Safe And Sound

• Brianna Demiri, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2015

Bright light seeps through the window; I feel the warmth of the sun against my freckled skin. My body aches, my head is pounding and my hands are tied stiffly behind my back. Wait…what? Hands tied behind my back? Where am I? What am I doing? My eyes frantically search around the room; realization hits me and I call out for help. I’ve been here once before; I call out once again, this time I’m hit on the head from behind, my vision gets blurred and I’m out like a light…

I wake up this time, in an unfamiliar dark and musty room. My eyes scan the room; blank wall…blank wall… drawn curtains… another blank wall… man approaching me… huh? There’s someone else in here. I scream and kick my legs as I’m being blindfolded. He kneels in front of me and seizes my hands. His hands are scabby and very rough. “ I won’t hurt you… well not if you stay quiet and do exactly what I say,” he utters in a gruff voice, his breath smelling of alcohol. I nod. If only I could get a glimpse of his face. “Now, all you need to do is take this pill okay?” He places his grimy fingers to my pursed lips. I shake my head, refusing to give in. He slaps me across the cheek and I open my mouth in protest. He takes this as an opportunity to shove his grimy fingers in my mouth, pushing it further down my throat. I feel like I’m going to gag. He pats my head, almost dog-like, “Good, that wasn’t so hard now, was it, darling?” I scrunch my face at the word ‘darling’. Still patting my head he repeats, “Shh… you’ll be perfectly fine I won’t hurt you.” With that I feel fatigue wash over me and I dose off into a restless sleep.

“Ahhh….” I let out an ear-piercing scream. My father runs into my room, “What’s going on, are you alright?” I look around frantically as I start to cry. “I had a horrible nightmare! There was this guy and I was alone in the dark room and I… I…” I start to sob even harder. He looks at me with sympathy, “it’s okay you’re safe now, go back to sleep, we’ll talk about this in the morning.” I nod off into a deep sleep.

“Well, uh… it wasn’t just a dream”, my father informs me. I sit there my mouth agape. Faint flashbacks of being rescued replay in my mind, as I try to comprehend all this information. Truthfully I don’t remember much of that night. I don’t remember waking up. I don’t remember spending a week in that horrible building. Nothing. “You might not remember much of what happened. The doctors say that it was due to the severe trauma you suffered,” he continues. I’m unsure of it all but I sure am glad to be back home safe and sound.