A Wall and A Stool
Another minute, another hour; I had
been waiting outside of the theater after my rehearsal for 3 hours now, waiting
for my dad to show up. I rolled my eyes and yanked my phone charger from the
outlet. Another seven mile walk with my six AP textbooks and stage binders. I
packed up my stuff and rose from the bench, with my hundred-ton backpack. I
began my walk at a quick pace towards a small alley through Lanston Avenue, which
I had previously taken as a shortcut. I gazed up the few stars visible in the sky
and drew out a cold breath. The clouds thundered above as I tried to locate safe
shelter for my textbooks and me. I swiftly stepped into a small, run down
building as the rain began to fall.
"Hey!" I looked around to find a source to the loud
voice. More mumbled cries echoed through the hall. As I stored my books safely
in behind a wall, I caught sight of a small, dimly illuminated opening to crawl
through. I slowly made my way towards a battered, but well-lit room. A tear rolled
down my cheek and my heart ached.
Another shrill scream of an innocent
girl reverberated through the room, and I grimaced. Small tied up children were
being whipped, slapped, and tortured until the abusive adults reached
satisfaction. I crawled backwards to the opening when I hit a wall. I tried to
turn when something grabbed my legs and yanked me out.
"Well well, what do we have
here?" A thunderous voice rumbled through the building, and I trembled in
the large hands of this man with horrifying tattoos and scary piercings.
"Ha-ha! Boss will like this
one, she's fresh meat!" Another vicious voice spit, and at that, I scoffed
and shoved out of his grip.
"Ahem," dusting off myself
dramatically, "I happen to be a person, and those children," I said
pointing towards the astringent room, "happen to be innocent and have done
no wrong!"
Surprised by my sudden outburst, the
men looked dumbfounded. My mother always said, 'Hit a wall? Step on a stool and
hit it right back', I always thought that was ludicrous because in the end
you'd anyways end up in pain; but today, I thought it came in handy. One of the
men let out an acrimonious gruff and next thing I knew, it was pitch black.
I woke to, what seemed as hours
later, a faint room with crying children around me, some crying in pain, others
whimpering in fear. A loud thunderous voice pierced through the room, "All
right men! We're done for the day, these things will be shipped in the morning,
oh and include the fresh meat as well." I gasped at his order and pulled
my legs to my stomach. They killed the lights and I squirmed out of the tight
grasp of the rope to pull my phone out of my right boot. I quickly dialed '911'
when someone appeared in front of me.
"Hey! What do you think you're
doing? Well! Not on my watch!" he kicked the phone out of my hand and my
heart dropped several levels. "You think the police will come and rescue
you? Well, forget about it! That's another 35 beats for you!" He hit me,
and he hit hard. I could feel the dents and cracks in my bones with the hard swings
of the bat. Before I blacked out, I smiled at the next four words announced
from the phone, "911, what's your emergency?"
About
5 years later
"…and that's my story. These
children now are very healthy and all in school! The men who committed this
injustice are also being taught a lesson, something for everyone! So yea, I hit
a wall, but always keep a stool handy, because you never know when you're gonna
need it to jump back up and give it a turn around." I smiled and accepted
the applause as I hobbled off the stage with my crutch.
"That was wonderful! It was so
inspiring, I'm crying!" My mom jumped with enthusiasm as she handed me
another medication to be taken. It had been about five years since the
incident, and well, I was still recovering from the traumatic event with the
miracle work of the doctors. The news of my story went viral, and parents of
those children were so thankful they all pitched in for my operation, which was
one and half weeks long. I stepped out, signing autographs and taking pictures,
slowly making my way to the car. Once we got out of the large crowd of people,
we headed to the Rosettes Foundation HQ; I was proud to have begun this
organization after my surgery had taken place, the foundation provided for
abused children and strived to put an end to trafficking schemes
"Alexis! We have just found a
small group working on Lanston Avenue," my mind flashed back five years;
"…we are sendi-"
"No, I will go along; some
people will never get it and will have to have it the hard way." And with
that, I turned towards the car.
So to my
readers: I really hope you find your stool, in any situation.
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