Stretched across my shame

Dead leaves and small twigs crush beneath the pressure of my bare feet. The cool dew on the leaves spreads melancholy shivers up my spine and quakes in my brain. I am alone. I cannot see. I set my hand on a nearby tree, my skin fair and soft against the coarse bark. I try to force my eyes to see through the dark; but even if I could see through the dark, I would also have to be able to penetrate the fog with my gaze.

Exasperation fills me and causes my chest to expand in anxiety. I’m never getting out. I’m never finding home. I am so alone. 

I clutch my white, flimsy blanket around my shoulders. It’s damp against the freezing air surrounding me. I must look like a ghost—pale and lost—amongst all these tall trees. I felt like a ghost. I felt forgotten, betrayed, abandoned. Why had I ever trusted a single person?

The beckon of a wolf in the distance instantly pulls my attention back to my surroundings. I think to keep moving, but then worry that they’ll hear me—the wolves, that is. I knew the others could hear me. I knew they knew my exact location. 

If I listened closely enough, I could hear one of their giggles flutter through the frigid breeze. I would die here tonight. I shiver. I never thought to ask what I had done to deserve this.

A crunch of leaves and twigs to my right signals that I have company. I panic and turn in the other direction. Bare feet slap against rugged, sharp surfaces as I hold my blanket to me and fly through the night. I’m scared. I’m so scared.

Who are they? Who are the others? Why do they seek my life? Why do they seek me?

I chance a look back. I stumble and fall into a tree. Black.

How long have I been out? How am I still alive? My eyelids flutter from the headache and panic as I try desperately to see more of my surroundings. My breathing is coming out loudly and solidly in the air. My elbows dig deep into sticks and rocks. Where am I?

“Are you okay?” A voice asks from behind a nearby tree. I try to choke down the fear but am not successful. I try to get up to run again, but I’m too dizzy. I fall back down.

“Don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself more,” the voice assures me, more soothing, now. I don’t trust it. I cannot see the source; and, even if I could, I still wouldn’t trust it. Things are becoming fuzzy as I breathe myself to blackness.

How long have I been out? My eyes won’t open. I try to calm myself. There is a hand on my forehead, and I can feel someone kneeling beside me. I squirm a little under their touch.

“Don’t move,” the voice whispers. It’s the same voice from before.

“Who are you?” I whisper, my voice hoarse from breathing in the cold air.

“I am here to help you,” the voice replies. My eyes still won’t work. My fingertips dig into the ground in effort of opening them.

“Why can’t I open my eyes?” I ask, teeth gritted.

“That is a good question,” the voice says back. My eyes are open and I’m looking up into the face of the man who was chasing me. He looks kind. He isn’t kind.

“Why are you here,” I ask just below a whisper.

“I’m not here,” he replies. I frown. He is kneeling over me, his knee solid on the ground next to me. It could probably crush my skull with enough force. And then, his hand on my forehead is a recent memory, his body heat still fading from my face, and I am no longer looking up into those eyes. He’s not here.

I stand, noticing daylight beginning to filter through the dense crop of trees surrounding me. I can finally see more around me.

I begin to run, becoming slightly out of breath, but not caring. My feet feel different. I pause in running to see what’s wrong: they’ve been wrapped in bandages. They’re sore, but they’re cushioned. I look up in bewilderment. The man bandaged my feet. I begin to run again, realizing how much easier it is to run with something covering my feet.

And then I hear it. A car. I’m near a road. I cannot believe my luck. I listen hard for where the sound came from, my eyes wild and breath white in the air. Goosebumps move up my arms and I realize I forgot my blanket.

There it is! Another car! I begin to run straight ahead. I’m beginning to see some of the pavement. Pavement is now the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I’m standing on the pavement, waiting for another car to come along. Excitement is boiling through my veins. I will get home. I will be warm again.

Headlights in the early-morning daze awaken my senses; and I wave frantically as the car speeds ever closer to where I stand. Excitement continues to pulse through my veins as the car comes closer and closer and closer.

And then, the car is twenty feet away, and it hasn’t slowed down. Do they not see me? The pavement seems to cut into my feet. I’m glued to the spot. I can’t move in time. I will die right here.

Like an angel, I fly. Everything is numb as seconds take hours to tick by within my mind. I see the blue sky above and the pavement below. Beauty everywhere. Beauty everywhere.

I feel gravity slowly work on my body as I fall. The pavement isn’t slowing down. The pavement will never slow down.

I lay here: broken. I will surely die here. I will die here today.