The Torture of Knowledge

     Imagine the  pitter pat of a now five year old's little feet prancing down the stairs. She is almost levitating because of how excited she is. She begins down a dark and lonely hallway filled with doors she had memorized in her five years on this horrid planet. When she almost raced down it at the first glance ,knowing that her parents were waiting for her pounce ,she instead decided to walk upon the balls of her feet and surprise her already aware parents. "Eek" the old boards warned her not to go further. "Squeak" the old tattered panels replied telling her that she will not enter the same bedroom she had walked into every other birthday. Unaware of their alerts the curly strawberry blonde headed girl continued on the prowl for her birthday song and presents.

       "They can't take her," the child heard her mother whimper to her father.

       "They know who we are and what she is," her father cried in reply " We can't stop them."

         For some reason the girl decided to proceed walking almost in a daze after what she heard coming from the people that had raised her and were now giving up hope on saving her. The girl poked her blue eyed freckled face through the door way and her mother gave out a screech of pain that is still ringing in my ears. I never knew until later that that pain was not because of the girl but because of the mother's pain she felt when she thought of losing those bright blue ocean eyes . As the parents grabbed her into their arms she breathed heavily and slowly in comparison to her parents fast and concerned breaths.

     " Run," her mother screamed as an earsplitting noise came from the front and back door in unison. The once caring arms that were one of the first to hold the girl suddenly became weak and urgent as the threw the same girl into her father's arms.

      As the father's frail legs scampered across the hardwood floor they began narrating the quick steps that the father was giving them to witness. "She will live" they screamed "Your fight will not be in vain the chosen one will live" screeched another. The same boards that once encouraged a 9 month old to walk now encouraged her father to run.

     Demon like guards flooded into the same home birthday guest usually did on this day. Their evil helmets split into the girl's soul and paralyzed her with fear that still hasn't subsided from my brain. As they tore a once inseparable family apart a small picture frame shattered off of a nearby shelf and as the glassed flew around the floor boards so did the monsters that left as maleficent as they entered the only difference was the unconscious girl laying limp in their arms.

    Imagine having to watch this event occur once. I have had to relive this horrid occurrence everyday of my life in a confined asylum they call a school. In this facility with no doors or windows only white walls wiped as clean as the children's brains walking through them. I sit thinking everyday about the memories that only I have left and weep for the kids who don't remember what their parents faces looked like on their fifth birthday when they got ripped away. I am the only one tortured with knowing I have a home and being unsure if there is anything left. I am tortured with repetitive brain washings as these demon guards possess my life with horror and pain. I am tortured with knowing . I am tortured with knowledge.