The window in the lake

I didn't look back as I ran out the door and down the front steps. I know they will find me eventually. There was no place I could hide from them. They always found me and dragged me back, sometimes kicking and screaming. I didn't care. I didn't care what the consequences would be. I didn't care how much he would punish me. Nine months. I just needed to make it nine more months. Then I would turn 18 and there was nothing they could do. I would be free to leave. They could not make me stay. The local enforcers would not be forced to take me back when I said no. They would legally be able to let me go. Let me be free. Free from this hell. This prison I could not escape. It was not always bad. There was a time when I was happy, when life was good. But it had been a while since I felt that happiness. I don't think I would recognize the feeling anymore. I forget how it feels to laugh or smile. To feel carefree, not feel hate and resentment, to embrace a touch and not flinch away from it. I tried to remember my life before this hell, but with each year that passed, so did the memories. Sometimes I thought the memories were not real at all, just something my mind had made up to help me survive the pain. A glimmer of hope to hang on, to keep fighting, to keep pushing through, to not give up. With each passing year, the memories faded and along with them my hope for something better. I could see the opening ahead. I was almost there. I didn't look back at the sound of the front screen door slamming. I knew he was coming, but I had a good lead. I just needed to push a little harder, a few more steps and I would be safe. Safe from his revenge, safe from his torture and torment. Safe from his punishments that he said were for my own good. Never admitting that it was for his sick pleasure. Just a few more steps and I would be in the clearing surrounded by trees, surrounded by safety. No matter how mad he was, he never crossed into the woods after me. He would stop at the edge and look in but never crossed into them. Sometimes he would stand there for hours just searching for signs of me. But the woods protected me. They shielded me from his sight. Sometimes it felt like the trees swayed with me as I moved through the woods to help shield me from the outside. I knew he would put men along the woods border to wait for me. They would wait all night if they had to. I would have to leave the woods eventually and they would be there waiting. Waiting to drag me back to that house, back to that hell. Every inch of my body ached as I ran into the clearing. I didn't look back or stop when I crossed the border. I kept pushing myself forward further into the woods. Further into their protection. I could still hear him yelling, but the sound was fading, growing further and further away. I still didn't look back. I kept moving forward. I could feel the sticks under my bare feet and the thorns that ripped down my legs. I could feel the sting every time my feet touched the ground, but I didn't care. I pushed through it all. The pain of the woods was nothing to the pain that he would inflict on me. If he decides to enter the woods and follow me. I shivered as the thought ran through my mind. That thought gave me the strength to keep pushing on. I was panting when it came into sight. Air was struggling to get into my lungs as I tried to slow my breathing with deep, long breaths. My heart was racing and every inch of my body hurt, not ache but hurt. I could smell and feel the blood now. The blood that was streaming down my face. I started to worry about the blood trail I might have left behind. The trail that would lead him right to me if he decided to cross the border. A light rain started as if the woods knew what I was thinking, like they could feel my fear. The rain poured down harder like the woods were scared too. Scared that he would cross the border and find me. The rain was washing away my path, my trail of blood that was a map straight to me. I felt the relief wash over me. The woods were protecting me like they always did when I ran into them. My safe place. I let the rain pour down on my body and wash away some of the blood I was covered in. I took a deep breath as I moved closer to the lake. The lake that was spread out before me. My happy place. The place I came to every chance I got. The place where I was free, safe. It called to me. I came here every day when I was younger. I would spend hours sitting by the lake reading, drawling or just staring out into it. On hot days I would swim in it. I sat along the edge of the lake and looked out at the open space. The water was calm and clear. I could see a group of small fish in a cluster by the shore. I watched as they chased each other around, so free and happy. I don't know how long I sat there staring into the lake. I could see the colors changing on the horizon. Dusk was approaching. I never stayed in the woods after dark. I always headed back to the house before the woods got dark. My father always told me I had no reason to fear the woods, no matter what time of the day it was. But when he died, my mother told me horrible stories of the monsters that lived in the woods and fed at night. Monsters that haunted my dreams. I know I should leave. I should leave the woods before the night arrives. The thought of moving made every inch of my body protest in pain. Pain that would only get worse the minute I left these woods and was drugged back to the house where I would be punished for defending myself and running away. No leaving the woods could not be an option, no matter what monsters lurk in the night, they could not be worse than what waited back at that house. My eyes were getting heavy, I was having a hard time finding the strength to hold them open. My stomach growled. Maybe the sound would be enough to keep whatever monsters that lurked at night far enough away from me. I didn't have time to ponder the thought. My body was too worn down to fight anymore, the darkness was taking over.