I was about ten years old living in the northeast.

One afternoon I was walking home from school when I saw a man up the road ahead of me, walking

toward the sidewalk.

My mind was sort of wandering in space, so I barely took notice of him.

He in a slight limp which made him stand out from the background of my daydreaming.

I kept walking.

His path began to converge with mine.

I didn't react.

I also didn't see the cloth bag in his hand until he was right next to me, throwing it

over my head.

I felt the bag cinch around my neck with a strong jerk as he swept me off my feet.

Within seconds he had thrown me into the back of a van and was driving down the road again

as if nothing had happened.

My body immediately began to ache from the trauma of being tossed around like a ragdoll

and left unscured on the cold metal floor of a moving vehicle.

Stunned by the sudden attack, it was several minutes before I began screaming and crying

as the realization set in.

I had been kidnapped, and I was not going to see my family again.

I felt my chest crushing in at the thought.

A moment after my fit of crying started, I felt the gravity shift under me as the van

pulled over onto what sounded like the shoulder of a highway.

The man got up from a seat, pulled up the hood on my head and shoved a rag into my mouth.

...