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Don’t Look BackLoading...
Victoria Cadieux
Hello, it’s me.
You don’t know me.
That’s okay.
I have managed to get a hold of a telecommunications device.
I’m only here to tell you — Run and don’t look back.
…
It took all of my will to keep running. I was running out of breath, feeling like a brick was weighing down on my lungs. The cold air hitting my face and freezing my cheeks, I kept running.
They were taking people away. I saw them do it. I saw them tearing a little girl from her distraught parents, without giving a care as to what the rest of the now broken family members would feel. That hurt to witness. The screaming, the crying, the kicking, nothing the child tried worked. She was taken away. They were all taken away.
I don’t know where they brought the kids, I don’t know the reasoning behind their actions, I don’t even know who “they” really are. I only know that I — and all other children for that matter — weren’t safe.
My parents had told me to run away, and to go hide, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to leave the rest of my family, my baby brother included, somewhere unknown, somewhere that could potentially harm them.
Until I saw a child disappear. I’m not joking, at all. I most likely sound mentally ill or somewhat like I’ve had too many experiences with hallucinatory substances, but believe me when I say this. The child vanished. It was a little boy — he had been crying, and suddenly stopped. He fell to the ground, and in the blink of an eye, he didn’t exist any longer. I don’t know what they did with him. I don’t know anything more, even if I wish I did.
I just know I can’t end up there either. I’m writing to you in hopes that someone will have information that can help me, and that can get me out of here. I know they’ve sent their people after me. I’ve been running for two days, but I won’t be able to run forever.
You don’t know me.
That’s okay.
I have managed to get a hold of a telecommunications device.
I’m only here to tell you — Run and don’t look back.
…
It took all of my will to keep running. I was running out of breath, feeling like a brick was weighing down on my lungs. The cold air hitting my face and freezing my cheeks, I kept running.
They were taking people away. I saw them do it. I saw them tearing a little girl from her distraught parents, without giving a care as to what the rest of the now broken family members would feel. That hurt to witness. The screaming, the crying, the kicking, nothing the child tried worked. She was taken away. They were all taken away.
I don’t know where they brought the kids, I don’t know the reasoning behind their actions, I don’t even know who “they” really are. I only know that I — and all other children for that matter — weren’t safe.
My parents had told me to run away, and to go hide, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to leave the rest of my family, my baby brother included, somewhere unknown, somewhere that could potentially harm them.
Until I saw a child disappear. I’m not joking, at all. I most likely sound mentally ill or somewhat like I’ve had too many experiences with hallucinatory substances, but believe me when I say this. The child vanished. It was a little boy — he had been crying, and suddenly stopped. He fell to the ground, and in the blink of an eye, he didn’t exist any longer. I don’t know what they did with him. I don’t know anything more, even if I wish I did.
I just know I can’t end up there either. I’m writing to you in hopes that someone will have information that can help me, and that can get me out of here. I know they’ve sent their people after me. I’ve been running for two days, but I won’t be able to run forever.