“Hello?” I whispered, “My friend was just abducted and I’m scared! We were camping in a Greenbelt behind my house and a guy grabbed her!” she continued to question me about Lamai, the guy, if there were any adults, etc. I was so numb that I answered them, but I didn’t pay any attention to what I said. After the call, I ran around the area for five minutes, leaving no stone unturned. Furious that I had let this happen, I punched the nearest tree. Bark splintered and fell to the ground. My hand was throbbing, but I didn’t care. I punched again. More bark fell. I heard a groan.
With my hope renewed, I ran towards the sound. Moving aside fern leaves, I saw Lamai laying in the fetal position. Her shirt had dirt smears on it and her jeans had been ripped off.
“Lamai,” I said, falling to my knees beside her, “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. Please be alright,” I silently sent a prayer to god, or the gods, depending on how people looked at it. I grabbed her pants and lifted her into my arms, carrying her back to the campsite.
Once we were back, I saw paramedics lifting a stretcher into one of the ambulances. The police and their dogs were everywhere. One noticed me and Lamai and came over.
“Are you the girl who called 9-1-1?” he asked.
I nodded and held out Lamai, “This is my friend, the one who was abducted,” he looked at the ambulances and signaled for paramedics. Two more men came and took Lamai from my arms.
“Would you mind coming down to the station so we can sort everything out?” he asked.
I nodded and looked around, “Where’s Sheelin?” I asked.
He looked at me and said, “I think you’d better come down to the station now,” I nodded and numbly got in the car. My dad sat in there with a stony look on his face. The car ride down to the station was silent. When we arrived, arms were all around me. The scent of my mother engulfed me. I also became aware of Lamai’s mom and Sheelin’s mom hugging me. I felt myself being pulled into a chair. The officer had moved me to his desk and was asking the adults to wait somewhere else. He returned and held up three pictures of men.
“Do you recognize any of these men?” he asked.
I frowned and looked at the photos, “The first guy was the one who took my friend,”
“Very good,” he said, “and the other two?” I shook my head. He made some notes and walked away. I looked around and saw a tattooed man being escorted to a cell. Rage flared up and I leapt out of my seat. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I ran at him.
“You!” I shrieked, “You did this to my friends,” I ran and embedded the scissors in his skin and repeatedly stabbed him. Police officers pushed me off him, but I could tell by the amount of blood that he was in danger of dying.
With my hope renewed, I ran towards the sound. Moving aside fern leaves, I saw Lamai laying in the fetal position. Her shirt had dirt smears on it and her jeans had been ripped off.
“Lamai,” I said, falling to my knees beside her, “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. Please be alright,” I silently sent a prayer to god, or the gods, depending on how people looked at it. I grabbed her pants and lifted her into my arms, carrying her back to the campsite.
Once we were back, I saw paramedics lifting a stretcher into one of the ambulances. The police and their dogs were everywhere. One noticed me and Lamai and came over.
“Are you the girl who called 9-1-1?” he asked.
I nodded and held out Lamai, “This is my friend, the one who was abducted,” he looked at the ambulances and signaled for paramedics. Two more men came and took Lamai from my arms.
“Would you mind coming down to the station so we can sort everything out?” he asked.
I nodded and looked around, “Where’s Sheelin?” I asked.
He looked at me and said, “I think you’d better come down to the station now,” I nodded and numbly got in the car. My dad sat in there with a stony look on his face. The car ride down to the station was silent. When we arrived, arms were all around me. The scent of my mother engulfed me. I also became aware of Lamai’s mom and Sheelin’s mom hugging me. I felt myself being pulled into a chair. The officer had moved me to his desk and was asking the adults to wait somewhere else. He returned and held up three pictures of men.
“Do you recognize any of these men?” he asked.
I frowned and looked at the photos, “The first guy was the one who took my friend,”
“Very good,” he said, “and the other two?” I shook my head. He made some notes and walked away. I looked around and saw a tattooed man being escorted to a cell. Rage flared up and I leapt out of my seat. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I ran at him.
“You!” I shrieked, “You did this to my friends,” I ran and embedded the scissors in his skin and repeatedly stabbed him. Police officers pushed me off him, but I could tell by the amount of blood that he was in danger of dying.
