Chapter 6 - My only friend

I've been chased before by those stronger and in numbers. I ran fast, then either hid or found refuge. It's all you can do. I escaped every time. But those moments running, my brain on speed-mode, ultra focused on the escape, they stay in my head as if they were filmed in slow motion. Now that I think of it, I've been chased quite a few times. Every time it was a man, or men. Every other time I was running on foot. It's terrifying and all they are thinking about is what? Adrenaline highs with the boys? Real men defend women. Those guys, those guys... I hope they grew up to become real men.

I wonder of the perspective of the chaser, if they can fathom the fear of the chased. For in this need to escape my head and heart go to the place that is crushed and without light or match to bring a comforting spark. I feel the screaming of my lungs and the will of my muscles to go far beyond what exercise could ever demand. This is the body and brain if full survival mode and it is nothing but pain.

That's how I got trapped here. All alone in the darkness of my own thoughts, whatever could happen I do not have control of. Every humans worst fear is losing control of situations; any situations. Control is everything; it's power.

I wiped the sweaty off my brow and desperately and frantically trying to find my way in the darkness of the wood. The spring foliage was so thick I could barley see ten meters in any direction but I knew I had to venture forwards; for safety.

The ground beneath was soft from last night's rainfall, the resulting of the leaves followed behind me in piles. I dragged on my feet gluing them in place. I was panting heavily and a sharp, piercing stitch in my stomach made me stop in my tracks. I dropped to my knees, clutching tightly to my stomach.

I looked behind me, the this that followed me to the floor. Those black shiny shoes stuck up in the air, attached; skinny, feminine legs, a torso drenched in crimson blood and a beautiful face with a disgusting expression of betrayal and fear.

She had no reason to fear me. She did not need to feel betrayed; I was the one she betrayed.

Her eyes were grey and lifeless, skin a sickly blue-grey and curling fingers, slowly grasping for life. Her hair was messy, already tied back with a bun but had small strands sticking out, connected to earthy, brown leaves and mossy, green foliage. Mud ran down the skin on her neck, staining her youthful, smooth skin to a nauseated yellow.

I was the first to chance upon the brook. It was a fragile, duck-egg blue colour, like the subtle sweep of a painter's brush. Seeping and snaking smoothly past all obstacles, it managed to hurdle the river's boulders also. Twigs twirled on its murmuring surface, little messengers from the mountain trees where they had come from. The brook flowed over the pebbled riverbed. It sounded like the airy, velvety whirl of a starling flock.

The grey most settled at the bank; a dark and cryptic atmosphere. So evil every form of life was either out of sight or crippling away; slowly and painfully.

I dragged the body, resting her fragile head at the starting line of the river. The forest river is keeper of deepest poetry, whispering sweet notes in cascading water-strings. The secret of my son is kept within me and this forest, these wooden skyscrapers are the tattle tellers of God. And for this, I shall go where no mortal wishes.

I betrayed my best friend; my only friend. And in doing so, she died because of my mistakes. As black heavens keep watch with eyes of starlight, the forest river flows ever onward, her destiny to bless the ocean.

I wake up suddenly, not because of any noise or interruption, yet because my dream had come to its conclusion. The night movie had ended, credits had rolled. Now it was time to engage in the real world once more. Waking up suddenly can be as a great epiphany, a eureka moment, when the friendly ghosts of the soul have set you upon a new path.

From the land of dreams to the land that needs them. From asleep to awake in one heartbeat. I woke up in my bed. The midnight moonlight shone through the small window above my head. I looked around the room I was in. It was run down, practically all wooden. Held by giant beams for support. There is no silence, for even the blossoming of a bud can be heard. There is no sound in the house, yet everyone is moving, moving and not talking. In the midst of the dark room I could make out a shadow. It elevated slowly, calmly. I heard the slight creaking of the run down bed frame holding it up. It looked to be a person; asleep.

"Abby?" I prayed, whispering under my breathe. I could feel the fear in my chest waiting to take over. The air is so brittle it could snap, and if it doesn't, I might. I fled from under the warmth of my own covers to inspect the other person in the room. My eyes moved with the alertness that came from heavy stress and my hands remained clenched by subconscious demand. I met with it's face, their form was hunched over and huddling for warmth during the brisk night. Their face was buried deep into the pillow and duvet, hiding everything but their left cheek, and tightly closed, eye.

Even though I could hardly make out their face, I knew it was my good friend Abby. She was safe, alive and here with me. My only friend. Right at the beginning; her uncles hotel...

My journey is not over, but it still hasn't began yet I can't help but feel as if my path is like a loop, a repeat of something. I can't quiet place it but something doesn't feel... right?