My dad and I hear the piercing sound of the little boy's scream as it travels through our walls and pours into our ears. My dad gives me the signal. I know what to do.

I go to the kitchen with cracked walls with an old beige paint job. I pick up one of the stained yellow tiles and climb into the hole in our floor. On the ground there's a long rusty, steel rod with a hook at the end. I pick up the rod and hook onto the handle that is at the bottom of the tile I removed. I pull it back in place and unhook it. This is a secret room my dad discovered when he was younger. It's a basement that goes directly under both that little boy next doors house and mine.

The room is pitch black now but I know there's a flashlight somewhere. The room is as long as the width of both my house and the house next door. It's pretty narrow. I go to the end of the one side of the room and try to cover every area of the ground with my feet, trying to find it.

My tiny feet feel something and I crouch down and pick it up. It's the flashlight. I run my hands across it until I find the switch. As I turn it on I hear a muffled crying sound. I realize I am under the house next door now.

At 4 years old, my curiosity took over my logic and fear. I took the flashlight and slowly walked across the cracked light grey floor and grabbed the steel hook. I run back to where I hear the crying sound and realized, there was another handle under a tile. As to see what was going on, I took the hook and grabbed the handle and slowly lifted the tile up to see who was crying. The next thing I knew I heard quiet footsteps coming toward the tile.

I hit the floor. Pulled the hood from my black sweater over my head. Even at such a young age I knew it was dangerous for anybody to see what I was.

I heard someone pull up the tile and light shined down on me.

"Hello?" A high pitched voice called nervously.

It was the little boy.

I got up slowly looked up at young face of a boy with sapphire coloured eyes, dark brown hair, and olive skin. His eyes were puffy and red. He was older than me, but not by much. He looked about 6 years old.

"It's okay" he called to me softly."I won't hurt you."

He looked terrified and was obviously in some kind of danger.

"Come down here." I called.

The little boy dropped down. His black sneakers with white laces made a loud stomping sound. I cringed.

"Do you think someone heard that?" The boy asked.

"I don't know but come back here, move your feet slowly and softly and lay down on your stomach. Do not make a sound." I said sternly.

"Okay." He said.

"TRISTAN YOU LITTLE BRAT WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE. YOU CAN'T HIDE!"

I grab the hook as quickly as I can and grab on to the handle and quickly attempt to put it back into place. I heard banging and I knew that they were going to get past the fact that he locked the door.

As I unhook the handle with tile back in place I go quickly to lay down beside this boy who was apparently named Tristan as I hear the door fall on the floor. I turn the flashlight off and we both stay still and silent.

"IT ONLY LOCKS FROM THE INSIDE HE HAS TO BE HERE!"

"I SWEAR WHEN WE FIND THAT LITTLE SHIT-"

"THAT KID IS WORTH A BILLION DOLLARS. IF WE LOST HIM I'M GOING TO FUCKING THROW SOMEONE"

"Guys! This window here is open!"

I hear the loud footsteps as on of the men's boot steps on the tile. That tile has another thick layer made of plaster added to it so it won't break, but we still hold our breaths and don't dare make a sound.

"He must've escaped through that window!"

"WHAT ARE YOU MORONS WAITING FOR? SEARCH FOR HIM!"

I hear the loud stomps of the men's boots as they exit whatever room I found Tristan in. Why do the want him? Why is he "worth a billion dollars"?

Tristan starts to get up but I hold him down.

"They might come back. Stay still and don't talk." I say.

We hear the men come through the door again, their voices arguing with someone who I didn't hear talk before.

"The kid must've escaped from the bathroom window. Sorry dude, no kid, no pay."

"WAIT!"

"He's gone! You lost him! No deal"

"WAIT! I have some one else you might be interested in!"

"We're listening."

"The man next door has a daughter."

Fear fills my body. Me I think to myself. He means me.

"He's bluffing."

"I most certainly am not"

"Like, a daughter, an actual female child?"

"Yes. I've seen her. I think she's about 4 or 5 years old."

"Are you sure it was an actual girl?"

"Positive."

"Alright. If we can get the girl, the deals back on, and we'll double the pay."

I become nauseous as I hear them walk out of Tristan's house and towards mine. What if they hurt my dad? But at least now that they're at my house, Tristan and I can whisper and move quietly.

"So, you're name's Tristan?" I say.

He nods.

"What's yours?"

"Chris."

"How old are you Chris?"

"Four" I say as I hold up 4 fingers.

"I'm 6 years old and am in the grade 1. You probably are in preschool, aren't you?

"I don't go to school. My daddy teaches me stuff at home."

I can hear muffled voices coming from my house.

"Hand her over."

"Why are you saying her? I have one son." My dad says.

"How are we suppose to believe you?"

"Take a look."

I cringe as I listen to the sounds of the men's feet make the roof shake a little. Tristan looks traumatized. He starts to whimper quietly as tears roll down his cheeks.

"Tristan?" I whisper

"What?"

"Why did those men come to your house?"

"Umm, my daddy called him. He has trouble with money, so he thought selling me was the best thing."

I try not to cry at that last comment. How could some one do that? My dad and I are a team and if he did that- Just the thought was horrible.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared. What happens if those men come back? I can't go back home. I don't think my dad is my dad anymore."

"Well I bet my daddy would let you stay at home with us next door. "

Tristan starts to look at me weirdly. I don't get it at first until what I just said finally sinks into my childish brain.

"Y-you're-" He stutters.

I start freaking out. What if he tries to give me up? I start crying a little and hyperventilating.

"So that means you have the tracker. They want you too?" He says

"Please don't tell anyone! If people found out I was a girl it would get really scary and dangerous for me and my daddy." I whimper.

"Can I see yours?" He says.

Tristan pulls my hood down, revealing my long, strawberry blonde hair. I look up at him with my big emerald eyes. He pulls the sleeve of my right side down, revealing where they put my tracker. It looks like a small blue dot. He then pulls down the sleeve of his shirt to show me his.

"I don't get why they would want you? The world is full of men! I have never met another girl before. Daddy says I'm one of the last left."
"Well, my old daddy told me one day they think I might be able to make girls."

Although I was four and didn't understand what this meant at the time. An instinct told me that he was one of the only people who understood me. I hugged him and didn't let go as we both started to cry.

"If you're a girl, is your real name Chris? Or is Chris just your boy name?"

"It's my boys name."

"What's your real name?"

"C-Christine" I stutter.

"Nice to meet you Christine. I'm your new brother, Tristan."

"CHRISSY IT'S OKAY TO COME UP. THEY'RE GONE." My dad yells.

I make my way over to the tile on my side. He lifts it up and looks down on me.

"Who's this, Christine you can't talk to strangers!"

"Daddy, his dad tried to sell him, and me! This is Tristan! He has the tracker too. He says it's because they think he can make girls one day! Can he be my brother, pleeeeaaasse?"

Although I didn't understand why Tristan was wanted, my dad did. He bit his lip and pulled both me and Tristan up.

"Hi Tristan." my dad said softly. "Welcome home."