Emily and I were in the basement for a long time, not talking. Suddenly, I heard police sirens coming closer. I gasped. "Emily, I think they found us!"
When the sirens were really close, I could tell the police cars had stopped because they didn't get quieter. I could sort of hear them talking through the door, and I strained my ear to listen.
"Sir, where are your children?" a male voice asked.
My heart sank when I heard my father respond, "They aren't here right now, they went out to get ice cream."
"Now they will never find us," I cried.
But Emily shook her head. "If you can stand on my shoulders, you can see out the window."
There was a small window at the top of the wall. We quickly walked over, and I climbed onto Emily's shoulders, hoping she could hold my weight. We were wobbling a bit, but I grabbed onto the window and banged on it, screaming for help.
Unfortunately, the window looked out into the backyard, and the police were at the front door. I screamed as loud as I could, but I knew they wouldn't hear it.
Emily had an idea, though. "If you can break the window they will be able to hear you," she said.
I began hitting the window as hard as I could. My burnt hand was hurting terribly, but I tried not to think about it and concentrated on breaking the window. After several tries, I was able to punch through the window, getting glass shards stuck in the hand that wasn't burnt. I did not have time to think about that, though.
"Help! Help!" I screamed, over and over. Finally, a police officer took notice and rushed over to us. "Please help us, we're locked in the basement," I said.
They got us out, and I was taken to the hospital for my hands. Our parents were taken away in the back of a police car. Everything was going to be alright.
We were asked tons of questions. We told them the whole story and what they did to us. Our parents were arrested and sent to prison for a long time.
After a few weeks, we were put into a foster home. We went through a couple of them until finally, there was a family who wanted to keep us. After a year, we were officially adopted.
Our scars and bruises slowly healed, both the ones you could see and the ones inside. We were living in a different town, but I visited Mom in jail almost every week. She hasn't been released yet, but it won't be long now.
Well, that is how it all happened. It was crazy, but I can't say I would change it if I could. After all, if we had moved that day, Emily would still be stuck with our horrible parents. So I guess it was good, because we are together living with our new, loving family.