Runaway

Lost and foun P1

I ran. To some, it makes me a coward. But they don't know my situation. I'm 11 and I'm running from my step-father and step-brother. To those who know or guess my situation, most would say I am brave, brave because I finally did something to try and live. Deep stuff for a 11 year old... right?

All I can remember before I collapsed against the bins in a dark alley is me waking up in the cold basement I had known as 'home' for so long. The icy floors dropped below freezing temperature but no cold could match the coldness I felt toward my broken family. I closed my eyes and flashes of memories returned...

I blinked my eyes open. I moved but all too quick as my ribs ached and my head felt like an axe had been shoved into it. Something red dropped down onto the floor and I felt a warm liquid on the side of my head. I pulled up the grey oversized shirt I had lived in for so long and saw the sight of yellow, green, blue and purple bruises that engaged every part of my rib and stomach area. The sight of it was enough to make me cringe. I stood with some (an understatement) effort and limped upstairs, every movement like taking a step through hell. I prayed that my step-father and step-brother were asleep or passed out which my prayers were answered because despite the TV being on their heads were facing upward and the only movement I could see was the light breathing. I hissed as another step sent me biting back screams as pain shot through every part of my body. I didn't bother with shoes, a bag or anything of the sort. The only thing on my mind was the thing my eyes were staring at with desire like a kid to chocolate; the door. I took cautious, slow steps until my hand was able to reach the door handle. My fingers grazed the cold surface and I smiled weakly at the thought of finally being free. My breath stopped in my throat when I heard slight shuffling from the other room. I didn't check as I quietly opened the door and closed it before I sprinted with all of my will and might into the open streets of the city. As I was running my only thoughts were of why I'd ran. I was tired. I knew things weren't going to get better. They couldn't get much worse. This was the biggest risk I could take but for some reason the consequences didn't matter to me. I was free... I could finally start living!

I opened my eyes once again and found myself retreating at the smell of rubbish and realised I was sitting against a bin. Rain had started falling from the dark night sky and I sat there. I should have been unhappy at the rain, at the coldness or the thought of getting ill but I welcomed it. Never had I felt rain falling onto my skin or drenching my hair. I stood and looked to the sky and chuckled as it fell in massive numbers. I felt a sharp pain in my feet and noticed I must've stepped into glass. I decided the best thing was probably not to stay in alleys. Dodgy places.

I carefully made my way out and continued walking down the empty pathways alongside the city roads. There were little to no cars about and I had no idea where I was going. I suppose I didn't really care. I probably should have thought this through more carefully but I was only 11 and it's not like I knew anyone. My thoughts were disrupted as I walked into a wall. Or... a man who had an uncanny resemblance to a wall. I rubbed my head as a horrible pain appeared again. I gritted my teeth and my gaze lifted up the tall figure. The man was in his late 40s early 50s. He looked good for his age. His dark hair had started turning grey and he had a sharp jaw that looked hidden under a small beard. His eyes were a light grey that pierced the dark. He wore a grey — similar to his eyes— Armani suit and dark black polished shoes.

Well. I'm dead...

I lifted myself from the floor and looked up at his face. He was glaring at me with an aura of authority. Suddenly the wet floor was interesting. Oo! Was that a bug? Nope, just mud. "What are you doing out here, Bambina?" The man's deep voice asked me softly. I kept my gaze to the floor and muttered a reply.
"I don't know where I am..."

I felt a large hand take hold of my shoulder and on instinct I flinched. He looked at me with concerned eyes and bent down to my height.
"I am not going to hurt you, Tesoro..." he whispered to me. Hearing this I felt safer, which confused me. Why did I feel safe with him?!

He took a step closer to me and I froze on the spot. "What is your name?"

"Idalia." I mumbled. My eyes drifted around the dark roads, every open area seemed like a good advantage and no one could block me from running. However my feet felt heavy against the floor and when the flash of an image, a plan to run, formed, I felt my body drain of every remaining energy I had left. The pain at my ribs and head suddenly increased and I bit my lip to resist the instinctive urge to scream or cry.
When I looked back up at the man, even for half a moment, he'd simply glanced at me. His gaze was scrutinising and looked beyond me. I saw a small glimmer of grief, perhaps even relief and  doubt. Before, nothing.
"We should go to the police, sir," one of the men grumbled behind him in an uninterested tone. I hadn't even realised to look behind him, though most of his figure blocked the other two men away.

He paid no attention to the comment. Contemplating, he offered his hand to me and, after a few reluctant and uncertain moments, I decided that there wasn't much I could lose anymore. It wasn't a wise choice but if the man suggested going to a police station, perhaps that was what he decided.
"Idalia, do you know who your parents are?"
It appeared a dreadful question at first. Words didn't make their way past the back of my mouth, caught and then each sentence I tried silently didn't seem right. "Not really. I lived— live with my step-brother and step-dad."

"Your... father, he remarried?"
"Adopted..." and never let me forget. I wish I knew my parents. "I remember that I was left with a ring, too big to fit, even now. I still carry it with me."
His eyes widened and his face paled. I thought for a moment it was my own hand shivering, only to realise it was his.
"Can I see it?"
I hesitated, glancing between the other two men who seemed content with their own conversation to realise what was taking place. I shuffled my hands around my pocket trying to find the familiar cold surface. Truthfully, I had hidden it away in hopes that neither would find it.

Finally my finger slid between the ring and I pulled it out, still I had a lot of growing before it would fit but the design and the round silver itself intrigued me. I lifted it upward, the translucent moon light beamed over the royal blue gem and it glowed. A single tear dropped down from his eyes and, gently taking the ring from my hand, he twirled it and looked at the inside.
Looking back at me, he bent back down to my height and showed it to me.

I felt stupid. I never checked the inside but now it was so clear. Etched firmly on the inside, a sentence was written. The love of a parent to child.
"My wife had this made a few months after our first child was born. She had many unique items made, each for every child she birthed so that no matter what happened, she wouldn't be forgotten..." he paused, swallowing back a sob. "This was made for our only daughter who in every way resembled her mother."

His hand reached for his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet and gently took out a small photo. It was colourful, taken on a beach and in the centre was a beautiful woman. Her cheeks were dotted with red and her features were refined. Long brown locks of hair cascaded over her shoulder, loving blue eyes stared at the camera. She kind of looked... like me.