Lost and Found

Sandra

My reality doesn't seem real. It's been 5 years, 2 weeks, and 3 days since my entire world collapsed. It took me about a year to fully accept that it wasn't just my world that collapsed but the world; the entire globe, normal one second, total upheaval the next. Or at least that's how it felt.

Each morning when I wake up, I instinctively rub the heart-shaped locket that I wear around my neck. This locket is the only thing keeping me grounded, reminding me that this isn't just some bad dream and that I have to fight to survive. I have to fight to find the girl inside the locket.

"Sandra, get up. Daylight's wasting." Bill, my latest captor, grunts. His demand reinforces my unspoken resolve to find her. I roll to my side, opening the locket to catch a glimpse of Melany and gain the strength I need to get through another day.

I take care of my human needs, grab a piece of jerky for breakfast, and head outside to start picking dandelions. Bill isn't a harsh man, he's more of an entrepreneur who knows the value of herbal remedies and in the free labor that I provide. I worked for 3 others before Bill, and each one got me one step closer to my daughter. New workers were captured and traded each day; she was one of them. I watched them take her away almost 3 years ago. Since then, I've willingly served whomever I must, determined to find her. I've met others who have seen her pass through but I'm always a step behind.

Melany

Did you ever watch post-apocalyptic movies? You know the ones where it's kill or be killed? Well, that's kind of what it's like. I'm being sold and traded like a baseball card, always going to the highest bidder. A couple of the other girls and myself had an idea early on to keep our hair short and a fresh layer of dirt always coats our skin. It's worked to keep some of the ill-willed men away, but I've had to work hard to keep it that way. The brothels are alive and well and I want to stay as far away from them as possible. I'm almost 16 though and am afraid I won't go unnoticed for much longer.

Today is my favorite day: bath day. There are only 3 women working on the farm I'm at now. We get to wash in the pond once a week if the weather is good. We swim and laugh and, the best part, I get to be clean for a while before rubbing dirt all over again to keep away from wayward eyes.

As I strip off my stiff clothes, I feel the chain around my neck and follow it down to the locket resting next to my heart as if it is drawn there. I sigh as I open it and think back to when I was 8 and got matching lockets for me and my mom on Mother's Day. We would update the pictures every Mother's Day after that, and Dad would always complain because he didn't have one. One year we finally got a heart-shaped picture frame for Dad so he could put pictures of both mom and me in it.

The memory makes me smile and I allow myself a few more moments of peaceful reminiscing before the ache of losing them sets in. I don't know what happened to mom, but I know Dad is gone. He's gone because I killed him.

Sandra

BANG!

My heart stops when I hear a gunshot in the distance. I react on impulse and drop to the ground as I push aside the memories threatening to surface. I keep my ears and eyes open as I scan the horizon for danger. I startle when a deer comes staggering my way before it collapses and breaths its last. Another small part of me dies to see the beautiful animal lay blood-stained on the ground, and even worse is the excitement I feel at the idea of fresh meat on the table tonight.

"You better get your herbs inside so you can help me with this thing," Bill says as he approaches. Nothing about Bill is smooth, his leathered skin is scarred, and his voice is gravelly. He is a lumbering, heavy-footed oaf always stubbing his toe in the sparsely furnished house, only agile when he hunts. Still, I am slow to leave his servitude as he has treated me more like a human and coworker than as a servant. He taught me how to transform the weeds outside into medicines that can ease pains, calm terrors, and even save lives. It will be difficult to escape from this place that has started to feel like home.

If my husband could see me now, living in another man's house, he'd either kill me or laugh at me as I try not to gag while helping field dress a deer. With blood on my hands and my late husband, Tom, on my mind, I can no longer keep the tears under control, and they begin to pour down my face onto the coarse coated animal on the ground.

"Need a minute?" Bill points with his knife for me to go sit on a log while he keeps working. I look at the knife and contemplate falling into it to end my agony, to rid myself of my guilt. I could end it all now, I could escape the pain of knowing that it's all my fault. My daughter was taken because of me. I gave her to them.

Melany

It's market day. We load up the fattened animals and whatever plants survived the last hailstorm and head towards the clearing. I've worked for people in the city before and many of the large stores are still operational but instead of credit cards or cash, people barter. Food, jewelry, clothes, whatever held value. Cigarettes and alcohol were the most valued currency for many of the traveling traders and if you could get your hands on either of those, you could pretty much buy whatever you wanted.

Out here it's not much different, only we meet in a clearing to do business instead of dimly lit buildings. Though the last people I worked for were nicer, I prefer the wide-open spaces and the absence of dark corners and dangerous alleyways. It's crazy how quickly life can change. 5 years ago, I was just a kid living in a quiet neighborhood with a comfortable life. Now I am living a life of servitude and feel twice my age. I deserve it though after what I did to Dad.

Guilt weighs me down every moment of the day. I hope I am making Dad proud by standing strong and avoiding the lives that many girls my age have chosen- shacking up with grown men and women, evil people, for the promise of a better life. Few get the life they are promised. Most have a few weeks of easy living before being tossed back on the street, often pregnant with nowhere to turn. I don't blame them for trying. This life isn't for the faint of heart and I may have taken that option too if I didn't have Dad's voice always in my head saying, "Do the right thing." Funny thing was, he'd never tell me what the right thing was, just that I should do it.

BANG!

I hear a shot in the distance, and I drop to the ground with the rest of the workers. We stay flat on the ground for about 10 minutes before standing slowly. There was only one shot, so we assume it was either a hunter or the other guy didn’t make it.

Sandra

"I'm going to take half of this deer to the market at the clearing today. Go grab your basket with whatever herbs and tinctures we have to sell, and we'll get moving." Bill wiped the blood off his knife as he spoke to me, still crying on the log.

"Will do." I sniffle as I clean my face off and go to fill my basket. Going to the clearing is one of my best chances to find Melany if she is in the area. My heart lightens as I am filled with a new hope of finding my sweet daughter.

I fill my basket as quickly as I can, almost breaking a few jars in my haste. "Ready!" I call out after a few moments time.

"Hmmph." Bill eyes me as I bound down the steps and head towards the well-beaten path. "I sincerely hope you find what you're looking for." He mumbles under his breath. If he could afford it, I half expect Bill would pay me for all my work. Yes, I could stay and work for Bill if I must. But not if it kept me from finding Melany.

On the way to the clearing, I make up my mind that if Melany isn't there I'm moving on. I have to. I need to find my daughter and make up for my mistake. I'm not as naive as I was 3 years ago when I lost her. Back then I still trusted people.

I shudder as another memory takes over: It was dusk and Tom, Melany, and I had been at a market in a small town back east. We had taken the pictures out of Tom's locket-shaped picture frame and used it to purchase some food. Melany was so upset that we had to use the gift she'd given Tom, but he insisted we use it instead of one of our necklaces. Melany was just 12 at the time and acted rashly. She went back to the merchant and tried to steal the frame back.

I'll never forget the horror on Melany's face as the man caught her by the wrist and raised his arm to hit her. Tom was quicker than I was and caught the man's arm before he could strike. Melany got free and ran to me but not before the man created a scene. A man and woman beside me comforted me and told me they'd care for Melany so I could help Tom.

"You won't make a fool of me!" I heard the man bellow at Tom right before he shot him. Tears run down my cheeks at the memory. My sweet Thomas, the only man I'd ever loved, fell, blood-stained to the ground. Before I could react, I heard the life-altering scream behind me. The woman I'd left Melany with was kicking a horse into a gallop with my screaming daughter mounted in front of her.

I ran after them but was no match for a horse. I knew where to look though and for 3 years I've kept looking. I've gotten information from others along the way and just missed her by a matter of days on a few occasions. She's alive and she's not gone to the brothels. I cannot give up now, she's out there and I plan to find her.

Melany

The clearing comes into view, and I immediately begin searching faces. I don't know if my mom is alive, but I can't keep myself from looking, from hoping. As I scan the small crowds of people a face catches my eye, I stop breathing. This can't be. I've allowed myself to hope, but this is too good to be true.

I finally gather the strength to take a step forward as our eyes meet.

"Dad?"