Gone

Tuesday, January 12th, 1998

Summer. Night. 11.52pm.

The first thing I noticed about her as she rounded the corner were her eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness of the night, the most beautiful eyes I have ever before seen. Bright and wide, they looked almost like real emeralds, gleaming in the dim light emitting from the old, rusted lamp post (which had been littered with posters and warnings of danger over the years). Her eyes were striking, captivating more so. Even as she bounded towards me, her eyes were the only thing I could focus on.

A car, or what I thought was a car, turned around the corner, fluorescent white headlights lighting her up like an angel. And an angel she was.

Upon first glance, I could tell she was beautiful. Her blonde hair billowed in the light breeze, her high cheekbones were covered with freckles, and her eyes. Her eyes were mesmerising.

It was only when she was merely feet away did I see the rest of her. She, in no way, was perfect. Her sullen cheeks were pale and waxen. They had tears streaming down them, making her face damp and shiny. Her nose was red from the cold - it is January after all. Her 'blonde' hair was dry, knotted and unkempt. It fell about her shoulders with no life left in it.

Her arms were swaying by her waist as she ran. Upon close inspection, I noticed the red rings around her wrists, and the hand-shaped bruises on her forearm. Her ivory gown was torn and tattered; her blemished skin visible through the rags.

And then I noticed her eyes.

They were no longer the bright, joyful shade of green I had seen before, but dull and puffy. The purple bags hanging from them and the fear clear in them made me feel uneasy under her gaze.

She ran to me, grabbed onto my winter coat. I clasped onto her as she stumbled, her calloused hands cold as ice to my touch. She hung to me for dear life.

"Please... help me..."

Her hoarse voice was but a whisper, barely audible over the sudden noise of the vehicle behind us. Her breathing was fast and uneasy: she was panicking. She fell against me as the van stopped, her nails dug into the corduroy of my jacket.

I remember there was a ring around her right index finger. It was gold, undoubtedly an expensive item, and had a small diamond in the centre. A diamond the same shape as the tears that cascaded from her eyes.

A door opened. Two masked men leapt out.

I honestly don't remember much of what they said or did, I was too focused on the young woman who clung to me. All I really remember was her.

The fright in her bloodshot eyes was undeniably clear. She tried to run again after she realised I would be of no help, but her ring snagged on my jacket. She stumbled backwards just as the men reached her. They snatched her from my warm embrace and into the back of the van, disappearing from my sight altogether.

She was gone.

Her shrill scream rattled through my skull, an unforgettable sound that has haunted my dreams since she vanished from my side over a week ago.

I never knew how much just one moment can affect someone. In the mere twenty seconds I saw her, my life changed completely.