Blog #2
Megan felt like it took over an hour for them to finally leave. She had been sitting on her sofa, the only piece of furniture in her tiny, dingy apartment, when she heard the knocks on the door. Megan jumped up from the sofa, spilling the microwave meal that had been sitting in her lap all over the floor.
"Is anybody home? It's the police. We have some questions for you." shouted the voice behind the door.
A million thoughts raced through Megan's head at once.
"They found me. How did they know I was here? Did somebody tell? Are they going to take me away? If I jump out of the window, will I be able run?" she thought, as fear spread throughout her body.
She crept over to the window, making sure the floorboards didn't creak beneath her. She looked out over the windowsill. She knew she wouldn't be able to make a safe landing from five flights up. Her hands began to tremble, as she tried to think of a way out. Standing there for what felt like hours, she realized that the knocking on the door had stopped. Slowing easing her way towards the door, she looked through the peephole only to see that no one was there.
"Did I just imagine that?" she asked herself.
Ever since she had escaped, she had been paranoid. A never-ending sense of uneasiness followed her everywhere she went. But how could it not? The things she went through would have left any person scarred. Being strapped to a bed and endlessly poked and prodded with needles, being asked the same questions over and over again and being beaten when you told the truth but they didn't want to believe it. And all for what? Because she was different? Because she had a gift?
When she was younger, her mother had told her that she could never let anyone know about her gift. It's too bad she didn't listen.
"Is anybody home? It's the police. We have some questions for you." shouted the voice behind the door.
A million thoughts raced through Megan's head at once.
"They found me. How did they know I was here? Did somebody tell? Are they going to take me away? If I jump out of the window, will I be able run?" she thought, as fear spread throughout her body.
She crept over to the window, making sure the floorboards didn't creak beneath her. She looked out over the windowsill. She knew she wouldn't be able to make a safe landing from five flights up. Her hands began to tremble, as she tried to think of a way out. Standing there for what felt like hours, she realized that the knocking on the door had stopped. Slowing easing her way towards the door, she looked through the peephole only to see that no one was there.
"Did I just imagine that?" she asked herself.
Ever since she had escaped, she had been paranoid. A never-ending sense of uneasiness followed her everywhere she went. But how could it not? The things she went through would have left any person scarred. Being strapped to a bed and endlessly poked and prodded with needles, being asked the same questions over and over again and being beaten when you told the truth but they didn't want to believe it. And all for what? Because she was different? Because she had a gift?
When she was younger, her mother had told her that she could never let anyone know about her gift. It's too bad she didn't listen.
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