A tiny white dot pierced the night’s darkness. This dot seemed to be coming towards me. Frozen in place by the fearful curiosity running through me, I had momentarily forgotten the reason I was outside so late anyway. My little brother—approximately only two or three years old at the time—had wandered off after being left in the apartment by himself. The main problem with this situation was that my siblings and I lived in the projects at the time—a neighborhood that has often reached forty-seven 911 calls per week. Even in the bitter cold, my toddler brother was clothed in only a diaper and a tuft of bright red hair, making him an adorable target for a kidnapping criminal.
It started out as any other night. Our mom was a single mother who was off to work at the bar every morning, seldom coming home. My older brother never liked to be stuck at home with his three younger siblings, so he left shortly after our mother headed to work. Hours passed. My older sister, Ciara, grew restless from boredom and loneliness. I began to wonder what had become of my older brother, and why he had been gone for so long. Assuming my adventure outside would be short, I abandoned my coat and darted outside in search for Danny, leaving my little brother alone in the apartment with Ciara. After all, I reasoned, they would be fine, as Danny was most likely playing video games at our good friend Gary’s house. As I reached Gary’s I was sucked in to the warmth and video games and soon forgot all about my other siblings waiting anxiously back home.
Panic set in when Ciara came shivering through Gary’s door.

“You left Morgan alone?” I exaggerated the word alone in my surprise. Ciara just meekly dropped her gaze and walked past me. I gawked at her in disbelief, but quickly ran out the door to make sure my little brother was safe. The chill had me shivering, and the frost on the ground nipped at my bare toes. I burst in the door of our apartment, shouting and making such a ruckus as I called for Morgan, I was sure I had woken up the next apartment.

“Morgan?!” No answer. Pillows soared and blankets flew to and fro as I tore through the apartment searching for him. Not here; not there. He was nowhere inside the apartment. I paused a moment, my throat seeming to close up as I thought of all the horrible things that could happen to a toddler in this dangerous neighborhood. I rushed out the door and frantically scanned the yard, the street, the hill, the field, anywhere!

“Morgan?!” I gushed as tears stung my eyes. That’s when I saw the pale white dot in the distance. A flashlight. In this part of town, being seen was something to be avoided. I considered bolting for my life, but stopped short when I remembered my baby brother was somewhere out there in harm’s way. The light rested directly on me. It stayed on me and drew closer with each step it’s carrier took. Frozen to my place, I crouched lower, but the beam just moved with me. I strained my eyes to make out the figure holding the flashlight, trying to identify if this person was a friend or dangerous. Then I saw that the figure’s other hand was also holding something—the much smaller hand of a near-naked, snot-nosed toddler. Relief flooded over me as I saw the golden glint of the policeman’s badge.

“Yes sir, he was on McSpadden Road,” the officer called into his radio after we had gathered up Danny and Ciara and retreated to our apartment. A raspy sound on the other line signaled a response, but I couldn't make out what the other person was saying. Fatigue hit me as I slumped back into our old sofa. I allowed myself to doze off in peace knowing that my siblings and I were safe with this man who wouldn't leave until he was sure we were in capable hands. I fell asleep feeling... safe.