SURVIVOR

02

She opened the door slowly, trying to peek outside, but found the same - total darkness. Before stepping out, she waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness, but there wasn't much to see—just a small recreational area. Fortunately, there was no human activity, but there was also no way out. So, there was no alternative; she would have to exit through the front entrance. She didn't even consider going back inside the house and leaving through the front door, as she might end up encountering one of the kidnappers returning.

She crouched down and began skirting the house, her hand trailling along the exterior wall. Moving in this manner, amidst total darkness, she would hardly be seen, especially given her lack of height. It was worth spitting out all those growth pills her mother had insisted she take as a child (Ha, how funny).

As she approached the entrance, she straightened up slightly, yet remained hunched over. She glanced repeatedly to both sides of the street and, finding no signs of human presence, darted across to the other side where she had spotted a parked car. Crouching down beside the passenger side of the car, she ensured that the vehicle shielded her from anyone inside the house she had just escaped from.

She glanced around briefly to see if anything looked familiar, but the limited visibility made recognition impossible. What had been haunting her since she awakened moments ago was this total darkness. It seemed like there had been a severe power outage in the area, and she presumed it must be the dead of night, as she didn't see any light, not even a faint glow from inside the houses that could have come from a cellphone, tablet, or laptop.

Anyway, that didn't matter much now; it was even advantageous because it kept her more hidden in the shadows. She had decided not to knock on any doors, at least not so close to the house. She didn't know where the kidnappers could be or who the people living nearby were. No, she would continue walking away from there until she felt more comfortable.

Seeing that there were more cars parked along the street, she continued to walk hunched over, using them as visual barriers. She also began to silently pray, hoping that the area wasn't a high-crime zone. In her current state, she would be an easy target for any gang.

More accustomed to the darkness, she managed to discern the surroundings a bit better and realized that the location was slightly different from what she had imagined while peering through the bedroom window. She had thought she was in a typical middle-class neighborhood, but now it resembled more of a small town. She wouldn't be surprised if at anytime she stumbled upon a large square near the town hall.

The truth was, despite paying attention to her surroundings helped to distract her from thoughts of panic and fear, the more she examined the scenery around, the less sense it seemed to make. Some houses showed signs of life, with curtains drawn and cars parked, but others appeared to have been ransacked, with broken windows and doors ajar.

It was indeed a peculiar town, and even more peculiar was her presence there. She couldn't quite determine if the theory of being kidnapped still held water or if there was another explanation, one that she couldn't discern whether it would be better or worse. Emma started questioning if she had been admitted to one of those upscale rehabilitation clinics. For months, her life had been consumed by feelings of guilt over what had happened to her grandmother, and her role in it. She knew she hadn't been the same person since then, but did it really have to come to this?

Despite living a comfortable life, having a job, family, boyfriend, and supportive friends, she never summoned the courage to disclose the extent to which her guilt consumed her, leading her to seek solace in alcohol. With a reserved personality, she tried to keep her feelings bottled up, but one day a sudden wave of sadness overwhelmed her, nearly paralyzing her. That's when she took her first drink. After weeks, it was the first time she felt close to her normal self, free from the distressing and repetitive feelings that had been increasingly dominating her mind. The problem was that even when she was sober, these feelings kept invading her thoughts, prompting her to turn to alcohol as her sole support.