I was a child abductor

I was a child abductor. I can’t tell you why. I can’t tell you how. But I think we’re all better off that way. The important part here is that I hurt a lot of people. Seriously hurt them. I am not proud to say that I still remember the first girl I ever took, because it gives me the same pleasure to think of her as it was to look at her. The only thing that I can do to take away some of the pain that I caused is to tell everyone what happened, and how it ended. She was a pretty girl, with long black hair and big green eyes. She was crying when I found her. Lost in the forest about a mile from my house. I figured that she was a dissenter that had run off from the main group to cry in peace. I knew the forest was safe; I lived there after all. She didn’t seem scared of me, and she was young enough not to feel threatened when I offered to walk with her back to her group. We talked for a while. About the flowers, and the weather. I told her that she was very lucky, because she had gotten to the forest in the spring, when the trees were blooming. “Were you here in the winter, when the snow fell?” I asked her. She told me that she wasn’t. Her group had left their city in the spring, and she had never been to this part of the country before. “Well then,” I said, “If you get to stay here for a while, you will have seen it in all four seasons.” “I hope so.” she said. We walked for a while longer, and I eventually told her that I was sorry, but I didn’t know where her group was. I had been living in this forest my whole life, and I didn’t see any landmarks that I recognized. “I need to get back.” she said, panic rising in her voice. “I know. But we have been walking for hours. I think we need to rest.” I pointed her to a very large tree, where some animal had made a home. I don’t know what animal, because it was much larger than a rabbit, but much smaller than a bear. She looked at me warily, but sat down in the shelter anyway. “I’m going to go look for food. I’ll be back,” I told her. I walked off to hunt, but I didn’t really go anywhere. I climbed one of the nearby trees, and sat on a branch to wait. The forest was quiet. She was right to be scared, because she didn’t know how to survive here. It’s not like she had grown up this way. None of them do. Eventually she cried herself to sleep, and I got down and walked back to her little shelter. I sat down in the opening, and reached in to gently brush her hair. It was soft. “Are you comfortable?” I asked her. “Yeah. Thanks.” She paused, then said “What’s your name?” “I don’t have one.” I said. “Then what do people call you?” She asked. “I don’t know. I don’t really talk to people.” “Then how did you live here your whole life? Did you have a family?” “I don’t know.” I said again. I paused, then added “I have lived here for as long as I remember. And I don’t remember anything before that.” “Nothing?” “No.” She was quiet, and I could tell she didn’t know what to say. Eventually, she fell back asleep, and I sat there for a while, brushing her hair. At some point while we were sitting there, I must have fallen asleep, because I remember jumping up to look at her. She was screaming. I don’t know what had happened, but she was thrashing around, and when she saw me she stopped. “Oh my god,” she said. “I thought you were a bear.” I was confused, until I realized that she had never seen me before. I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat back down. I brushed her hair again, like she was my puppy. “Do you want to come back to my house?” I asked her. “I don’t know.” She said. “I probably should get back.” “I can carry you if you want. It’s not that far.” “No, it’s okay,” she said. “How long do you think it’s been since we started walking?” “I don’t know.” I told her. “I don’t keep track of time very well.” “Can you guess?” She asked. “I think it’s probably been about a day.” I told her. “I probably couldn’t make it that long,” she said. “Okay. I’ll go with you.” “Good,” I told her. I swung her up over my shoulders, and carried her that way for the rest of the trip. She was talking, so I think she was okay. When we got to my house, I set her down. “No.” she said. “I changed my mind. I’m going to go back to my group.” “Please don’t do that,” I told her. “You can stay here, and I’ll take care of you.” “No.” she repeated. I didn’t want her to go, so I hit her on the head to knock her out. She fell to the ground. When she woke up, she was crying. “How did I get here?” She asked. “I carried you,” I told her. “I don’t remember.” “I hit you.” I told her. “I didn’t want you to go, and I knew you would feel better if you didn’t see it.” She didn’t say anything. She looked around the room, and I realized that she probably didn’t understand what she was seeing. “This was my mother’s room,” I said. She was confused again, so I continued. “When I was a child, my mother took care of me. That’s why I don’t remember anything from before I lived here. She told me that one day she would be too old to take care of me, and that she wouldn’t be able to survive on her own without me. She told me that the best thing to do, when she died, would be to find a child so that I would have someone to take care of me, and someone to carry on my legacy one day. I’m an adult now; I don’t need someone to take care of me, but I followed the second part anyways.” “What legacy?” She asked me. “I don’t know.” I said. “I think she meant the house. But she died before she could tell me.” She looked at me for a while, like she expected me to say something else. When I didn’t, she started to cry. “Do you want to see the house?” I asked her. “I don’t know,” she told me. “I think it would be best if I showed you. You’ll probably be living here for a while.” She didn’t say anything, but she stood up and followed me. I showed her the main house. The kitchen in the center was large, perfect for a family. She didn’t ask any questions about it. I showed her the four large bedrooms, each decorated for children. Two had girly bedding, and two had manly bedding. I pointed out which one was mine, and which one was my mother’s. I showed her the two other buildings on the property. Each one was small, with a bed and a table in them. One was my mother’s laboratory, the other was her office. I showed her the garden out front, that I kept up by myself. I pointed out that the main house had no windows or doors, except for the one that connected the main house to the office, and the other that connected the main house to the lab. She didn’t seem to think that was odd. After a while of walking, we got back to my mother’s room. She sat down on the bed. I sat down next to her. “I have been thinking,” I told her. “About what?” She asked. “Names,” I said. “I never had a name. I think it’s better that way. I don’t know why my mother called me that, but the name she chose for me means demon that drowns people. I don’t know what she saw in me, but I think she made a mistake calling me that. Do you know why?” She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Because I let her drown. The river is right over there. If I had followed her and saved her, she would still be here. I don’t know what made her go in by herself. She was an old woman, and she knew she didn’t have the strength for it. But she didn’t want to be a burden on me, so she went in alone.” I started to cry, and she put her hand on my arm. I realized that she didn’t know what I was saying. I looked at her, confused, and she looked back at me. Neither of us understood what the other was thinking. Suddenly she jerked her hand away. “You said she died?” She asked me, as if just realizing it. “Yes. She lived here with me, and one day she went into the river. She didn’t come out. But she left me very specific instructions on how to survive after she was gone.” “Oh my god,” the girl said. I realized that she felt bad for me, but

I was a child abductor

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