The cool air of an overcast night filled my lungs as I leaned with one arm against the brick wall of the alley way I was attempting to hide in. My other arm was leaned against my knee, trying to keep myself up. As I peeled the hand off it revealed a fleshy raw scrape that covered the entirety of the kneecap. Blood was now stained over my hand.
“How did it get to this,” I panted to myself. It seemed I found myself in a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Next thing you know I find myself running for my life from…well I can’t really say. Was it a fugitive? Was it the police? I honestly don’t even know. It all unraveled so fast.
“Am…am I a fugitive now?”
My legs began to shake as the question burrowed its way into my thoughts. Suddenly my whole body felt heavier. It all started to set in and I finally collapsed under the weight. My senses went into overdrive. I could hear a ringing in my ears, and the taste of blood coated my tongue. It felt like my bones were rattling inside my skin. My breathing became heavy as my heart rate escalated to inhuman speeds. Could this be my body catching up to me now that all of what happened has passed, or is this my mind going hyperactive because it knew I was potentially fighting for my life here? All I know is I didn’t like it.
My mind raced with the thought of how I could have ended up here. The thoughts turned to screams. Screams I couldn’t control. Some told me to run, some told me to hide, some told me to give up. As they overtook me I took my rough scraped hands and cupped them over my ears. I closed my eyes and tried to shut them as tight as I could in hopes that I would wake up from this hell like it was all a nightmare.
It was then that a muffle pierced through the screaming inside my head. I thought I was saved. Assuming it was someone waking me up back to reality, I looked up. With my eyes open all I could see was the same alley way I ended up in before. This wasn’t my imagination. This was real.
“Excuse me mister,” a young girl called out, “can you help me find my Daddy?”
With her words, suddenly this one reality became clearer and the anxiety driven thoughts had slowly dimmed out. Still on my knees our eyes locked. Time began to slow as there was a long silence between us where I just stared. In my state of shock I couldn’t do much else, but after thinking about how I looked at this moment and how much that would probably make this child uncomfortable I blinked and tried to compose myself. With my arms shaking I shifted myself in her direction and struggled to get back up onto my feet. This proved difficult as my legs felt numb. They didn’t want to cooperate, but for the sake of this mysterious girl I persevered.
It was at this moment my anxiety began to kick back in full force. Now that I’m up I should keep running. You won’t lose them for long. Don’t waste the little energy you have left on whatever was going on here.
Despite all this my body moved almost unconsciously. I pushed past those thoughts. I have no idea if it was will or instinct that caused this, but I slowly walked over to the girl and attempted to bend down to her level. My joints creaked and pain shot through my nerves, but with only a small grunt I took one knee in front of her.
“Hey there kiddo. What’s your name?”
“Mary,” she said with almost too much confidence.
“Hello Mary. You get separated from your parents?”
“My Dad, yes.”
It was at this moment that the panic started to creep back up into my thoughts. I kept thinking about how I should not help. Someone else could do the same job. This isn’t my responsibility. I need to worry about myself.
Despite the feeling to run and hide that my psyche was displaying, I couldn’t help but suddenly feel like I was responsible. If something happened to her I could never forgive myself. I don’t even know how, but this girl somehow completely made me forget about the scenario I was currently in.
I spoke to her in a soft voice trying not to sound strained or show I was hurt saying, “of course I’ll help. We are going to find your Dad.”
What was I doing? This is not the time for this. I could have been dead a minute ago and now I’m helping some random girl. This is ridiculous. Although, when I think about it more she doesn’t seem like some random kid.
Against my better judgement I got up and said with fake confidence, “Let’s get a move on.”
With my current dilemma still ongoing I picked up the pace. Looking back, the girl seemed to struggle to keep up with my longer faster strides. She was in a brisk jog trying not to seperate from my side. I tried my best to keep a low profile, but I am sure I stuck out as I’m sure my face was pale from the pain and what I had just been forced to go through. My clothes were dirty, my jeans had small traces of blood sprayed on them, leaving them uncomfortably damp.
Looking out in front of us, I saw a semi populated market looking area or a shopping district. There were people with bags of goods going from store to store that lined each side of the shopping area.
“Not the best place to blend in,” I thought before turning towards the girl, “Alright, how about we go look this way.”
With little hesitation she exclaimed, “No we can’t do that!”
“Well why not?”
She responded by pointing her finger down the shopping area and saying, “Daddy was over here. So we need to go this way.”
This wasn’t looking good. I debated with myself how I could avoid this situation because going that way would be certain capture. But I couldn’t scare her off by telling her that.
I got back down on one knee in front of her and lied, “Well you see I get nervous around people, and if I go over there I may panic and run away.”
Thinking I came up with a clever excuse to find an alternate route she gave me a look of reassurance you don’t see often on kids her age and said, “You know what my Daddy always tells me? He says that it’s okay to be scared. As long as you be yourself that’s all that matters. He says you are who you are and not to let what others think ruin your condiments.”
“Condiments,” I said confused, but then thought that she must of meant confidence.
“That’s a big word I can’t say good yet. But Daddy always gives me a hug after he says it to make me feel better. So here.”
Without a second thought she wrapped her small arms around me as much as she could and squeezed. I was a little confused, but honestly it did make me feel better. Even if it was only a fraction of a percent better, I appreciated it. Somehow the roles were reversed and she was being the adult comforting the scared kid.
Shifting the tone completely she went back to a more assertive confident voice saying, “And I’ll hold your hand so you don’t run away.
She then moved beside me again and grasped at my hand. As I stood up I realized she had to reach above her head to hold my hand so I leaned down a bit to meet her halfway. Then she led us through the center of the shopping market almost pulling me along as I was hesitant to move forward with every step.
Looking around I felt like I could hear the thoughts of everyone around me. Whether it be a passing by or a short glance. Externally nobody seemed to show a sign of noticing, but internally I was sure they were passing judgement.
“What do they think of me? Do they know? Are they watching me? Should I run?”
Right as I was about to keel over from the anxiety and the pain the girl blurted out, “aren’t the lights pretty mister?”
She pointed at the street lamps that had begun illuminating down the stone pathway we were walking on. This did not sit too well with me either. I became nervous that the lamps would light me up for people to see me better. They might be able to find me easier if that happens.
“Daddy always said that the lanterns were like the stars we could touch when the sky was cloudy. I liked it when he said that. My Daddy is the best Dad ever.”
When she said that I couldn’t help but think back to how my father used to say almost the exact same thing when I was a kid, except he used fireflies instead of lanterns because we lived in a more rural area at the time where they sprinkled the night sky.
Thinking about it brought a small smirk to my face and I responded with, “He sure sounds it.”
Her face towards me she smiled back and said excitedly, “that’s the first time I have seen you smile mister. I’m glad you aren’t super duper nervous anymore.”
Continuing our search with her leading the way she hummed the tune of something I couldn’t quite make out. Before we knew it we came to an intersection between two pathways where you could turn to see more shops.
“Look, over there mister,” she yelled out.
Her walk became a run and she took me with her like I was a dog on a short leash. We arrived at a bench in front of a small shoe shop.
“This is where I last saw my Daddy. I was playing with a bug I found that curls up into a ball, and then he was gone and I couldn’t see him.”
Thinking about this the girl looked directly into my eyes like I could solve all her problems with some miracle. Little did she know I was busy trying to make a miracle for my own problems. Trying to do something I turned 360 degrees back and forth looking to see if I could find anybody looking for a lost child.
Unable to find anything I began to say, “Sorry kiddo, your Dad doesn’t seem…,” before stopping myself.
I didn’t want to make this girl cry or anything. I should be a little more sensitive.
“How about this. We wait here at the bench just in case he comes back here to find you. Sound good?”
“Will you wait here with me,” she said in a somewhat saddened voice.
“Yes, I will stay with you while we wait.”
In an even more pouty sounding voice she said, “Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Really, really promise?”
“Look kiddo, what is it going to take for you to believe me?”
With this her face turned into a gleeful grin. She then stood up straight with her back as taut as piano wire and held one hand out and the other up next to her face.
“Please put your hand on the bibble,” she said with a sense of command as she shook the hand sticking out in front of her.
I questioned her, “The bibble? Uh…I’m not sure I’m following. What is a bibble and what does it have to do with this?”
She spoke in an exasperated tone like it was obvious, “you know, like they do in the bad guy rooms with the guy who smacks the hammer and yells order.”
With a little thought it became clear. She was talking about a bible and how people swear under oath to tell the truth. This is quite the process. Don’t kids just do pinky promises anymore. She must see this stuff on television or something. Either way, I proceed with what she asks. I hold my right hand up and place my left on top of hers.
“No, you can’t touch my hand. There needs to be room for the bibble.”
I apologized and raise my hand to make room for the imaginary book. I noticed they weren’t shaking like they were before, but trying not to get distracted I then awaited for her to swear me in to tell the truth.
Instead of reciting the whole speech though she just pauses and says, “you really, really, REALLY promise?”
At this point I think to myself that she clearly didn’t stick around for whatever television show she saw that on, but I can’t expect much from someone as young as her.
Keeping my hands where they were I say, “I absolutely promise with the utmost certainty that I will remain with you at this bench until we locate your father. I will never leave your side kiddo.”
I tried to add a little dramatic flair to keep the whole swear on the bible or bibble act going. She chuckled a little bit and then proceeded to take a seat on the bench. She wasn’t tall enough to reach the bottom so her legs dangled a few inches above the ground, but she seemed content swinging them back and forth.
She looked at me with a big smile and said, “Wow never-ever is a long time mister.”
“It sure is,” I responded, “but I promised, didn’t I.”
Suddenly another not so pleasant thought crossed my mind. It was the thought of my family. When I started that family I made a promise not to leave them, but just this night I have found myself in a situation where I could have died. If everything goes south I may leave them behind. The thought hit me like three tons of steel as I slowly slumped into the bench seat. I looked over at the girl and she clearly still had no idea about what was going on or that something serious was happening. I suppose it is better that way though. I wouldn’t want to scare her, but I was puzzled by one thing. Even a girl as young as her would probably be startled by seeing a man bleeding and panting in some unknown alley.
Thinking about the events that have unfolded I asked her, “Hey, why did you come up to me for help? I mean, there are lots of people here and you chose some guy kneeling over in a strange alleyway. Didn’t I scare you or didn’t your dad tell you not to talk to strange men.”
She put a finger up to her chin and thought before saying, “well you aren’t a strange man. You are nice and friendly.”
I pondered on her words. She only began to think those things after she asked me to help, what about before?
Interrupting my thought she said, “also we are the same.”
I darted my head over to her when she said this. What is that supposed to mean? Is this the kids weird way of explaining something or is she have some kind of deeper meaning behind that statement.
“You know, I saw you and you looked sad and lost and hurt, and I was too.”
Expelling the air from my lungs, I sighed understanding what she really meant by that comment. Suddenly though I realized she said she was hurt. At this point something in me kicked in. I became worried about her being in pain. I was terrified about how she was hurt.
“What happened? Who hurt you kiddo,” I said in a raised voice.
She then pointed to her knee which revealed a small scrape.
“When I first lost my Daddy I fell over trying to find him.”
Realizing I was panicking over something small I felt relieved. That relief though, made me think. Over such a short period of time I found myself worrying about this girl, going along with her antics, and just generally caring and wanting her to be okay. The thought of what I was dealing with before began melting away and all I wanted was for nothing more for this girl to get home safe because the thought of leaving her, or leaving anyone on their own is truly terrifying.
About an hour went by with very little change. The girl continued playing with the bugs and I told her how I always called them rolly pollies. She got a kick out of that. Eventually she fell asleep on the bench leaning up against me and I was left with the subtle sound of crowds of people. I looked down and realized she was holding my hand again. I quickly thought about the blood on my hands from earlier tonight. Looking back I probably got my blood all over her hands when she grabbed it before. I began to pull back my hand when I realized my it was completely clean. There was no blood on my hand.
I thought about how odd this was, but was interrupted when in my peripheral vision I saw looked one of the men I had been running from some time ago looking around down the pathway we had walked down. I began to panic. The tight chested feeling I had felt when I first collapsed in that alleyway took hold of me again. It was as if a cold hand had wrapped around my lungs. My breathing became restricted. It had felt as though all the blood in my body had begun rushing down towards my legs. I wanted to run. I wanted to get away from him as far as I could to avoid the tragic fate that may become of me if he found me. I felt heavy and my brain began inputting the command for me to run like hell. It was at this time I heard a small groggy yawn come from beside me.
Suddenly I stopped. All thoughts of fleeing were overwritten by the promise I had made not long ago. This girl had entrusted me to find her father, she had made me feel calm in a time when tranquility seemed impossible.
“Should I just give up on this? Should I run? Would it be okay to take her with me?”
These questions swirled around my head forcing me to imagine every possibility of how things would turn out. However, that wouldn’t be fair to her. I shouldn’t drag her down with me, and as much as I knew my life depended on it, I couldn’t bring myself to abandon my promise and abandon her. My internal struggle proved no match for this young child. So I shifted myself back to the position I was in and tried to relax the best I could so not to scare her.
It was no good though. My hands were shaking out of control. She looked down and clearly could feel it. It was as if there was an earthquake striking the palms of my hands shooting out into each finger individually. I couldn’t stop it and clearly she noticed. All I could think about however was how close the man was to the bench we were seated at.
Time went slow motion. I could feel the heavy moisture in the air. The footsteps of surrounding shoppers left a heavy resonance as they walked forward and yet it still felt muffled over the boom of my heart in my ears.
“It’s okay mister,” she gleefully said intercepting my mental process, “You don’t need to be nervous about the people, I’m here for you.”
Somehow despite not knowing a single thing about what I was worried about she said exactly what I needed to hear. She borrowed her way into my thoughts and wouldn’t let go, grounding me in such a way that she felt more like an adult than I ever could be. Perhaps that is all I needed. Perhaps our meeting was the one thing that would prepare me for whatever happens next because all I wanted now was to make sure this little girl was safe and that she would grow up happy.
Loosening my grip on her hand I looked one last time to make sure I hadn’t stained her with the blood on my hands. Relief fell over me as there was none. None on her and none on me. I looked up again to see the man sitting at an adjacent bench with only a few people separating us and he was staring directly at me.
I tightened my grip once again holding on to the only thing that seemed to keep me sane and told her, “Don’t worry kiddo. I’ll be here as long as I can.”
There was a moment of hesitation before she spoke with a mature voice saying, “It’s okay. I understand if you need to go. Thank you for what you’ve done till now.”
I was awake. It was over. Despite this fact I kept my eyes closed for a moment reflecting on the dream I just had. Was it even a dream? A nightmare? An opportunity? I couldn’t tell. My therapist seems to think it might be the latter. Whatever it was, it had been recurring for quite some time now and it never seemed to make sense to me. All I knew is that the he seemed to be the focus each time, while I took the role of my younger self, lost in an unknown environment.
“Chelsea? You awake,” my mother called from the other side of the door.
“Yeah Mom. You can come in.”
Opening the door, she walked in with a look of slight annoyance as she scolded me about how I still haven’t cleaned my room.
“It’s like you live in a cave. You’re going to have a rolly polly infestation if you don’t clean this place up a bit.”
With a big sigh I said, “Yeah…I know,” as I raised myself in an upright position to talk to my mother.
Walking over my belongings she took a seat beside me.
After a brief moment of hesitation she asked, “Did you have the dream again?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said reluctantly
“So you saw him?”
“Mhm.”
“Oh kiddo, I’m sorry. Should I make another appointment with your therapist”
“No, no, it’s okay this time. It wasn’t so bad.”
With a puzzled look on my face my mother asked me what changed. In the past these dreams scared me. I mean there was no way I could have known what happened that night and yet it all perfectly seemed to reflect the actual event. It almost terrified me. Last night though, I think I did see this as an opportunity.
“I guess this time I just knew. I knew I wanted to be there for him. So I went to him even before it all happened. He couldn’t recognize me, even if part of me wanted him to. Honestly though, I got the feeling that in the end this time he felt more at peace that everything else would be okay.”
I took another moment before I looked to my mother and said softly with a smile and tears in my eyes, “So at the last moment I told him what I always wanted to, and I think…or at least I hope it made that last moment a bit easier. I still know he was scared though.”
My mother looked down momentarily before saying, “Yeah…your father was probably terrified in the end.”