Song: Space Song by Beach House

~Three weeks later on a Tuesday~

I shuffle into the kitchen with a small yawn, my fuzzy blue socks barely on my feet. I open the refrigerator door and sleepily glance at the empty shelves. I guess I'll have to skip breakfast again.

It had been another long and sleepless night, my mind awake and constantly thinking. There was too much thinking and I wanted it to stop.

I so desperately, more than anything, wanted it to stop.

I just wanted to lie down and think of nothing. For once, close my eyes without my thoughts screaming inside my head. I glance over at the clock and squint, trying to read the time.

1:34 pm

I hear a low growl and quickly place a hand over my stomach trying to help silence the empty echo. Realizing staring at the empty shelves wasn't going to make food appear, I walk over to mom's bedroom and carefully crack the door open.

"Mom?" I whisper. When no one answers I shut the door and lean my head against the wooden frame. Just breathe.

I take a deep breath before grabbing my sneakers that lay spread out beside the couch and shove my sock covered feet into them. I make my way to the front door, not even bothering to brush my hair or change out of my over-sized T'shirt. I quickly eat a fruit flavored Tic-Tac, before breathing into my hand and sniffing the air, good enough.

I let my hand hover above the knob of the front door and smile at the smooth face of the teal door.

Just smile, everything will be okay.

---

The wind rushes through my tangled hair as I pedal across the empty streets, passing cookie-cutter houses that all look the same. Leaves fall around me like a waterfall as I pass through a grove of oak trees.

When I finally make it to the small park of Haywood, I park my bike in a rack and walk to my favorite bench under a maple tree.

This was my favorite place to go. It was where I first learned to ride my bike and where my brother and I first played football together. It was the spot where we would have picnics and stare up at the trees while watching as birds flew over us.

This park was where I learned to swing from the monkey bars and where I first lost my tooth. It was where I learned to drive at fifteen and where I had my first kiss. This park means so much to me because It had been the home to so many memories, so many times that I treasured the most. The times I never wanted to forget.

Sometimes I wished that I could go back, to those times. When I would wake my Brother up super early on Christmas morning so we could sneak downstairs and peak at our gifts or when my only worry was if the cute boy next door thought I was pretty. When times were simple and perfect.

I sit down, my legs brushing against the wood of the bench. I stare down at my shoes and let out a deep breath. Suddenly I hear a scream and I look up from my shoes, watching as a little boy rushes past me in a frenzy. I watch as his long, blonde hair bounces across his shoulders as he runs through the leaves in a rush. My smile drops when his panic-filled, bright, blue eyes meet mine.

The little boy looks behind him nervously before he rushes over to me, shyly and frantically squeaking a small hi. 

"Hello," I breathe before he plops down on the bench next to me and cuddles close to my side, hiding his face in the folds of my shirt.

What the-

Before I can say anything or ask if he's okay, he looks up at me, his clear eyes shining in amusement a small, shy smile tugging on the corners of his lips. Something was awfully familiar about this boy and although he seemed to only be about three or four he looked like he was up to no good. Before I can say anything a loud shout comes from the frisbee field, "Cannon Murphy Williams!"

The small boy who I assume to be Cannon flinches before snuggling deeper into my side. I look down at his small body and then back to the frisbee field where a tall, bulky figure walks towards us. I didn't have my glasses with me so I couldn't quite see his features but I didn't have to see his face to know that this man was mad.

My heartbeat picks up and my mind starts to race, what if this little boy is being kidnapped? What if he's being abused?

My arm immediately wraps around the little boy securely and I hug him close to my body. I can hear the footsteps of the approaching man as he nears our wooden bench and I quickly reach for my bag, searching for my phone or anything that could help us.

I grab my phone from my purse pocket, quickly swiping up and getting ready to call the police if needed.

When I look up to face the person who had this sweet little boy so scared I gasp, "Solo?"

"Shrimpy?"

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