These Bikers Kidnapped My Twins And I Begged Them Not To Bring Them Back

These bikers kidnapped my twins and I begged them not to bring them back. I know how that sounds. I know what you’re thinking.

But let me explain what happened that day at the grocery store parking lot, and why I’m writing this with tears streaming down my face.

My name is Sarah. I’m a single mom to three-year-old twins, Anna and Ethan. Their father left when they were six months old. Said he couldn’t handle the responsibility. I haven’t heard from him since.

I work two jobs. Morning shift at a medical office. Night shift cleaning offices downtown. My mom watches the kids during the day. I watch them at night. We’re barely surviving but we’re surviving.

That Tuesday started like any other. I had exactly $47 in my checking account and it was five days until payday. I needed diapers, milk, and bread. That’s it. I had a calculator on my phone adding up prices as I shopped.

The twins were tired and cranky. Anna was crying because I wouldn’t buy the cookies she wanted. Ethan was throwing his stuffed dog on the floor over and over. I was exhausted. I’d worked until 3 AM the night before and been up with the kids at 6 AM.

I got to the register. The total was $52. I’d miscalculated. My face went hot. There were people behind me in line. The cashier was waiting. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I need to put something back.”

I started going through the bags, trying to decide what we could live without. The bread maybe. We had half a loaf at home. But the diapers were almost out. The milk was gone. Anna was still crying. Ethan threw his dog again.

“Ma’am, there’s a line,” someone behind me said. My hands were shaking. I was about to cry. I grabbed the bread. “I’ll put this back.”

Then I heard a voice. Deep. Rough. “The bread stays. I got it.” I turned around and there he was. Six foot four. Covered in tattoos. Full beard down to his chest. Leather vest with patches. The kind of man who makes you grab your kids closer.

He was holding out a fifty-dollar bill to the cashier. “Her total and mine together. Keep the change.” I started to protest. “No, I can’t let you—”

“Already done,” he said. He wasn’t smiling. His face was hard. Serious. The cashier took the money. Bagged my groceries. Bagged his. He grabbed both sets of bags.

“I’ll help you to your car,” he said. It wasn’t a question. I should have been scared. I should have said no. But Anna had stopped crying. She was staring at him with big eyes. Ethan had stopped throwing his dog.

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