Two men in business suits climbed silently out of their car, and strode up the driveway to a suburban one-story house. They quietly started surveying it. Several toys were scattered along a freshly mowed lawn, surrounded by a picket fence.
Inside, Donna Ricco hummed cheerfully to herself as she started pulling out various items from the cupboards.
"Mommy, what'cha doing?" her daughter, Tamara, asked, as she bounded in the room.
"Hey honey. I'm gonna bake some cookies, now. You wanna help me?"
"Chocolate chip?" Tamara asked eagerly, already climbing up the kitchen stool.
"What else?" Her mother poured the ingredients into the mixing bowl, and let Tamara stir the contents together.
"You ready?" the bald man asked his colleague, his eyes hiding behind a pair of sunglasses.
"My sister and I never did get along. It won't be a problem."
They went up to the doorstop, and the bald man knocked on the door.
"Oh that must be Anne," Donna exclaimed. "She promised to bring some more chocolate chips." She winked at her daughter. "Stay here, I'll be back."
She forgot her usual practice of checking out the window, and when she opened the door and saw the men, her expression turned to terror.
"Hello, Donna. It's time."
"What are you doing here?"
"You know why." Donna gulped; her palms sweated, her heart raced.
"No!" she shouted, shaking her head. "You aren't taking Tamara away from me!"
"You have no choice, Donna. You knew this day would come."
"Please! She's only seven. She's just a little girl."
"That doesn't matter," they said. "We need her, and we shall have her."
"Just one more year, please. Just one more year!"
"Don't resist, Donna. You're only making this harder on yourself. Now, move out of the way."
"No. I'll die first!"
"Mommy!" Donna turned her head as her daughter entered the living room.
"No! Run, Tamara, run!"
The little girl, seeing her mother's fear, darted towards the back door of the house. As she ran she heard a thud and then she felt a painful jerk backwards, bringing her to a quick halt. One of the men held her arm tightly.
Immediately the girl began pounding on the man with her other fist, shouting, "Let me go! Let me go!" But the man refused. He grabbed on to her other arm and forced the girl to look into his face.
"You, Tamara, may be young, but we have huge plans for you."
"No! Go away! Go away! Mommy! Mommy!" But Donna didn't reply, lying unresponsive on the floor. Tamara tried to reach for her, but she couldn't break the man's hold on her.
"Your mother is dead, Tamara. You belong to us now."
"No! I want my mommy!" The man slapped her in the face, startling her into silence.
"You will not utter a word unless spoken to. And you will cease your crying this instant." The child obeyed, having become quite afraid. "That's more like it. Now, you will come with us without fuss, or else we'll be forced to punish you. Do you understand?" Tamara nodded. "Good. Let's go."
The men took the girl outside to the backseat of their car, and locked her inside. Then they got in themselves and drove away. Tamara stared out the back of the car, watching her home as it grew smaller and smaller.
"Turn around and put your seatbelt on!" one of the men ordered, and reluctantly Tamara obeyed. "You won't ever be returning to that house again. You belong to us now. Don't ever forget that. You belong to us... and always will."
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