Member-only story
Chasing Shadows, Finding Light
The summer I was almost taken
Struggling to keep up with my father’s long, determined strides, I broke into a jog, my little legs taking three hurried steps for every one of his. My eyes darted through the sea of faces, searching desperately for a bald head, a brown cap, or that filthy blue shirt. We combed the streets for two relentless hours — an eternity of vigilance — before I finally surrendered to the safety of my father’s arms.
The man I was confident I could recognize in an instant had vanished, slipping through the cracks of the world like a shadow at dusk.
I almost believed I was the hunter in this pursuit — sharp-eyed and determined — but now I understand how skewed that belief was.
Earlier in the afternoon, I had been the prey: small, vulnerable, and trembling under fear, while he had been the predator, lurking and waiting. Now, with my father beside me, something inside my six-year-old heart burned hotter than fear. It was rage, fierce and unfamiliar, a fire I had never known I could possess.
Later, as we sat in the car on the drive home, I glanced at my father. His face was pale. His jaw clenched as though he had lost a battle before he even had the chance to fight. Looking back, I realize his anger mirrored mine, perhaps even surpassed it.
