The Innocent Prisoner

“Vroom! Vroom!” I pretended to cruise down the road in my imaginary car as I sat in an old wooden chair turned upside down.
“Ma’am you need to pull over,” hollered my big brother.
He walked over to me nonchalantly and waved his red wallet in my face, saying, “You’re under arrest.” His wallet had a police badge drawn inside with black marker and written inside it was, “Plece yer under a rest.” He then took me to the invisible jail cell that was at the bottom of our brown tiled staircase. My older sister had a mischievous grin on her face as she neared me with a long ivory rope in her hands...
I was six years old when my older brother and sister interrupted me during an intriguing episode of Sesame Street. My twelve year old brother and nine year old sister were in charge of me while my parents were at work. They screamed my name eagerly, longing for me to play cops and robbers with them. I hesitantly agreed and halfheartedly moped down the stairs, clutching my Minnie mouse stuffed animal in my chubby little hand.
“Meggie, you’re the bad guy and we’re the police!” they ordered excitedly. So I scuttled over to my make-believe car and sat down, pretending to buckle my seat belt. I brushed my tangled, chocolate brown hair out of my face and started the car. Then I began to drive down the road as I imitated car sounds. This game was much better than watching a rerun of Sesame Street. The delight of being included in my brother and sister’s imaginary games brought a childish grin to my face.
…My sister then tied my hands to the banister of the stairwell. I was beginning to realize how unfair this game was as my sister continued to tie knots, making sure that my hands were securely fastened to the railing. The delighted smile on my face began to fade into a frown as I came to the realization that my brother and sister didn’t want me to play with them, they just wanted to tie me up to the stairwell. My brother then tied a rope around my ankle and placed it on a hook on the ceiling, leaving my leg sticking straight up. Then my sister took a piece of duct tape and placed it on my mouth that was stained with the red lollypop I had eaten earlier. My brown eyes begin to well up as I puckered my eyebrows. My muffled screams were ignored as the tears rolled down my face.
All of a sudden I heard the front door open. My dad was finally home to rescue me. I glanced at the terrified look in my brother and sister’s wide-eyed faces. Suddenly they darted out the back door and hid behind the shed. I began to make as much noise as I could so that my Dad would find me and untie me. I heard footsteps. He was coming closer. Then I heard a deep, concerned voice, “What happened to you, Meggie Mo?” He gently removed the duct tape from my mouth and I cried hysterically,
“Aaron and Kristin tied me up.” I sniffled and tried to catch my breath as my rescuer untied me. “They ran outside.” I tattled, just like I always did after they picked on me. He stroked my hair and said,
“You’re gonna be okay.” Then he walked outside, sternly yelling,
“Kristin! Aaron! Get over here!” I grinned, pleased to know that they would be punished for the five minutes of torture they had put me through.