Looking around,
I see the boys and girls
Looking at me with angry expressions.
They yell at me;
Words I cannot hear.
They push me to the floor
And yell at me some more.
I finally break down
And cry out all my tears I had been holding in.
I was strong,
But not this strong.
Why they hate me now
Is a mystery to me.
Some of them had been my friends for years.
Some of them I didn’t even know.
I run out of the room,
And down the hall,
And out of the school;
Angry words following me the whole way.
Outside the words still found me:
Classes meeting outside.
Walking as fast as I can,
I leave the parking lot,
Only to be stopped by a white van.
It’s wheels squeak,
And the door opens.
It seems as if millions of hands
Grab me from all sides.
I’m pulled into the van,
And we take off.
After being raped and beaten,
I realize I may never see my family again.
I may never see the friends I used to have.
Two months later,
My kidnappers send me to camp.
But it’s a special kind of camp
For special people.
Only certain people are allowed in,
And I guess I’m one of those people.
Three years later,
At the end of my supposed-to-be senior year,
I’m still at camp.
But I make my decision to go home
To tell my family that I’m alright.
That I’m okay.
That I’m surviving.
I finally find my way home
With my guitar and a dufflebag full of clothes
In the back of my car.
I ring the doorbell,
And a woman with brownish-grayish hair
Answers the door.
After a second,
I realize it’s my mom.
I smile and introduce myself
And she starts crying and hugs me tight,
Never wanting to let go.
She calls my brother and my dad,
And they come and hug me as well,
Tears falling down their faces.
I had changed,
And so had my appearance.
My original brown hair
Had been changed many times,
But it was an inky black
With purple highlights
And one sea green highlight at the moment.
I had traded in my not as popular clothes,
For almost completely black clothes
With rips in the jeans
And skulls and crossbones on the shirts.
Switching out my one pair of converse and my old tennis shoes
For many different kinds of converse,
I looked about as cool as a person could get.
My parents make a big deal about my coming home
And my appearance
And decide to throw a party.
My ex-friends came,
Along with teachers I once knew.
Family comes to know it’s true.
Everyone that’s there comes and embraces me,
Or shakes my hand,
Making sure I’m real.
They all ask about what had happened
And about where I had gotten all the scars.
At one point during the party,
I get everyone to quiet down
And I tell them my story.
I tell them how the kidnappers raped me,
And how they beat me senseless.
I told them about how for a whole two months,
I was numb and unable to move,
But then I was taken to a special camp.
I didn’t tell them what the camp was called,
But I told them about the sword fighting
And the special skills we could learn.
They interrupt me then,
Wanting to know more about the camp,
But I tell them to quiet down
And ask questions at the end.
I talk about how I had met a boy like me,
Except that he had a different kind of personality.
I told them how the boy and I had bonded,
As if we were made for each other.
Talking about the band we formed
With two other people,
Including my half-brother,
Made me miss camp.
That’s when I riot broke out.
Everyone at the party wanted to know
Just how I had a half-brother.
I told them to quiet down,
And that I would explain it later.
I told them how the band I was in became famous,
And how we had such fun times.
I talked about some of the adventures we went on,
Like searching for underwater creatures with my half-brother.
I also talked about how the boy and I had started dating.
That’s when a chorus of “awwwws” broke out.
I shushed them and continued on with my story.
I talked about how close the boy and I had gotten,
And how we immediately knew what the other was feeling.
We knew just what the other liked,
And what the other didn’t like.
And then I talked about him proposing,
And me saying yes.
And yet again,
Another riot broke out.
Some of the people were yelling,
Saying that I shouldn’t have said yes
Without the boy talking to my parents.
Some people were trying to shush everyone.
And some people wanted to know what happened
And why I was here instead of with the boy.
I finally got them all to quiet down
And continued on with my story.
I then talked about the wedding I had had
Just two weeks ago.
I talked about how it was at camp,
And how everyone in the camp attended.
I told them about the reception
And the people that came up to us
Congratulating us and telling us we were a perfect couple.
They boy and I thanked them
And went on to visit with other people.
Finishing my story,
I looked around the room,
I noticed a lot of people
With tears in their eyes.
I smiled at them and asked if there were any questions.
Many people started asking at once,
But one person raised their hand.
I recognized the person as one of my ex-best friends.
I quieted everyone down
And called on her.
She asked me why I didn’t come back sooner.
I frowned and looked at the floor.
In a soft voice,
I told her truthfully about how I hadn’t actually thought about it before.
I had been perfectly happy at camp and after I had gotten married,
I decided it was time to go home to at least say ‘hi’.
I looked around the room again,
And saw all the sad faces staring at me.
Another person raised their hand,
And I recognized him as the boy I had a crush on in 8th grade.
He asked if I was truly happy being away from all of them.
I looked him straight in the eye,
And said that I was happy,
But I missed everyone.
I missed everyone,
But knew I couldn’t bring them to camp with me.
I also said how I would like to stay
And find a house to live in with my husband,
But I knew I was needed at camp.
I begged them all to understand that.
I looked at their faces
And knew they understood.
I looked around the room again,
And it seemed no one had any more questions.
So I walked away towards a corner in the back of the room.
People asked questions they didn’t feel like asking in front of everyone.
I answered as truthfully as I could,
Knowing that some of the answers I couldn’t completely tell.
The doorbell rang,
And I wondered who else was coming.
My mom answered the door
To reveal a boy dressed in all black.
He wanted to know if I was here,
And my mom pointed towards me.
He looked at me and smiled.
I smiled back.
He started walking towards me,
And I started walking towards him.
No one realized who it was
Until the two of us met in the middle of the room.
He gathered me in a hug,
And kissed me on the lips.
Everyone then figured out that it was my husband,
But no one knew why he was here,
Since I had said he should be at camp still.
But I knew how he had gotten there.
He didn’t drive.
He didn’t take a plane.
He didn’t walk.
He simply “teleported”.
That is,
If you can call if teleporting.
After we broke the kiss,
Everyone cheered,
Happy to know I had found someone that would take care of me.
People came up and introduced themselves,
Asking questions to know what my husband was like.
When people came up,
Looking nervous,
I told them that he may look scary,
But he really is a true sweetheart.
It gave them more courage,
And they flat out asked their question.
He answered them as truthfully as he could.
If only everyone knew what we were really like,
And what we usually did on a daily basis.
Then they’d really be scared of us.
But we wouldn’t care.
And then it was time for us to leave.
We both got into my car and drove off,
And a split second later,
We were back at camp.
It seemed that coming back
From Texas to New Jersey
Didn’t take that long.
But that’s why I love him.
He entertains me and makes me laugh.
He knows what I like and what I don’t like.
He knows how to treat me and how to handle me.
He knows how to love me.
That’s why I love him.
Everyone came rushing at our car,
Happy to have me back.
Happy to have both of us,
Even if he was only gone for about an hour.
They welcomed us back as if we were celebrities.
And we walked down to the beach,
And sat down,
Watching the sunset
On this final day of peace.
We knew that tomorrow morning
Would be the start of a war.