Chapter 6

My head hurt as my hand came to rest on it, my eyes opening slowly as the blurriness cleared. Looking around hearing birds chirping from outside as the sunlight shone through the window, a window that looked completely unfamiliar to me. In fact the whole room looked unfamiliar.

I blinked hard, disoriented. My head throbbed as I pushed myself up from the unfamiliar bed. Confusion swirled through me – why was I in this strange bedroom? The last thing I could recall was being at Alicia’s party ... and then spotting that woman in the photograph. Mary Jameson, Alicia’s mom. But how did I end up here?

As I rose from the bed, muffled voices drifted through the door. Panic surged when I glanced at my clothes—the same ones Emily had given me days earlier. The shift! My pulse raced as I cracked open the door, desperate to escape unnoticed.

“Is Naomi up yet?” A woman’s voice called out, sharp and impatient. “I don’t know,” Alicia snapped back, irritation lacing her tone. The woman persisted, “Well tell her to get her butt out of bed.” With an audible huff, Alicia stomped toward my door. I scrambled backward as footsteps approached, closing the door just as knocking echoed through the room. “Naomi! Get up,” Alicia demanded before pushing the door open wide enough for our eyes to lock in a tense standoff.

“Mom’s calling!” Alicia announced, then turned away. I drew a steadying breath before stepping into the hallway and descending the stairs toward the kitchen. Mary waited there, the woman who had claimed me as her daughter at school. Her gaze swept over my unchanged clothes. “I told you to change!” she chided sharply. At the table, Alicia rolled her eyes and muttered between bites of breakfast, “She thinks she’s Lara Croft.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Sit down and eat your breakfast,” she snapped, her tone dripping with impatience. I stood motionless, dread coiling in my stomach as I faced the one place I loathed most. Mary added with a sneer, “You either eat or you don’t—I couldn’t give a shit.” Slowly, I pulled out a chair and sank into it. Though hunger gnawed at me, my mind reeled too much to focus on the food before me; I simply stared blankly at my untouched plate.

“I’m heading out to work soon,” Mary stated coldly, “and don’t even think about leaving this house. You’re grounded for that stunt you pulled at school and climbing over the fence.” Alicia immediately jumped in with a smirk, adding, “Serves you right after fooling around with Eric—Joanna’s really upset, Naomi!” I remained silent, my throat tightening as I struggled to find words to defend myself.

I absently rubbed my arm, wincing as pain shot through the tender skin. A deep purple bruise had formed, stark against my dark flesh. Mary’s sharp eyes caught the movement. “Your father can’t control his temper sometimes—it was an accident,” she remarked dismissively before rising from the table. Her casual excuse sent a chill through me; I knew without doubt that the man who called himself my father had caused this injury. “Be sure to clear this table,” Mary ordered coolly, glancing between me and Alicia before turning away.

As Mary exited, Alicia and I remained seated at the kitchen table. She continued eating her breakfast before announcing, “I’m going to be heading out—make sure you clean this up.” Frustration flaring within me, I retorted sharply, “She told you as well.” Alicia merely shrugged. “You’re the one who’s in it deep anyway,” she added with a nonchalant air, “don’t screw it up.”

“How long have I been living here, Alicia?” My voice came out strained as I tried to make sense of the haze clouding my mind. She paused mid-bite, furrowing her brow. “What do you mean?” she asked, clearly confused. I repeated the question, each word feeling heavy on my tongue. “A year ago,” she finally answered, her tone laced with unease as she studied my troubled expression. The response only deepened my bewilderment—I couldn’t understand why I’d endured this situation for so long. Alicia’s gaze sharpened suddenly. “What’s wrong with you—are you losing your memory or something?”

I rose from my chair and headed for the door, determined to escape. Alicia called after me, “Hey! You can’t leave!” She took a step in my direction as I halted near the threshold. “Are you going to stop me?” I challenged, turning to face her. Alicia exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “Listen Naomi,” she began in a measured tone, “I know it hasn’t been easy—I mean, you’re not easy to get along with.” Her words stung, but before I could retort, I gestured toward the dark bruise marring my arm. “And this?” I demanded quietly, my voice trembling with unspoken questions.

I caught the flicker of comprehension in her gaze. “Yeah, Dad’s a jerk!” she blurted, adding quickly, “But he’s not all bad.” I didn’t bother responding as I tugged on my sneakers. “They’ll track you down again—the police will drag you right back,” she continued, her voice edged with urgency. “In a couple years you’ll turn eighteen and can finally do whatever you want.” I shook my head firmly; there was no chance I’d remain in that house.

As I stepped onto the porch and started down the sidewalk, I heard Alicia’s hurried footsteps behind me. Halfway to the corner, she finally caught up, panting slightly. “I can’t protect you if you go,” she insisted, worry sharpening her voice. I paused just long enough to meet her anxious gaze. “I’ll manage fine on my own,” I assured her with more confidence than I felt. And though I hated admitting it even to myself, I added quietly, “If they drag me back ... I swear, I will kill someone.” With that, I turned and kept walking away.

“They’re going to take it out on me!” she yelled back, her voice cracking. I turned sharply to face her, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Her shoulders sagged as if bearing an invisible weight, and I found myself retracing my steps until we stood nearly eye-to-eye. “This isn’t my reality, Alicia,” I said firmly, my voice low and determined. “I have a real mother—a real father—and I won’t let anyone force me back here. Tell your parents to stop searching for me because I’m never returning.”

I noticed the glimmer of tears forming in Alicia’s eyes, prompting me to ask, “What’s wrong?” But before she could answer, a man’s furious shout cut through the air: “Hey!!! Where do you think you’re going?” His voice seemed to come from somewhere close. Alicia’s head jerked back toward the sound, and in a panicked whisper she hissed, “Shit! Dad’s home—you have to go back inside.” My pulse quickened as I spotted him approaching us. Without hesitation, I darted in the opposite direction, his angry shouts fading into the distance behind me.

I had no idea where I was, and without my phone—I knew they’d taken it—I hurried toward what I hoped was town. More people filled the streets around me, but then a car screeched to a halt right beside me. “Naomi! Get in!” my so-called father ordered sharply. A cold wave of panic washed over me as I stumbled backward; he emerged from the car, his voice rising harshly. “I said get in!” Flustered, I bumped into several passersby while trying to edge away.

I screamed, “I don’t know this man—he’s trying to kidnap me!” as I frantically waved my arms. Several pedestrians halted mid-stride, their expressions shifting from indifference to alarm. One woman in particular locked eyes with me; I could see her register the terror etched across my face before she whirled toward him, commanding, “Stay right there—I’m calling the police!” With her phone pressed to her ear, the man froze, realization dawning on his features. Seizing that momentary hesitation, I spun and sprinted away as fast as my legs would carry me.

Running past cars as they blared their horns, I had to find Helen’s house again. I dodged many people along the way until I ran into a couple of police officers—two large men. “Woah! What are you running from? Did you steal something?” one said accusingly.

“A man tried to take me in his car,” I blurted out desperately, watching their expressions sharpen with sudden attention. As the officers questioned me about where I lived, I managed to stammer out directions to Helen’s place. Before I could finish, the familiar car lurched to a stop nearby.

My heart raced as he stepped out onto the curb. “Thank God you officers found her,” he declared with false relief. I pointed at him shakily, shouting, “That’s him!” He feigned innocence as one officer held up a hand to restrain him. “Officer, her name is Naomi—I’m her foster father,” he insisted smoothly, producing an ID card bearing my picture.

After presenting his own ID, the officer glanced at it briefly before turning his stern gaze back to me. “Naomi!” he called sharply, directing his question squarely at me. “This man claims to be your foster father—is that true?” I could feel my pulse quicken as I shook my head firmly, my voice trembling with conviction. “No, he’s not my father,” I insisted. Meanwhile, my fake father remained composed, interjecting calmly, “She’s been running away constantly, always accusing me of trying to abduct her.”

The officer spoke firmly, “Listen Naomi, I know it must be hard living with your foster parents but running away is not the answer.” His words left me bewildered; I knew this was slipping away from me. I tried to bolt, but one of the officers swiftly seized my arm to stop me.

I struggled violently to break free as the other officer restrained me. “Stop resisting,” he commanded. Seeing the arrogant smirk on my fake father’s face filled me with rage. In a flash of defiance, I slammed my heel down onto the cop’s foot. He cried out in pain, loosening his grip just enough for me to wrench myself away. As my foster father lunged toward me, I kicked him squarely between his legs with all my strength. A sharp gasp escaped him as he crumpled forward, clutching himself protectively.

I sprinted off as fast as my legs would carry me, knowing I had no one to rely on. My feet pounded the pavement in a frantic rhythm, each stride fueled by desperation. The streets began to look more familiar now, guiding me toward Helen’s house as I desperately tried to retrace my steps.

A police cruiser rolled by as I crouched behind a parked car. Their radio crackled, “She’s headed south on Madison Avenue,” they announced, confirming they were searching for me.

I carried on now slowing down a little due to exhaustion, breathing heavily I stopped to take a breather. When the another cop car stopped close by, “There she is” he said as my eyes widened.