Kidnapped, Revised

Between taking pills and feeling drowsy, I re-wrote this with my sister. I hope you all think it's much better :)

As written by Elizabeth H.

Almost 2 1/2 years ago, I was walking to go get bread from the small store across Town. I remeber that day because of something that took place then, something that no one could never forget. Since birth, I had had a problem with my left leg, and so I never had the enjoyment of riding a bike as my other siblings did. I always had a limp, but never really thought about me being unfortunate. In fact, I was quite used to it, having had it all my life. As I was walking home, I looked behind me to see a car behind me, at first, I was not concerned. But as I turned, it would turn, and that is the point that I started getting scared and afraid. Now, to get to my home, there was a long gravel alley, and as I was starting to go up the alley, I was relieved to see that the car passed me, but then it stopped and blocked any further move forward. I could go back, but not very fast, so I didn't know what to do. And as I was about to turn and try to get away, one of the two men stepped out and pulled out a gun on me. I was frozen in terror at the thought of my life being taken that I could not move, and when he told me to get in the trunk of the car, I still could not find it in me to move. He finally had to carry a terrified, weeping me to the car trunk. He tied my hands up and then gagged me. I had forgotten to bring my cellphone and at that time felt very foolish for having done so. In the trunk, horror filled my mind, I had heard of terrible things men had done to girls, and I also thought about things like, "What if they kill me? What if I never see my family again?" As we bumped along, I fell asleep. I awoke to the sound of yelling, and found that they were yelling at me to get up and out of the car, which took some time. He then pulled his gun out and my heart began to sink within me, when I felt a sharp and excruciating pain on my left ankle, which brought me to the ground and was so painful that I passed out. I awoke to find I was once more in the trunk of the car, bumping along. Then, the car stopped short, and the trunk once again opened. I looked around to find that I was in a wooded area, and then they had to help me get out. They forced me to walk, however, even if I had to limp. We soon arrived at a one story house, and forced inside. I was shown where I was to sleep, which was a pile of sticks and fabric ontop. When I awoke, it was because of a painful hit on my jaw, I found that one of the men had hit my jaw with the end of his gun to wake me up. I did, but I had to stand on one foot, they told me to stand on both my feet, but I could not. So they hit my jaw again, and I later found out it had crushed my jaw. The throbs in my ankle were coming back again, and I pleaded with them to take the bullet out, which of course they would not do. Living like this for half a year, I thought that I would never go home again, I'd already missed my 13th birthday. I couldn't talk at all, and they had not only shot both my ankles before, they shot the palms of my hands, so I couldn't walk or talk. One night, I heard them conversing, and saying that they might as well let me go and that they had given me enough not to talk for two lifetimes. And the next morning, they put me in the backseat of the car, and drove me to a small, hardly used alley, where one man lay me down, and they sped off. They had left me there, left me to die. I passed out, and the terror left my mind for quite a while.

As written by: Morgan H.

Riding my bike along a deserted dirt road one chilly, winter night, I saw something up ahead of me that appeared to be a person laying on the ground. I rode up to it and what I saw, chilled me, I saw it was not only a person terribly and brutally injured, I realized it was my younger sister, laying there on the road with ripped jeans and a ripped t-shirt. Immediately, I started weeping, but I knew I couldn't sit there, I found a hearbeat and then I took my cellphone out of my purse and hastily dialed 911. I was immediately answered and I told them where I was. She was barely recognizable -- so pale, so thin, so lifeless. As the ambulance put her in and I climbed in, I was thinking angry thoughts. The people who had done this to my sister were evil -- I hated them! How could they do it to her? I called my parents to let them know, and as soon as the ambulance arrived, my sister was brought to the emergency room. Where they said they would have to do emergency surgery. Dad and mom arrived, I could tell they were excited -- yet wondering if she was okay. I explained through tears what she looked like, and that she most likely wouldn't make it. Mom, dad and I started earnestly praying for her, and we called friends to pray for her. A nurse came to explain details, "She has a shattered jaw, a few bullets lodged in her -- one in each ankle, one on each palm. She most likely will suffer from brain damage, and she has a lot of swelling and infection because of the bullets being there for quite some time. I'm sorry, we will do all we can. There is much more, but I don't have time to explain." When she left, an elderly gentleman who was sitting across from us said that he would pray with us, and we all started praying fervently. When my sister got out of surgery nearly five hours later, she was clean, but still badly bruised and ill looking. She still was not awake, and the doctors said that she would not be awake for some time. The next morning came, my parents and I got ready to go check on her, leaving the younger siblings home with my seventeen year old sister. When we got there, she was awake, but she looked depressed. When she saw us, she didn't smile, but you could tell that she was much happier than before. The doctor told us that he figured out she could not talk, and probably never would. He said that she probably could use her hands again, but not her legs. As the days passed, no sign of recovery was showing, she had had five surgeries in nine days. She was starting to take pills and drugs to help her. After nearly a year in the hospital, my sister had started being able to use her hands by rehab people helping her. They said that there was no chance of her walking again, and after another half year in the hospital, at 14 1/2 years old, my sister could communicate by typing, hand writing or sign language. She has a wheelchair now, and loves to ride around in it. She still has several surgeries to go, and has to go on doctor visits once a week. She is now fifteen and still can't talk or walk. Please be praying for her.

The end.

Revised, 2012