Before The Storm

Sahairah Ashley Anderson-Smith quickly stopped, stretched out her arms, pumped out her chest, held her head back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She let the breeze run through her. Let it flow her hair back into it. She liked breezes and it felt good against her skin. Being practically a prisoner in her own home twenty-four-seven, she rarely felt a good breeze like this. In fact, it’s very rare for her to be outside her house. Especially now in the summertime. But she liked it that way. She felt it were better. No interaction with the outside world was better for her. No one would have to carry the burden she does. The breeze went as quickly a it came. She lowered her arms and smiled, it was simple things like this that made her want to second-guess living the way she does and just run away from the life she’s bound to. Then she remembers she can’t. She’d be found no matter where she hid and then be hauled back to her troubled life head first. Then punished into oblivion for trying to escape.

     “ Hey, girl, look out! Comin’ through!” Sahairah turned around to see a boy riding an expensive white bike towards her. Since the path they were on was narrow and would not fit the both of them, Sahairah, out of reaction, jumped out the way onto the grass next to her. As he rode past, the boy looked to Sahairah, smiled, and waved. Then he rode down the hill with his arms stretched out and screaming “ whooooo!” Sahairah sat there on the grass for a moment, taking in her situation, and then got up and began walking again. She looked into her bag to make sure her bottle of Ginger Ale pop hadn’t broken. In her bag was her pop and a bottle of liquid she was sure her father would love to use. She would use it as a distraction for her father so he wouldn’t punish her for leaving the house. He didn’t like her leaving the house for any other reason except school. He, in a sense, was the reason his daughter was not very social and rarely left the house. He was the reason she was scared to run away. He was the reason she wanted to run away in the first place. He did things. Horrible, unspeakable things.

At the bottom of the hill, Sahairah could see the white bike that almost hit her leaning against a dark blue, tall, wooden fence. She heard, what sounded like, a girl talking to someone about yellow roses , her favorite flower, coming from behind the fence. The girl sounded confused about something. Even though she knew practically everything about yellow roses, Sahairah ignored the girl’s questions and kept walking past the fence. Why should she? She didn’t associate herself with anyone outside of her house, not even her family, for many years. Why should she start now for something as stupid as roses? “Aw, c’mon Sampson, will you listen to me?” Sahairah felt eyes watching her as she walked past the house with the white fence. “Uh, yeah,” Sahairah heard another voice say. It sounded like a boy’s voice. “I’ll be right back, Alex” Sahairah heard the fence door creak open and close and then a boy appeared beside her. It was the same one who almost hit her with his bike. Before, he was going so fast she couldn’t really see how he looked, but now that she could, she thought that he looked pretty attractive. He had shoulder-length black hair with hints of red everywhere, the most beautiful dark green emerald eyes Sahairah had ever seen that seemed to sparkle, a black wisp of mustache and beard, a small, navy blue, stud nose ring, a white tank top that showed off how muscular he was, a green pair of cargo pants, and a warm smile on his face. Sahairah looked him up and down, and blushed, looking away.

“Hi,” the boy said, bent double trying to get a better look at Sahairah’s face seeing as she was facing the ground. Sahairah said nothing and just kept walking. “Hi, my name’s Sampson. It would be nice if I knew your name,” the boy said, trying again to start a conversation with Sahairah. “It would be best if I don’t talk to you, Sampson,” Sahairah said.

“Oh, okay,” Sampson said. “ I can take a hint. But when I see you again, you have to talk to me. And I shall call you ‘Freckles’ until you tell me your name. Later, then, Freckles.” Sampson kissed Sahairah on the cheek, waved, and jogged back to his house.