"And I could feel my mind slipping away from you and needing, craving to kill because that was all I had left. Your memories and the bracelet wasn't enough. Nothing was enough...So I threw myself into the ocean in hopes to get to the bottom. At tha...
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Alexander Louis Leloir, Jacob Wrestling with the Angel, 1865.
"He was like a wild thing that hides, not a wild thing that pursues."
— Iris Murdoch, The Unicorn
Trigger Warning (TW): Explicit content on CA (Child Abuse) and violence.
The earth stains his feet as he runs against the wet soil, the night fog licking his ivory skin. He can't stop his body from shivering as the cicadas scream all around him. His lungs try to catch up with his pace. The stars watch him like angels as he struggles his way through the forest.
"Don't let me catch you, Jacob."
Misery increases his adrenaline and fear increases his speed. He runs through the forest, oak trees keeping his scent safe, and only the whimpering of animals keeps him company. His stomach sinks deeper into his core with terror because he knows they're close. He's getting better at sensing it.
Don't let me catch you.
Don't let me catch you.
Don't let me catch you-
Birds fly in a haze above him to flee from whatever direction the gunshot comes from. His feet pick up and the sticks carve into his feet while the branches try to drag him away. He can't cry anymore. He's cried enough but despite the dread consuming his small body, he knows that to give up would be to die.
He looks up, witnessing dawn painting the sky the deepest shade of blue as the sun was making it's appearance. Nevertheless, he runs. He knows better than to let them win before whatever was in the forest makes him their meal.
Find the ribbon. Find the ribbon. Don't let them catch you.
The deafening silence of the woods is broken by his stomach. He's seen dawn return twice. His body finds rest in a hole that he shares with worms, roaches, and beetles that don't mind his sweat and fear. He stops remembering how much his body aches for food whenever the gun shots go off.
He's deeper into the forest, but his trails are marked with certain leaves he's found throughout the day. The colors and the scent of the forest is stored permanently in his mind. The vibrancy of the trees and grass gives him a comfort he's never felt better. He weeps until the cicadas come to sing to him at night. He doesn't mind being in the heart of the forest. He rather stay here more than anything. He eats the berries the animals do to soothe his stomach and listens tentatively for voices. They're getting closer every three hours.
"Don't let mommy catch you, Jacob!"
He curdles inside his hole for relief, finding solace within the leaves and debris.
___
He can't remember the last time he's had water. His tongue wrinkles against the top of his mouth but he can't stop moving his feet. He feels the vibration of their footsteps and rarely hears the animals anymore. They're close. His feet ache so badly- poorly and he's used the last material of his shirt to keep the cut on his stomach from bleeding. His ghastly body is painted in blues and reds but he can't stop.
