I

Suddenly, I feel my lungs fill completely with each inspiration. My mouth goes dry and my lips part. It hurts inside every time the air brushes my throat and moves between my breasts. My ears sting and my eyes weigh as heavy as if they had two buckets of sand tied to each eyelid. My mind won't let me think about what to do, it just wants to escape and run until my legs can't move anymore, which I guess it won't take long.

I fall to my knees in the wet grass, I stretch my arms to avoid hitting my face on the ground and I get muddy all over when it splashes from the impact. The rain hits my still open sores, covering my naked body not only with icy water but also with a frantic trembling that I cannot control. I am not complaining; I have no voice left even to murmur my martyrdom to the wind.

The light from the small window that I jumped through suddenly comes on. My heart jumps with the shadow represented by its silhouette in the glass, it asks me inside to run, to scream, to live. My body feels energetic as if a shock were to wake me up with a single blow. I lie down in the mud and try to cover myself in the bushes without looking back. I am afraid to see his face again. I'm afraid he will tie me up, gag me, and put me to sleep like that first time. I'd rather be dead than go back, so I'll try to live at least a little longer in case I can't help it.

I crawl through the grass. The petrichor reeks of a mixture of animal excrement and accumulated garbage. I'm not sure if that is the smell of the place or is it just me that emanates such a reek. My skin gets dirty and tinged with all the shades of brown on top. Disgust floods my thoughts, but before I spit out more than ideas, another event luckily attracts my attention. I hear the loud screams of frustration inside the house. If I want to continue feeling the world around me, I know perfectly well that I don't have much time.

I support my weight between my forearms that end on the tips of my elbows, and my knees and feet, in such a way that it seems that I am crawling on the back of puddles. I hurry to reach the thick forest. I do not see green anywhere, only blueish darkness in the background and the reflection of the water that accumulates in the vast grass. I don't know which is the direction since at this time of night, only two things can be distinguished on the horizon: a thick patch of sturdy trunks, misshapen leaves and thin branches, and the blurred firmament that cries in my place, that cries those tears that no longer fit inside me to shed.

I hear the hurried footsteps at the other end of the house, footsteps that I perceive increasingly stronger. My body reacts without me giving the order. Then, my bladder jumps and releases its contents on my thighs, I feel the warmth of the liquid mix with the remains of earth and leaves on top of me, and I begin to tremble louder, unable to suppress the small hints of moans contained in the crying, a dry cry that hits my already sunken and haggard eyes. I cover my mouth with my right hand to keep quiet. I keep upside down as I clumsily make my way to the nearest trees. I hear his voice and feel the light of his flashlight on my heels. That's when I can't take it anymore, I get up from the ground with the little remaining energy that I have left and I desperately enter the huge maples in front of me.

I stumble once, twice... three times in a row before hitting the ground and taking a breath. The rain gets worse and brings with it its own moans. The thunder mutes my complaints and hides my flight. Rabbits and foxes hide from my presence, fallen branches break with every step I take, trees cover my way, so I keep dodging them and try to stay in the same direction. My ears hear a thousand and one different sounds, hundreds of threats coming, but they only focus on one: in that crunch that the earth provides when it is stepped on by footwear. That soft rattle that for me, right now, would be louder and more intense than any explosion or shot. My eyes always fail me when I need them, but I suddenly realize that I can see far again. I can distinguish the headlights of a car, between separate fat drops and thin intertwined branches, which disappear and are lost in the dark. Now I am clear about the direction I should take.

Tiredness overcomes me and I throw fluids onto the grass. It is only water that I see stripping from my lips into the bushes and mixing with the heavy rain. I'm so tired that my body doesn't even obey me when I order it to surround the amalgam that formed from the disgusting substance. I step on it barefoot, but I don't care anymore, my whole body is now as disgusting as that fetid little puddle anyway.

The muscles prick me, I feel them stretch and contract, hurting me just moving. I move awkwardly and carelessly, and again trip over a log thrown in the leg. I am less than a meter from reaching the highway, from reaching my freedom. The headlights come back. My fists clench my fragile nails and embody them on my palms. I stumble to my feet, supporting myself with my hands still clenched. I notice that I won't make it to the road so I improvise a distraction.

I lie on my back, rest my neck on the ground, turn my gaze to the nearest silhouette, and take a large, round rock with both hands, and throw it over my head in one last attempt to survive the night. The car swerves around the obstacle I just threw at it, stopping before hitting a huge walnut tree. The driver's door opens and a stranger rushes out. He looks up and places it among the trees, searching for whatever has thrown that sturdy rock. I raise an arm, in a lifeless attempt to get his attention. He leans towards me as I distinguish him from the branches, takes off his leather jacket when he reaches my bruised body, and covers my naked humanity with it. I find no pleasure in the warmth it gives me. I fear that I will never find pleasure in life again.

"Child..." exclaimed the stranger, somewhat scared, with a thick voice that emanated peace and tranquility. "Put your arm on my neck." He ordered me. "Quickly, girl... Help me help you, honey."

I stammer what I want to believe is a 'Thank you', but I guess he doesn't understand me, as his face shows no sign of empathy. He carries me with both arms, one on my mid-back and the other under my knees. He doesn't touch me or take advantage of my condition, even though he knows that I cannot defend myself. He leads me to his car, lowers my legs to the asphalt to free one of his hands, and opens the door to the rear seats. He helps me get in and accommodates me with paternal patience and tenderness. I watch him get into the car and start the car's engine before falling into a deep sleep.