Taken In Plain Sight

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 I wasn’t supposed to be in that part of the market. It was one of those crowded weekend rushes. People brushing past you, sellers shouting over each other, the smell of spice and sweat hanging thick in the air. I was just trying to get through quickly, head down, phone in hand.

That’s when someone grabbed my wrist. Not lightly. Tight. Urgent. I turned, already annoyed, ready to snap at whoever thought that was okay. It was a woman. Older. Mid 40s maybe. Her grip didn’t loosen.


“Daniel,”


She said. I froze. I hadn’t told anyone my name. I hadn’t spoken to anyone since I got there.


“Daniel, there you are,”


She said again, louder this time.


“Why did you run off like that?”


“I think you’ve got the wrong person,”


I said, trying to pull my hand free. Her grip tightened.


“Stop it,”


She whispered, her expression not changing, her smile fixed like it was painted on.


“Don’t do this here.”


My chest tightened. “Let go of me.”


People were starting to look.


“She’s your mother, isn’t she?”


A man nearby said casually, like he’d seen this a hundred times.


“No, I don’t know her.”


I said quickly. The woman laughed softly.


“Teenagers,”


She said, rolling her eyes at the small crowd forming.


“They act like this when they’re angry.”


“I’m not”


I said. She leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear.


“Play along, or they’ll help me”


She whispered. I felt something cold crawl up my spine.


“I don’t know you,”


I said louder, trying to pull attention back. But now the crowd was shifting not toward me, but toward her.


“Just go with her. Don’t make a scene.”


Someone said.


“Respect your mother,”


Another voice added. My grip weakened not physically, but mentally. The doubt started creeping in. Not that she was my mother, but that maybe I couldn’t win this.


She started pulling me gently now, guiding me through the crowd.


“Come on, let’s go home.”


She said softly. I dug my shoved her away and said,


“No.”


For the first time, her smile faltered. Just slightly. Her eyes hardened. Then she raised her voice suddenly, sharp and panicked.


“Help! My son is being difficult again!”


Hands touched my shoulders. Not helping me but holding me.


“Take him,” someone said. “Before he runs again.”


Someone said. That’s when I understood. It didn’t matter what I said. The crowd had already decided the story. And I wasn’t the one they believed. I don’t remember how I got free. I just remember twisting hard, shoving through bodies, hearing her voice behind me.


“Daniel!”


I didn’t stop running until I reached the main road. Later that night, I checked something that kept bothering me. I searched missing persons reports. Not for myself but for her. I found a photo. Same face. Same smile. The headline read:


“Woman Arrested Twice for Attempted Child Abduction. Claims Victims Are ‘Her Children.’ Released Due to Lack of Evidence.”

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