You Will Be Found

Chapter One

I died. I swear I was dead. As in dead-dead and not the eating brains kind of dead. Just a moment ago, I was sick with infection, delirious with fever, and I swear I just saw the face of my beautiful mother that I have vague recollections of from my childhood. I knew I was really, really sick. I knew whispering for water to whet my sore throat would do me little good. I knew neither of them would come and check on me. I knew I had already outlived my usefulness to them. I knew they wouldn't come, knew they wouldn't hold me as I passed, knew they wouldn't offer words of comfort for my already empty life.

Yeah. I, Lina Laruna, aged eighteen, died alone.

So the screech of wheels and the thumping of pain that radiated down my left hip and knee left me completely shocked and bewildered as I landed on the side of the road, grazing my hands and legs raw on the asphalt. What the heck was happening?

I looked up to find myself outside under a grey sky, on a busy street in a typical school district that those happy, well-off families all like to live in while their kids go to school. A street banner stretched over the road nearby, declaring salutations for students completing their exams today.

Exams. I remember. This happened to me before.

Car exhaust, rumbling buses, bike bells, and chaotic pedestrians walking and chatting and going about their day. Before me, the car door opened and a driver got out to check on me. A hand landed on my shoulder, making me flinch. His kindly face asking me something that I couldn't make out for the ringing in my head and the breath passing in and out of my lungs at a rapid pace. I shook my head as he tried to help me up, brushed his hands off me as I tried to stand on my own, wincing as the bruising on my hip and leg made itself known.

"Is the girl all right, Carlyle?" An older, familiar voice came into momentary clarity. I turned to find Mr Baxley getting out of the back of the charcoal Range Rover that had hit me moments before. Oh. Oh, yes. I remember this. This is when it all began.

My life has never, ever been easy. I basically grew up alone, with my so-called guardians stopping by once a year to make sure I wasn't missing or dead. That stopped the moment I turned eighteen last year, and they refused to answer my calls, refused to open discussions about my apparent trust fund, and I never met them ever again. That was my sole experience with 'family' since the age of five when I became parentless.

Then this happened. I stared at the kind face before me and nearly burst into tears. Don't get me wrong, this elder man is an amazing gentleman, so kind and honest. It is his family that sent me packing the moment Mr Baxley shared an ounce of kindness and interest in a gutter rat like me. His family made sure I went missing, never to be found again... until I was.

I turned around, looked at the movement around me on the street again, the banner declaring exam season, the Range Rover, Mr Baxley and his driver, Carlyle. My knee throbbed as I bent down to collect my black glasses that had come off my face and my school bag, the strap holding itself together with safety pins.

"I'm OK," I whispered as the trembling set in. I cleared my throat again and shook my head as Carlyle offered a hand. I dodged it, bowed a little, and apologised.

"I'm sorry for not watching where I was going." I pulled out a scrap of paper, quickly wrote the number to my very outdated cell phone, and shoved it in the driver's hand. "I'm sorry. If there is any damage, I can pay." There wouldn't be. Mr Baxley wouldn't expect me to pay anyway.

"Ask the little girl if we can take her to hospital, Carlyle." I remember those same words the last time. I shook my head before the driver repeated the elder gentleman's query.

"I'm OK. I need to go. I have exams." I bowed again. "I'm sorry." I turned and shuffled back onto the footpath where a group of rubberneckers were watching the scene for their daily intake of real-life drama.