I stare at the picture in the newspaper that I held in my shaky hands. The headline to the picture was: KIDNAPPED GIRL. The picture is in black and white. The girl in the picture is posed in front of color-drained rose bushes. You can see a house too. Normally the house is painted white with red shutters and a red front door. But all you see is black and white. My eyes flutter to the girls face and I study it for a second. Her eyes are wide. Normally, a bright green but in the picture they are black holes. Empty and soulless. Her mouth is parted slightly, as if she were gasping at something. She looked frightened. Scared. Alone. This picture was taken by the kidnapper just as he crept up to snatch her away from the life she hated. She would often sit in her room crying, while scaring herself with short swipes of knifes across her skin. I see a few of the scars on her, branching up her arm like a vine. Her hair is frozen, stiff in the air. I can see a scream in her soulless eyes. I fold the paper back up and place it on the table. Scared. Like the girl… The headline repeats itself in my head. KIDNAPPED GIRL. KIDNAPPED GIRL. I snap back to reality and a tear slips down my cheek.

Because that girl was me.