up.
Iâm on my feet and following them out of Rittenhouse Square before I realize it. Keeping half a city block between us, I almost miss it when they duck down an alley behind a sleazy bar and disappear into a back entrance. An old comic book store is on the other side of the street. I cross, go inside, and wait. I flip through comic after comic without really paying any attention. I canât drop my gaze from the bar entrance.
Donât lose her again, Piper. She needs you.
Standing and watching, I wait at the window display until I see them come out an hour later. Even from across the street it is clear heâs spent the entire time drinking. Instead of holding her hand, he drags her along by the hair. For the first time, I see her whole face and realize that her features are distinctly Asian. His are not.
He probably kidnapped her. See? I told you.
It doesnât matter though. Sam and I know better than anyone that a kid doesnât have to be stolen from their family to be in danger. I wait until they get a little farther down the street before sneaking out of the shop and following again. Sam and I feel everything the little girl does: the fear of how heâll hurt her next, the dread of how much worse it could turn when she gets home, the need to do everything perfectly right even though she knows it wonât be enough to save her from more pain.
At the next corner they turn right, and I follow them to a building in South Philly seven blocks away. He pulls her into a dingy basement apartment and I walk past, trying not to be too obvious as I check the place out.
An alley leads to an area at the rear of the building that probably was grass at one point but now is just overgrown weeds and a single large tree. The stench of garbage is so strong I cover my nose as I sneak around and peek through the only window I can find.
One pane is very dirty but I can still see through it, and the other is broken and half covered by a piece of cardboard. A television is the only noise I hear coming from inside.
I crouch in the shadows of the tree. Itâs dark now, and the branches hang so low I can barely make out my hand in front of my face. If I hold very still, he shouldnât be able to see me here, but I can see in the apartment as he drags the little girl through the kitchen.
At first, I think heâs heading to the fridge, but he walks past it and opens a miniature door to a space under the stairs. Inside, I see a blanket and a box of crackers with a small, bloody handprint on the label. With a shove, he pushes her inside, and I flinch at the impact as she lands hard on her knees. Then he closes the door behind her, slides a lock into place, and grabs a beer from the fridge.
Trembling, I wrap my arms across my knees as he turns off the light and leaves the kitchen. I can still hear the TV, but there is no noise from the girl. No sign of life. If she ever fought him, she gave up long ago. No one else would understand that, but I do. Itâs easy to underestimate how terrifying it is to fight back when youâve never had to do it. It takes almost an hour and every ounce of my self-control to ignore Sam pleading in my head and get to my feet.
Help her! Save her, please.
I walk home in the darkness to my new life in my new apartment.
And nothing feels new at all.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Even through the pillow over my head, I can hear the pounding no matter how much I wish I couldnât. When images of the girl in her cold cupboard arenât keeping me awake, nightmares of burying Sam under the old pine tree torment me. I donât allow myself to think about what happened after I threw on the last shovelful of dirt.
My brain feels ready to explode through my forehead, and when the pounding stops itâs the sweetest relief Iâve felt in a long timeâuntil it starts again. I feel the warmth on the floor beside me and it takes a moment to remember that it isnât
Iâm on my feet and following them out of Rittenhouse Square before I realize it. Keeping half a city block between us, I almost miss it when they duck down an alley behind a sleazy bar and disappear into a back entrance. An old comic book store is on the other side of the street. I cross, go inside, and wait. I flip through comic after comic without really paying any attention. I canât drop my gaze from the bar entrance.
Donât lose her again, Piper. She needs you.
Standing and watching, I wait at the window display until I see them come out an hour later. Even from across the street it is clear heâs spent the entire time drinking. Instead of holding her hand, he drags her along by the hair. For the first time, I see her whole face and realize that her features are distinctly Asian. His are not.
He probably kidnapped her. See? I told you.
It doesnât matter though. Sam and I know better than anyone that a kid doesnât have to be stolen from their family to be in danger. I wait until they get a little farther down the street before sneaking out of the shop and following again. Sam and I feel everything the little girl does: the fear of how heâll hurt her next, the dread of how much worse it could turn when she gets home, the need to do everything perfectly right even though she knows it wonât be enough to save her from more pain.
At the next corner they turn right, and I follow them to a building in South Philly seven blocks away. He pulls her into a dingy basement apartment and I walk past, trying not to be too obvious as I check the place out.
An alley leads to an area at the rear of the building that probably was grass at one point but now is just overgrown weeds and a single large tree. The stench of garbage is so strong I cover my nose as I sneak around and peek through the only window I can find.
One pane is very dirty but I can still see through it, and the other is broken and half covered by a piece of cardboard. A television is the only noise I hear coming from inside.
I crouch in the shadows of the tree. Itâs dark now, and the branches hang so low I can barely make out my hand in front of my face. If I hold very still, he shouldnât be able to see me here, but I can see in the apartment as he drags the little girl through the kitchen.
At first, I think heâs heading to the fridge, but he walks past it and opens a miniature door to a space under the stairs. Inside, I see a blanket and a box of crackers with a small, bloody handprint on the label. With a shove, he pushes her inside, and I flinch at the impact as she lands hard on her knees. Then he closes the door behind her, slides a lock into place, and grabs a beer from the fridge.
Trembling, I wrap my arms across my knees as he turns off the light and leaves the kitchen. I can still hear the TV, but there is no noise from the girl. No sign of life. If she ever fought him, she gave up long ago. No one else would understand that, but I do. Itâs easy to underestimate how terrifying it is to fight back when youâve never had to do it. It takes almost an hour and every ounce of my self-control to ignore Sam pleading in my head and get to my feet.
Help her! Save her, please.
I walk home in the darkness to my new life in my new apartment.
And nothing feels new at all.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Even through the pillow over my head, I can hear the pounding no matter how much I wish I couldnât. When images of the girl in her cold cupboard arenât keeping me awake, nightmares of burying Sam under the old pine tree torment me. I donât allow myself to think about what happened after I threw on the last shovelful of dirt.
My brain feels ready to explode through my forehead, and when the pounding stops itâs the sweetest relief Iâve felt in a long timeâuntil it starts again. I feel the warmth on the floor beside me and it takes a moment to remember that it isnât
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