People call me "Lost."
I"m okay with that. I don't remember my real name.
People started calling me "Lost" on my thirteenth birthday. The day I was taken.
"Mom," I complained. "I'm too old to have a party."
My mom shook her head, but her eyes didnt' leave the plate she was washing. "Thirteen is not too old. Most girls I know had birthdays until they were fifteen."
"Now, hush. Go upstairs and get ready. They'll be here in about-" she paused to look at clock- "an hour."
I stood there in a huff until she shooed me away.
Mumbling to myself, I truged up the stairs to my room to get dressed.
Okay, my mom had gone too far. Way too far.
The outfit she'd picked out was a slim pink dress with red flowers and a white fluff on the end. She'd even picked out heels that matched.
"Ugh!" I groaned, flopping backwards onto the bed and putting my hands over my face.
"Niomi!" I heard my mother call upstairs after a few minutes. "Are you ready yet?"
"No!" I called back, rolling to my feet. I stripped off my clothes and slipped into the dress.
I felt like an idiot. I reluctantly slipped on the heels and combed my hair. I took a deep breath and almost fell down the stairs.
"Oh no." I gasped as I caught a glimps of the living room. My mom'd used the same party decorations that she used when I was ten. "Mom!"
She came bustling in. She smiled when she saw my dress. But then she saw the frown on my face and scowled. "Niomi," she sighed. "It's only going to be your father and I. Calm down."
I took a deep breath. It actually worked, for once.
But, that calm wouldn't last long.