Positive

Mila

I opened my eyes to my childhood room. The feeling of warmth and safety that came with it was overwhelming. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes.

After my parents had picked me up from the airport, we had come home. My mom had taken off from the restaurant even though Fridays were the busiest over dinner time. She had cooked me pasta with pesto sauce, and we had spent time watching movies and eating chips like we used to when I was still a teenager in the house. My mom hadn’t asked about the kidnapping at all, other than if I was safe and if I had any other medical issues besides the cut on my face.

I had been terrified to come back home to a ton of questions, but my family seemed to understand what I needed.

I rolled over in bed and stretched. It was hard to think that just a few days ago I had been in that basement, stiff and cold and hungry. So much had happened in the last few weeks it felt like a lifetime ago.

When I thought about sitting on that cold concrete floor again, I s