I slowly crack open my eyes as my alarm begins to beep. I groan as I reluctantly sit to turn off the alarm. When the beeping stops, I look out my window at the bright sun. Mother is getting ready to leave for work, my father has long since left.

I stand and walk to my bathroom and look in my mirror. My long brown hair falls messy on my shoulders and back. Makeup is smudged under my big blue eyes. I sigh and splash cold water in my face. I trudge to the kitchen and sit down at the table.

“Good morning Annabel!” my mother calls cheerily over her shoulder.

“Hello,” I grumble tiredly.

“I have to leave for work, but there is cereal in the cupboard. Just make yourself breakfast. Oh, don’t forget to clean the house,” she yells as she walks out of the house. “Bye, Annie!”

The door slams close, and I am alone again. My parents are never home, and me being the only child have to clean up the messes they make. They think that because I’m sixteen now, I want to be alone, but that is not true. I sigh and stand up. Dad drives to his bookstore; Mom walks to work at the restaurant she opened, and I just sit at home all day.

There are times when I vaguely remembered having another sibling; I think it was a brother. Every time I bring this up to my parents, however, they tell me I’m just making someone up, that my mind is playing tricks on me, but I had a bad accident as a child, so I suppose it could all be my imagination.
When I was four, someone, I can’t remember who, pushed me down a large flight of stairs, I was in a coma for a few days. My parents never told me who did it. Whenever I ask they get a pained expression and tell me not to bring it up again. I assume because it was such a hard time for them, so I haven’t brought it up lately. Whenever I think about it though, I try to remember, but it’s as if I have that memory blocked.

I shake my head and walk to the fridge and open it. The cold air rushes out giving me chills. I peer in, it’s nearly empty. I slam the door closed. My parents seem to forget that I always sit at home while they’re gone. I grab the cereal box and sit down on the soft couch. As I snatch up the remote for the television, I hear a car. “Who could that be?” I stand to peek out of the window.

Two large men jump out of the car. My heart starts to race. Dressed completely in black, the big men begin to walk to the front door. I don’t know what to do. I sprint to our huge closet in the hallway. Coats are hung up with boxes of mittens and hats sitting on the floor. I crawl into the closet and cram into the back corner. I pull some boxes closer to me and grab a jacket and throw it over my head. I hear footsteps in my living room.

“Do you think anyone is here?” a gruff voice asks.

“I don’t think so. The owners both work all day, and they have a daughter, but it doesn’t seem to me that she is here,” another man states and chuckles.

Chills run down my spine at the laugh. How did he know so much about my family? I wish the wall would swallow me up. The men walk into the living room, it sounds like furniture is being moved around.

“Maybe we should check the bedrooms; just to be sure that no one is here. I feel like there is someone else in the house with us,” the gruff man tells his companion.

“Stop being such a baby. Go ahead and check the rooms if you want, but hurry. I need help getting this TV out of here,”

Footsteps pass by the closet. I sit as still as I can. I hear a door open; he must be in my parents’ room. The footsteps walk around the room then exit. He walks and opens another door, my room. I listen, quietly, as I hear him walk around.

“Yeah, no one is here,” he concludes.

“I told you. Now come here and help me,” the other man yells from the living room.

The man slowly leaves the room. He walks by the closet and stops. The door slowly slides open. I cover my head with the jacket and pull my knees to my chest. The man shuffles through a few of the coats and walks away.

I hear them huffing as they carried the heavy television down the stairs and out the door. I heard the slam as the door closed, and then the car starts. Slowly, I exit the closet. Everything in my house lay scattered and broken on the floor. My jaw drops open. The house looks catastrophic. Our TV and computer were gone, along with a few kitchen chairs.

I begin to walk down the stairs. The door flies open. I jump back and scream. My eyes meet a big man, he towers over me. His dark green eyes glare into mine. I can’t move or speak. He growls and jumps at me. I yell as loud as I can. He grabs me and puts a big hand over my mouth.

“I knew we were being watched,” he snarls. “Jack!” he hollers, “I got a kid,”

The smaller of the two men, who I learn is named Jack, appears at the door. His small black eyes peered at me with such intensity and hatred that I began to shake.

“Stick her in the back of the van,” is all he says as he turns his back and walks out of the house.

I can feel myself walk along the path as I watch Jack walk ahead of me. The big man picks me up and tosses me into the back of the blue van. I looked around; my TV and computer were sitting by me. Tears begin to slip down my cheeks. No one is going to find me. My parent’s work all day, and by the time they arrive home who knows where I’ll be. This has to be one of the craziest mornings of my life.

As the van drives, I try to think of a way to save myself. There are no windows, only darkness surrounds me. The door is locked and I can’t open it. All of a sudden the door is yanked open. Jack stands in front of me, an evil smile plastered on his face. I don’t know why, but he looks familiar. I just stare at him.

“Welcome to your new home, Annie,” he sneers my name.

My breath catches in my throat. “H-how do you know my name?” I stutter.

“You really don’t recognize me?” he laughs a wicked laugh. “Maybe this will remind you.”

I jump as he throws something at me. It’s a picture. There’s a young girl with a teenage boy standing in front of a large pine tree; both were smiling happily. I’m the child in it, but I don’t know the young man who is standing next to me, he appears to be just a few years older than me. He looks oddly similar to the man standing before me. I glance up at him. “I don’t recognize this man,” I told him.

His small mouth turns into an angry frown. “They’re trying to erase me from your memory now too,” he says out loud, but it seems as if he is talking to himself. “That is you and me, at your sixth birthday. The last day I remember seeing you,” he sounds almost sad. There is a flash of something in his eyes, but then it’s gone.

I look into his dark eyes and gain courage. “Who are you?” I question. His eyes slowly slide to mine.

“I,” he growls, “am your older brother.”