All I remember is that I was running. Running as fast as I could and as far as I could go to avoid getting caught. There were a million thoughts going through my head but my body was only telling me one thing… run!

It was a sunny day, not one cloud in the sky, and the sound of birds chirping resounded in my ears. I was walking to school when I had a sinking feeling. I was being followed. At the moment, I didn’t know what to do; the same white van had been following me the whole way to school. I began to worry. Following my instincts I began to call my mom, but it was too late. The white van, whose exterior looked like it had been beaten up, pulled next to me and slid its door open. My heart sank and I was frozen in fear. Two men in black clothes and ski masks ran out of the van and abducted me. I kicked, screamed, scratched, and cried but they were too strong. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and a fear greater then any fear I have ever experienced was building up inside of me ready to explode. Once I was inside the van they blinded me. All I could see or thought I could see was a vast darkness whose end deemed invisible. Everything happened so quickly, but after a few minutes in the van I was knocked unconscious.

I woke up in what I thought was a laboratory or maybe a freezer. Looking around all I saw were expanses of empty space and a few clattered tables made of silver or metal; I was not sure. Everything was foggy, and the world seemed unreal until I was slapped. Slapped so hard it felt as if my jaw was being crushed and I could do nothing about it. Vaguely aware of my surroundings, and still foggy from the drug they injected me with to make me unconscious, all I remember hearing was a man with an extremely deep voice continuously asking if I knew who my mother was and what she had done. After building up tremendous amounts of courage I responded with a very meek and low-pitched whisper saying “no…”

Hours of interrogation continued, and the whole time a group of four men were trying to convince me my mother was an FBI agent. This sounded ridiculous to me. The same mom who went to all of my soccer games when I was little, makes me dinner every night, and is afraid of bugs could not be an FBI agent; it just didn’t make any sense. Beaten and tortured, I couldn’t go on for much longer. I agreed with what they said about my mother and they began to tell me more of the story. After hours of being disoriented, continuously questioned, and tortured I realized that I was sitting on a chair strapped in by my hands, ankles, and stomach. These men continued to speak to me but I was trying to think of a way to get out of this mess.

They then began to tell me what my mom had “done.” In their opinion, my mother had killed hundreds of people and was on the pursuit for more victims. This concept was foreign to me but when you are being physically hurt in return for compliance, one is willing to agree with about, well, everything. Although I was complying, as a good hostage would do, I was utterly confused. At first I was told my mother was an FBI agent and now she is a murderer. I was perplexed until they began to explain. Supposedly my mother is an FBI agent whose agenda is slightly different then those of her team members. Due to her inclination to psychopathic tendencies, she is a serial killer who murders those who repeatedly hurt or harm others. This is when things began to make a little bit more sense.

At that very moment, before I could ask who these people were and why they abducted me, my mother broke in through a window, whose existence was extraneous to me, and she began to shoot at my abductors. This is when I realized they had not been completely lying. Her aim was on target and her stealth, agility, and grace under pressure were sure signs of her qualification to be an FBI agent. The reverence I felt for my mom at this moment was greater then that of any respect I have ever felt, until she was shot. She began to scream at me to run but I was so unsure of everything that was happening to me that I did not move. I felt as if the world was moving in fast-forward around me while I stayed frozen. “Run, run honey run…” the last words I ever heard from my mother, were the one thing that kept me alive that day.
In the middle of the gunfire I began to run. I began to run faster and harder then I ever had before, all in the hopes of discovering the truth.