Twenty eight
Vague.
I have very vague memories of when I was a child, but I remember being dragged forcefully by a woman in her mid thirties as sirens rang behind us. Her grip on my arm was so strong that it left a mark. I remember her dragging me along as she ran with her son, 2 years younger than me, in her arm, he was clinging to her neck, his eyes staring at me, unblinking while I stumbled to catch up.
***
"Why did we run away? What about grandma?" I was too young to understand anything. Why did this woman, Lizzie, daughter of grandma drag me with her and her son but left grandma there? Grandma wasn't my real relative but she cared for me like one.
"We had no other choice. Your grandma will no longer be able to help you."
"But I want grandma..." I sniffled. I didn't like Lizzie, I wanted grandma. Grandma was kind. Tears started dwelling in my eyes and I was about to cry when something hard landed against my cheek.