Taken

When I was 8, I got kidnapped. I never saw my family again. Well, technically it was the day before my eight birthday, on the last day of school.
I was short for my age, though not particularly skinny. That was soon to change. My abductor was italian, but sometimes spoke in english as well. Before I was taken I'd never heard italian, so I nevr knew for sure that that was what he spoke. As I could understand the odd word of his english, I just figured I didn't speak english very well. Which was true of course, I only knew some because I kept asking anyone who would answer what different words meant. People soon got fed up, so I stopped asking. I'd always been good with languages though, and was one of the first in our class to crack the reading code when we got our first proper reading book. However, I didn't understand what a man who didn't speak norwegian was doing in Norway. At least I don't think he understood, he never answered me in a language I understood, norwegian being the only one of course.
I was reported missing the very same day. The police, and later volunteers searched the entire forest by my school. I sometimes used to walk through it on my way home if I wasn't in a rush. Which I certainly wasn't that day. It was 20 june 1997, and I'd just finished the last day of school before summer. I sometimes wonder how things would have turned out if I hadn't walked through the forest that day. There was no point searching the forest of course. By the time I was reported missing I were nowhere near that forest, although I cannot know that for sure, me being unconscious at the time, but I was either in the back of a van or locked up in a basement somewhere. A basement I would be stuck in for the next 3 months. I only know about the van because I was still conscious when he put me in the back of it. I distinctly remember a needle, but that is all. Next thing I know I'm in a dark basement, having no idea how far we'd driven or where we were. Not that it would have made a difference knowing how far we'd gone, I never was very good with geography and never paid attention when we were driving anywhere, so I probably wouldn't have been able to guess where we'd ended up.

The first couple of days I was sure I'd be rescued. After all, every child ever kidnapped on TV was rescued by a team of very clever FBI agents. Usually one of them would be a pretty woman. Later I was not so sure. I soon lost track of what day it was or how long I'd been there. In the beginning I'd get 3 meals a day. Usually bread with cheese. I never really liked cheese, but soon learned to eat it, otherwise I'd get a beating. Some days I had to go without food. On days like these I'd fill up on water, although that meant I'd be constantly running to the toilet. However that was better than feeling comletly empty. I'd often fall asleep from exhaustion, and I'd sometimes think about my little brother. He was only 3 year old when I was taken, and I wondered if he'd remember me. I was never worried about my parents forgetting me. 'Cause adults don't forget people as fast as children do. At least that's what I thought.