Kidnapped

A fit of cough left me as I changed the sheets full of dust of the four post bed. The old wooden floor beneath my feet creaked as I moved around the dark room. Stale air around the ambience pointed to the years of solitary.

After all, not even a soul has visited this house after her death.

Once I was done cleaning the room, I checked all the doors and windows if they were locked before slumping on the bed. Then the photo frame on the bedside table caught my eye.

Dust covered the wrinkled face of the person in the photo.

My dear late grandmother. I could imagine the stink eye she would give me finding me on her doorsteps again if she were alive. Just like she did when I left Theresa's house when I was fourteen and begged her to let me stay until I was old enough to live alone. Because I didn't want to sleep on the street.

To save her reputation in the society, she let her long forgotten son's bastard child in. Even if I worked at a local cafe at fifteen and bore my own expenses as