After what seemed like an eternity dawn came upon us and with it the fear that we would be found, we had to continue running, we hadn’t gotten sleep the night before out there in the night air, that didn’t matter though we needed to run, we needed to get away. Kirsten and I were both exhausted but we knew that we had to run, run as fast and as far as we could..

This time we did not run, not like before, but walked at a fast pace like we were in a hurry, if we ran it might raise people suspensions, after all we were teenagers and teenagers by many people’s way of thinking were never up to any good.

As we walked briskly again the memories started coming, the memories of the man who must have been our real Father, not only him singing to us Butterfly Kisses, but I started seeing other things like the fact that he had black hair, and brown eyes.

He use to look at us lovingly with those brown eyes, and I remembered feeling comforted around him. He had a way of soothing us, not only when he sang but when he was reading to us, or just looking at us.

I had a little more to go on when I started looking for this man the man I knew in my heart of hearts was my real Father. I could not bare to think about him being dead though, it was a reality I was not ready to think about, if it was in fact a reality, this man Andy, who we had called Father all these years may have killed our real Father.

We quickly grew tired but we could not stop we had to get as far away as possible. Somewhere that he wouldn’t likely look for us. We needed our freedom because if he found us it  would mean death, if not of our bodies of our spirit. Kirsten and I finally found a place when it started getting dark and old abandoned house.

It was kind of creepy because it reminded us so much of the basement we had been locked in for so long. We knew that we needed some place that was dry and somewhat warm, at least warmer than the wet night air.

We fell asleep exhausted but sleep didn’t last long, because each noise we heard brought us fear, it didn’t matter how small or big the noise. Each time we fell asleep it seemed some sound in the old abandoned house would wake us up. Finally we decided to not even try to sleep we were just going to stay awake talking in hushed tomes trying to remember more about Father, the man who had really loved us.

In the moments when it started to grow to quiet Kirsten and I would quietly recite poems to one another, poems by Robert Frost, and Emily Dickinson, and of course we would pray, pray that we would find our freedom and then be able to tell the cops about Andy and have him locked up for life, for the murders that he had committed.

A sound came from outside, and Kirsten and I froze, hoping that no one would come in we sat in an eerie silence. Each noise, each footstep we heard made us pray even harder that we were not found that whoever was there would not come in.

Soon we heard the creaking of the old door, and then the sounds of heavy footstep, and we knew it was Andy, but could not move we were paralyzed in fear. All we could do was pray that he would not find us huddled together in the small closet.