I’m not sure how long I wandered the streets, lost in a fog of disbelief and mental chaos. It must have been hours because it was dark by the time my thoughts cleared enough to make deliberate decisions. I slipped a hand into my back pocket and felt the folded sheet of paper I’d shoved there. A fresh wave of convoluted emotions swept through my body - relief that the note was still there, and panic of the reality it represented.

I left the note in my pocket and pulled out my phone. Reflexively I called the number I’d already tried many times over the previous several hours, and just like every other time it went straight to voicemail.

I didn’t bother leaving a message. If the previous dozen messages hadn’t garnered a call back, the thirteenth wouldn’t either. Instead, I hung up and called the next number in my Recent list, Bethany Franklin.

Bethan had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. In truth, she was my only friend in all the ways that mattered. She was the one I giggled with remembering embarrassing stories, the one I shared my dreams and secret crushes with, the one I cried with while sharing childish broken hearts. And she was the only one I could talk to now.

The line rang four times before a sleepy voice answered, “Hello?”

“Beth -” I couldn’t even finish her name before my voice broke and the tears that I’d finally been able to stifle started flowing again.

“Delilah? What’s wrong?” Bethan’s voice was instantly alert and filled with concern.

It took me a moment to find my voice again. I forced the words out in between the aching sobs, “It’s my dad. He’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean? Oh god, what happened?”

“He left. I don’t know where. He just left.” The fog filled my mind again and I couldn’t think of words to say. I didn’t know how to explain what had happened - I didn’t even know what had happened. I just knew he was gone with no real explanation of why.

“He left? I don’t understand. Like he ran away? Did you get in a fight? Or did he run away with a woman or something?”

I almost laughed. My father? Run away like some petulant child or out partying with some woman in the middle of the night? My father. The quiet computer programmer from Nebraska? The most dedicated and practical person I’d even met, running away and leaving his seventeen-year-old daughter to fend for herself?

My father, who rode his bike to work every day - rain or shine - to save money on gas, and still made it home in time every day to meet me when I got off the bus from school. My father who never once missed a parent-teacher conference, school play, or Sunday afternoon brunch with his only daughter and yet stayed up late nearly every night working freelance jobs just to make a little extra money to be put into saving.

My father was the most sincere, loving, attentive father I could ever imagine - working ever so hard to make up for the void created by being a single dad. My father would never abandon me like that - and yet he had.

“Delilah? Did you try calling him?” Bethany asked, her thoughts nearly as scrambled as mine spilling out in a long consecutive stream. “What am I saying? Of course you called him. Did he answer? What did he say? No, if he answered you wouldn’t have said ‘he just left’. Did the call ring for a while or did it go straight to voicemail? Maybe his phone is turned off. Have you called the police? Maybe he was in a car accident or something? We can check the hospitals. Delilah? Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” I said weakly. “No he wasn’t in an accident and I can’t call the police.”

“Why not? Did you talk to him?”

My hand strayed back to the piece of paper in my pocket. “He left a note. I … I don’t understand …” I broke down again, falling to the ground in a heap. My cries came out in wheezing gasps - the kind of tearing sob where you can’t catch your breath.

Faintly I heard Bethany’s voice come through the sounds of my cries, “Delilah, stay there, ok? I’m coming over. I’m going to pick you up and bring you here. I’ll wake up my dad and we will come right over.”

“No!” I cried. “Not your parents. Please don’t tell your parents … not yet.”

“But why? Delilah …”

“Please Bethany, just don’t tell them.”

“Ok, ok. Fine. I can sneak out. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh,” I said, a thought working its way through my tears. “I’m not at home … I don’t … I don’t really know where I am.”

“Oh my god, Delilah! Where are you? Look around, what do you see?”

I strained my eyes, trying to peer through the shadows. For the first time that night I paid attention to what was around me and tried to figure out where I was. I was sitting in grass beside a curving sidewalk. Every one hundred feet or so a lamp post illuminated a small section of the sidewalk. Scattered around the gentle slopes on either side were large trees.

“I think I’m at the park,” I said flatly.

“The park? Leighton Park?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so. I think I see the lake over there.”

“Delilah! You’re in the park? ALone? In the middle of the night?”

I glanced at the clock on my phone and winced. It was much later than I thought. I must have been out wandering for hours. “Yeah,” was all I could think to say.

There was real fear in her words when she said, “Ok, I’m coming to get you. I’ll meet you in the parking lot over by where that guy comes with his ice cream cart.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Delilah, be careful. I’m on my way now.”

I tried to choke out a “Thank you” but the words caught in my throat.

“I’m on the way,” Bethany repeated before the phone clicked off.

I pushed myself off the ground and tried to work out exactly where I was in the park and how to get to the right parking lot. The process helped me to focus on the immediate problem in front of me and distracted me from the tsunami of thoughts that had been threatening to drown me all night.

It wasn’t until I’d found the right direction and started walking that it really dawned on me exactly where I had wandered into. Leighton Park wasn’t necessarily the “bad” part of town or anything, but it wasn't uncommon to hear stories of bad things happening. And no one, especially no seventeen-year-old girls, felt safe walking in the park at night and alone.

I wrapped my arms around myself tight, as much for the sense of security as for protection from the cool evening air, and quickened my pace. I wasn’t sure if it would be safer moving down the walkway or standing and waiting in the parking lot. I just knew I wanted to be out there for as short of a time as possible. Fortunately, Bethany lived relatively close and should be there in just a few minutes.

I kept glancing around me, nervously checking every shadow for movement. Every rustle of leaves or swaying branch felt like the movement of some unseen horror tracking me. I’d never been out that late before, not at the park and certainly never by myself. My father would never allow it.

My father.

Where was he? Where could he have gone and why would he up and leave without telling me first? How could he have left me alone like this? What could have possibly happened to make him want to leave with nothing more than a note? Well, not only a note ...

A sound interrupted my thoughts. It took a moment for my scattered brain to identify what it was. It wasn’t one of the idle sounds of nature around me, and it wasn’t part of the ambient city life sounds always present in the background. There was a distinct noise that had caught my attention, something that my brain had recognized as being important even without me consciously noticing it.

Then I heard it again, from somewhere behind me. It was quiet and subtle, but distinct. The sound of a shoe scuffing the pavement. Someone else was on the path, walking behind me. I tried to focus my attention to see if I heard it again. Whoever it was had to be close enough that I heard their misstep, so I was sure they would have seen my silhouette against the dim light of the lamps.

I forced myself to not turn to see who was behind me. Something in the back of my mind told me showing a potential threat fear would be a huge mistake. I knew it was likely that it was probably nothing. It was probably just someone out for a late-night stroll, or walking home and taking a shortcut through the park. But when you are alone and in the dark everything is a threat.

I tried to quicken my pace without looking like I was quickening my pace. I hoped I could widen the distance between us. I wasn’t a great runner - I’ve never been known as being the athletic type - and I wanted as much of a head start as possible.

I rounded a bend and saw the lights to the parking lot a short way before me. I felt a surge of relief, quickly followed by a rush of dread realizing I would have to stay in one area while I waited. I told myself Bethany would show up at any moment and the parking lot had more light anyway, so it would be my safest option.

A twig snapped off to my right and I jerked my head only to catch a faint movement of a shadow dart behind a tree. My heart began to race and my feet quickly followed. I ran for the light of the parking lot in a blind panic, praying Bethany had beat me there. My foot caught on a raised piece of concrete and I stumbled, barely catching myself before face planting into the ground.

I scrambled on all fours for several steps, struggling to get my feet under me but desperate to keep moving.

Just then I was overwhelmed by the foulest smell I could have ever imagined. It was the sickly-sweet smell of death and rotten eggs like I’d fallen into a pile of skunk corpses. My stomach immediately twisted into knots and I fought to keep moving instead of curling into a ball and gagging.

“Stay down!” Commanded a voice behind me. The two words were dripping with anger and scorn. Something punched me in the back, directly between my shoulder blades, and I went hurling into the grass. My head bounced off the ground and lights flashed behind my eyes.

I tried to focus my thoughts. Tried to push myself up and face whoever - or whatever - was attacking me. But the world swam dark around me and I couldn’t make my arms and legs respond.

I heard running steps crashing the ground around me and several voices talking all at once. I couldn’t make out the words but I could hear the jeering in their voices.

A shape leaned down beside my head. The lights cast shadows over the figures' faces and I couldn’t make out any details. I could only see the white surrounding its huge eyes. It slowly reached a single hand toward my face, it’s pale, slender fingers seeming to shimmer in the faint light. The stench consumed me again and my eyes lost focus as my head spun.

I tried to escape the reach of those pale fingers, but even trying to move twisted my stomach into agony. The hand stopped just an inch from my face as if relishing the fear it caused before grabbing me.

Out of nowhere, something slammed into the figure sending it hurling off into the shadows. I heard it land several feet away from me and shriek in pain.

I heard a voice cry “Pushers!” Followed by a stampede of bodies rushing in all different directions. Immediately the foul smell disappeared and my twisted stomach began to unknot.

Another figure appeared inches from my face, “Did he touch you?”

“What …” I pushed myself onto my elbows and knees and tried to shake my head free of the cobwebs.

“Did he touch you?” The figure asked again. This time I noticed the voice was female, hard and cold, but definitely a woman.

“He hit me in the back, knocked me down, but I …”

“Your skin,” she interrupted. “Did he touch your skin?”

“No, he was ..”

The woman didn’t wait for me to finish. She just grunted and sprang to her feet, running off in the direction the voices had gone.

I heard rustling behind me and suddenly a hand was wrapped around my arm. I screamed and tried to jerk my arm away, but the grip was so tight all I did was wrench my shoulder.

Then someone was pulling me to my feet, “Easy there, little girl. You’re alright now.” There was a slightly mocking tone to the voice but it wasn’t altogether unkind. Once I’d gotten to my feet the newest figure let go of my arm.

I squinted in the darkness, trying to catch any details of the face before me. I had to crane my neck back to even see his face. I’m not a dainty little flower, but whoever this man was, he was at least a whole head taller than me. In the shadows, even standing, I couldn’t make out any details. But then the man smiled and flashed the whitest, straightest teeth I’d ever seen. Even with the shadows covering his face I could see his smile curl up into a smirk.

“See there? You’re ok.” He said. He turned and took a few steps in the same directions as the others but stopped and turned his head back to me. He flashed the same white smile and said, “You know it’s not safe out here in the dark for little girls. You should head on home now.”

I don’t know why the words stung me as much as they did. After all, it was the least traumatizing thing that had happened to me that night. But I’ve never been able to stand condescension, even if it was someone that had just saved my life - if that was what had just happened.

The words struck something in me and my temper flared, “I’m not a little …”

But the man was gone. He’d turned and started to run even as he finished talking. And shouting after him somehow felt like something a little kid would do, so I bit my tongue.

Suddenly, I was alone again. All the chaos had happened within only a span of a few minutes and now I was alone in the dark, with nothing to show for it but a couple of bruises and some grass stains. If my back didn’t still hurt from where someone had knocked me to the ground, I probably would have started questioning if it had really happened.

My body began to shake uncontrollably and my knees wanted to buckle. My body had produced so much extra adrenaline to prepare for my fight or flight defense - which obviously skewed heavily toward flight - and all the excess was having a field day at the moment.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to lay down in the grass and wail and scream. All the emotions of the night - all the confusion, the fear, the loneliness, the hurt, the terror - came flooding back and I felt like I could collapse under the weight. But I’d cried for so long already, I wasn’t sure there was enough water inside me to actually produce tears. And for some reason, the words of the tall man with the beautiful white smile kept running around in my brain.

“It’s not safe out here in the dark for little girls,” I said to myself in an exaggerated imitation of his voice. It was childish and petty, but it allowed me to be angry for a few minutes. And anger is always easier to manage than soul-crushing desperation.

I focused my thoughts on that anger and dedicated myself to showing whoever, or whatever, that I wasn’t just a scared child. I brushed the grass off my knees and walked into the light of the parking lot. Just as I reached the light, Bethany’s car pulled up. Her tires squealed when she slammed to a stop in front of me.

Jumping out of the car she cried, “Delilah!” and threw her arms around me.