you grandmother’s house…” my foster mother said.

For the first time since I was five life was normal, not happy, but normal. But I never felt like I belonged, not at school, not at home. That’s why I never stopped looking for my parents, and I never lost hope…

Right now I’m in a grocery store trying to find honey for my daughter when I see an old woman making her way toward me. Her skin hangs in bags under her eyes, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. She looks familiar though. I feel like I’ve seen her before. “Noah!” I gasp her voice is exactly like my mom’s. I hurtle toward her and wrap her in a strangling hug as if keeping her from leaving me again. She chuckles, “your dad’s waiting for you in the car. We rush to the car and I see my dad, by now tears are rolling down my face. I get in the car and we casually chat for a while and like I spent the last 15 years with them. Then I ask them the question that had been plaguing me my entire life,” Where were you?” Their breaths hitch. “Nowhere,” my mom replied casually. “Ok fine, lie,” I muttered angrily. The rest of the ride was immersed in a defeaning silence. When we got to our old house it brought back a rush of old memories that threatened to knock me over. As we sat on our old couch my dad finally spoke “we we underground, hiding from that criminal, he turned to be part of a mafia and since we had seen his face he needed us gone. “So why have you come out now?” I questioned. “Because their mafia has fallen,” he replied. I sighed. “Let’s watch SpongeBob,” I suggested. “I agree,” my mom said. As we watched I realized that I may have not spent much of my childhood with my parents, but at least I have them now. And that’s all that matters. For the first time since I was 5 I finally feel like I belong. Actually in a way they were right everything did turn out fine. For now…