I ran out of my room to the kitchen as fast as I could. Before my 'mother' could stop me I grabbed a kitchen knife and sprinted out the door. I heard her shriek behind me but I never looked back.
Knife in hand, I made my way across town shooting past anyone I saw. The people who were infront of the church were behind me. I could hear them saying things like, "Stop" or "Dinner" as I was running. No matter how hard my body was aching from running, I never stopped.
Tears were running down my face until I arrived at the quarry. I immediately sprinted toward the cave. One man caught up to me and scratched my arm trying to hold onto me. I screamed and stabbed him in the arm with my knife. He made an inhuman scream when I cut him.
With him down, I was able to run right through the cave. Exactly through the same tunnel I had entered...
*****
I really wish I could tell him the truth about my traumatic experience. I looked at my friend and shrugged at him. We never returned to the subject.
The reason I couldn't tell him was because of what leaving the cave did to me. To this day, I still cannot go anywhere without my knife. Every once in a while, I look around at people. Wonder if the world is really what I think it is.
Maybe it was the fact that I could never find the same kitchen knife I took from the other place.
Maybe it was the fact that I could never find the post I made on instabook before I left.
Or maybe, it's the fact that from time to time when I visit my mother, I can see her starring into nothingness. Singing to herself. A robotic melody.
Did I ever escape?
End.
