Ran Away at Five, the Whole Internet Stood by Me

At five, I ran away. My stepmother said, Your mother is dead. This house doesn't want you. My stepsister tossed my toys, calling me a stray. My dad? In a meeting, phone off.

I packed my bag with my eight dollars and started a livestream, as Mom taught me. Hi, I'm Molly Geller, five. My mommy's dead, my daddy doesn't want me. I'm running away. Can you talk to me?

Viewers jumped from zero to a hundred thousand. Comments exploded: "Whose child is this?!" "Call the police!" "Wait, isn't that Riverside Estates behind her? A Geller Corp project? And her last name is Geller?!"

That night, the whole internet searched for Molly Geller. My father faced a press mob: "Is it true your daughter ran away?" "Your new wife is seen abusing her online, any comment?" "Your daughter says you abandoned her. What do you say?"

I saw his face thenpale as paper.

1. I Decided to Run Away

My name is Molly Geller, and I'm five years old.

Mommy gave me my name. Molly, like a little sprout, shed say. She hoped I would be tenacious like a blade of grass, able to grow anywhere.

But now, Mommy is dead.

Three months ago, a big truck took her away.

And just like that, I went from being my mommy's daughter to the Geller family's "stray."

The Geller house is huge. It has a garden, a swimming pool, and so, so many rooms. Mine is the smallest one, at the very end of the hall. The window looks out onto a brick wall, so I have to keep the light on even during the day.

My stepmother calls it the "guest room."

But I've been a guest for three months.

The real daughter, Sophie, is eight, three years older than me. Her room is across the hall. Her window overlooks the garden, where the sun is so bright it could give you a tan.

Every day, she tells me the same thing: "This is my house. You're just a stray. What gives you the right to live here?"

I never know how to answer.

Because she's right. This isn't my home.

My home used to be a tiny forty-square-foot apartment. But Mommy always made my little bed so soft, and shed leave a piece of candy on my pillow. Shed kiss my forehead and whisper, "Goodnight, my love."

That little bed is gone now. Sold for forty dollars.

Stepmother said it brought bad luck.

Today is my birthday.

My fifth birthday.

When I woke up, I tied my hair in pigtails in front of the mirror. Mommy taught me howtwo little sprouts, one on each side. Super cute.

I didn't do a very good job. One is higher than the other. But it doesn't matter. I can't see them anyway.

Pigtails tied, I put on my little backpack.

Its pink with a little white bunny on it, a gift from Mommy. Inside, I have the eight dollars I've saved for three months, a picture of my mom, and a piece of candythe last one she ever gave me. I haven't been able to bring myself to eat it.

I opened my door and went downstairs.

At the top of the stairs, I heard my stepmother on the phone.

"Yes, the party tonight is all arranged. Sophie will wear that little Chanel princess dress... That stray? Don't worry about her. Just make sure she stays in her room. We can't have her embarrassing us."

I waited on the landing until she hung up, then continued down.

Stepmother frowned when she saw me. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out to play," I said.

"Play? The house is busy today. Don't go running around." She waved her hand dismissively, like she was shooing a fly. "Go back to your room."

I didn't move.

"Ma'am," I said, looking up at her. "Today is my birthday."

Stepmother paused for a second, then laughed. It was the same smile she always wore for guests, but since we were alone, it looked different. Wrong.

"Your birthday?" She looked me up and down. "What birthday? Your mother's dead. Who's going to celebrate with you?"

"I'll celebrate by myself," I said.

This time, she laughed even louder. "Fine, you do that. Now get out of here. You're in the way."

I started for the front door. Halfway there, a voice called from upstairs.

"Hey, stray!"

I looked up. It was Sophie, still in her pajamas, her hair a mess.

"What's that in your hand?"

I clutched my backpack tighter. "It's my backpack."

"Let me see it."

I stayed put.

She stormed down the stairs, grabbed the strap of my bag, and yanked. She was bigger than me, and the backpack was ripped from my hands.

She unzipped it and dumped everything onto the floor.

Eight dollars in coins scattered everywhere. My mommy's picture landed face down. And the candy rolled under the sofa.

"Is that all?" Sophie sneered. "Pathetic."

She picked up the photo. "Who's this? Your mom? She's ugly."

"Give it back," I said.

She ignored me, holding the photo high above her head. "Come and get it. If you can reach it, it's yours."

I jumped, but I couldn't reach. I jumped again. Still too short.

At eight years old, she was a whole head taller than me.

"Can't get it, can you? Haha!" She laughed and ran outside. "Catch me if you can!"

I chased her out, through the yard, into the garden, all the way to the edge of the swimming pool.

She stood there, dangling the photo of my mom.

"Call me 'big sister.' Say it, and I'll give it back."

I didn't say anything.

"You won't, huh?" Her hand opened.

The photograph fluttered down, landed on the water's surface, and slowly began to sink.

I froze.

It was the only picture I had of my mommy. She hated having her picture taken. This was from my third birthday, at the park.

In the photo, Mommy was smiling so happily, holding me, making a peace sign for the camera.

Now it was at the bottom of the pool, the image blurring.

"You give me back my mommy!" I screamed, shoving her with all my might.

Sophie lost her balance and fell backward onto the ground. She stared at me for a second, then burst into tears.

Stepmother rushed out of the house. "What happened?! What's wrong?!"

Sophie pointed at me. "She pushed me! She tried to drown me!"

Stepmother's face turned black with rage. She lunged forward, grabbed me by the collar, and lifted me off the ground like a kitten.

"What do you think you're doing?! You dare touch my daughter?!"

I dangled from her grip, my feet kicking in the air, struggling to breathe. "My mom... my mom's picture... she threw it in..."

"I don't care about some stupid picture!" she shrieked, throwing me to the ground. "You listen to me. Your mother is dead, and this house doesn't welcome you! If you want to stay, you behave. If not, then get out!"

I landed hard on the stone patio. Pain shot through my knee, and tears welled in my eyes.

But I didn't cry.

Mommy said crying doesn't help. You have to be strong.

I pushed myself up, brushed the dirt off my clothes, and walked to the edge of the pool. I stared at the photo, a faint shape at the bottom.

The water was too deep. I couldn't reach it.

Sophie was still wailing. Stepmother was hugging her, cooing and cursing at me.

I stood there for a moment, then turned and went back inside. I picked up my coins, one by one, and put my empty backpack on.

Then I walked out the front door.

No one stopped me.

At the gate, I glanced back.

Stepmother was still comforting Sophie. She hadn't even looked my way.

The gate was huge and ornate, black iron with gold filigree.

I pushed it open and stepped through.

A long road stretched out before me, lined with villas even bigger than ours.

I didn't know which way to go.

But Mommy always said, just keep walking forward. You'll always find a path.

2. I Started a Live Stream

After about ten minutes, my legs got tired.

I sat down on a small planter by the side of the road, hugging my backpack. The sun was warm on my skin. A little cat was napping nearby, its eyes squeezed shut, looking perfectly content.

I remembered what my mom taught me.

"Molly, if you ever get lost, or if you run into a bad person, you open this."

She had pointed to an icon on my phone.

"It's called a live stream. You press it, and people will be able to see you. You have to tell them who you are, where you are, and what's wrong. People will help you."

That's what she said.

I took out my little phonethe one she left me. It was old, with a crack across the screen, but it still worked.

I tapped the icon.

My face appeared on the screen, pigtails and all, one high, one low.

I looked into the camera and said:

"Hi, Misters and Misses. My name is Molly Geller, and I'm five years old. My mommy is dead, and my daddy doesn't want me anymore. I'm going to be a runaway now. Can you talk to me so I'm not lonely?"

In the corner of the screen, the number of viewers changed from 0 to 1.

Someone was here.

A comment floated across the screen:

???

Another viewer joined.

Whose kid is this? Why is she all alone on the street?

And another.

Little girl, where are your parents?

I read the comments and answered them one by one.

"I don't have parents anymore. My mommy's dead, and my daddy... my daddy doesn't want me."

"I'm at... I don't know where this is. There are lots of big houses."

"I have my backpack, with eight dollars inside. I'm going to be a runaway."

More and more comments started to appear.

OMG this poor baby!

Someone call the police! Can anyone get a location?!

Wait a second, that villa behind her isnt that the Riverside Estates?

The Riverside Estates? Isn't that a Geller Corporation development?

Geller Corp? As in, Richard Geller's company?

What did she say her name was? Molly... Geller? Her last name is Geller?!

I looked down at the screen. I didn't know a lot of the words. But I knew they were talking about me.

"Geller Corporation is my daddy's company," I said. "My daddy's name is Richard Geller."

The chat exploded.

?????

Richard Geller?! The real estate tycoon?!

Wait wait wait, doesn't Richard Geller only have one daughter? The one who was in that magazine, Sophie something?

That's his stepdaughter! Is this one his biological kid?

That can't be right, Richard Geller's first wife died, right? I remember seeing it in the news...

Is this kid telling the truth?

I was a little confused. The comments were moving too fast for me to read.

But I saw one:

Sweetie, what's your dad's phone number? I can try calling him for you.

I thought for a moment and recited a string of numbers.

I had memorized it. Mommy taught me to call it if I was ever in trouble.

But every time I called, it just said, "The number you have dialed is currently busy."

It never went through.

A comment appeared: I called it! It's ringing! No answer!

Another one: Keep calling! Don't stop!

I watched the number of viewers on my screen climb.

17 people.

35 people.

82 people.

196 people.

It just kept growing.

A man in the chat said: Little one, don't move. I'm calling the police for you. An officer will be there soon.

"Okay," I said. "Thank you, Mister."

A woman wrote: Molly, are you hungry? Are you thirsty?

I touched my tummy. "I'm hungry."

I hadn't eaten anything all day.

There's a convenience store! Do you see it? With the blue sign!

I stood up and looked. There it was, a little store with a bright blue sign shining in the sun.

"I see it."

Go there! I'm ordering you a delivery! Just wait!

I didn't know what a "delivery" was, but I did as she said and walked toward the store.

A kind-looking woman was standing behind the counter. She looked surprised to see me. "Are you all by yourself, sweetie?"

I nodded.

"Where are your parents?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't have any."

Her expression softened, and she didn't say anything else.

I sat down on a little bench outside the store and waited for the "delivery."

The stream was still running.

The comments kept flying by.

I just followed her! This is heartbreaking!

Took a screenshot! Posting to social media! Get more eyes on this!

People are already spamming the Geller Corp official accounts! Go upvote!

I didn't understand most of it, but I knew they were trying to help me.

The delivery really came.

A young man in a yellow uniform pulled up on an electric scooter, holding a bag.

"Who's Molly Geller?"

I stood up. "That's me."

The man handed me the bag, his brow furrowed. "Are you all by yourself, kid?"

"Mhm."

He knelt down and lowered his voice. "Did someone hurt you?"

I didn't know how to answer that.

The chat went wild.

Way to go, delivery guy! Get the details!

Ask her where she is!

Look at her eyes! Her expression! Something definitely happened to her!

The delivery man glanced at my phone and saw the comments scrolling by. He blinked. "Are you live streaming?"

I nodded.

His expression grew more and more serious as he read the chat. "Okay, kid. You stay right here. I'll wait with you for the police."

I nodded.

The bag smelled so good. Inside was a hamburger and a can of Coke.

I sat on the bench outside the convenience store, taking small bites.

Someone in the chat commented: Look at the way she's eating. She was starving.

Another wrote: My heart is breaking for this little girl.

And another: Richard Geller is human garbage! I'm going to his social media page right now to tear him a new one!

The delivery man was squatting next to me, watching the stream on his own phone.

After a moment, he looked up. "Kid," he said. "You're famous."

3. The Whole Internet Was Looking for Me

I didn't know what "famous" meant.

But I knew that more and more people were showing up outside the convenience store.

First, it was a woman, filming me with her phone.

Then, a group of teenagers, pointing and whispering from a distance.

And then, a white car with red and blue flashing lights pulled up.

The police were here.

A tall, thin police officer walked over and knelt in front of me. "Are you Molly Geller, little one?"

I nodded.

"Did you come out here all by yourself?"

I nodded again.

He looked around, then glanced at my phone. "Can I see your phone for a second, sweetie?"

I handed it to him.

He looked at the comments scrolling across the screen, and his expression changed. "Okay, little one. How about you come back to the station with me? It's too hot out here."

"Do you have food at the station?" I asked.

He paused for a second, then smiled. "Yes. We have food."

I stood up, dusted off my shorts, and followed him to the police car.

The delivery man in the yellow uniform ran over and pressed a slip of paper into my hand. "Here's my number, kid. Call me if you need anything."

I took the paper and said thank you.

As the police car pulled away, I looked out the window. A huge crowd was standing outside the convenience store, all of them holding up their phones, filming me.

The kind woman from inside the store was standing in the doorway, wiping her eyes.

"Why is that lady crying?" I asked the police officer.

He was quiet for a moment. "Because she feels bad for you."

"I don't need anyone to feel bad for me," I said. "I just need my mommy's picture."

And then I remembered.

My mommy's picture was still in the swimming pool.

"Mister," I said, tugging on his sleeve. "Can you take me to get my mommy's picture?"

"What picture?" he asked.

"My mommy's picture. My sister threw it in the swimming pool."

He froze. He exchanged a look with the officer who was driving. Then he took out his phone, looked at something, and his face became very complicated.

"Sweetie, does your dad... does he know you're out here?"

"No," I said. "He never answers my calls."

He fell silent again.

We drove for a little while and stopped in front of a small building with a sign that said "Police."

I followed the officer inside.

It was full of people.

Some were in uniform, some were in regular clothes, and some were holding big cameras.

The moment I walked in, everyone turned to look at me.

A woman officer rushed over and knelt in front of me, taking my hand. "You must be Molly. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold?"

I shook my head. "I just had a hamburger."

She paused, then shot a glare at the people with the cameras. "Who let you in here? Get out! Don't scare the child!"

The men with the cameras backed out of the room.

The officer led me into a small office, sat me on a sofa, and brought me a glass of water and a box of cookies.

"Molly, can I ask you a few questions?"

I nodded.

"What's your name and how old are you?"

"Molly Geller. Five."

"What's your mother's name?"

"Lily Reed."

The officer wrote in her notebook. "And your father?"

"Richard Geller."

Her hand paused. "Are you sure?"

I nodded.

She was quiet for a few seconds. "Why did you leave home by yourself today? Where's your mother?"

"My mommy's dead," I said. "A big truck hit her three months ago."

The officer's eyes grew red around the edges. "And... who do you live with at home?"

"My stepmother, and my sister."

"Are they nice to you?"

I thought about it, but I didn't know what to say.

The officer looked at my face and seemed to understand. She stood up, went outside, and spoke quietly with some of the other officers. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they all looked very serious.

A little while later, she came back.

"Molly, are you hungry?"

"I just ate."

"Are you tired? Do you want to take a nap?"

I was a little sleepy. I had woken up very early, walked for a long time, and my tummy was full.

I nodded.

The officer led me to a small room next door. There was a little bed with clean sheets. "You can sleep here. I'll be right outside. Just call if you need anything."

I lay down on the bed, hugging my little backpack.

Inside was my eight dollars, and my mommy's picture...

No. My mommy's picture was gone.

My sister threw it in the pool.

Suddenly, I wanted to cry.

But I didn't.

Mommy said crying doesn't help. You have to be strong.

I closed my eyes.

Just before I fell asleep, I heard people talking outside.

"...it's the number one trending topic on social media..."

"...the Geller Corp official page is getting destroyed..."

"...has he responded yet?"

"...their PR team is trying to bury it, but they can't..."

I didn't understand it all.

But I knew they were talking about me.