Twenty

8. Guilt

Christian stared up at the ceiling, the sound of a clock ticking somewhere in the distance was the only thing that could be heard- that and the moaning of the house shifting, the gentle creak of old floorboards and the slight sway in the wind. These noises had been with her for so long that they had almost become comforting, but now they seemed like sirens telling her to run. Christian knew what she needed to do.

From underneath her bed, she slid out an old dusty suitcase, it had been down there for quite some time. She felt its rough casing, sturdy and solid. She hoped that it would serve her well in the future. With her hands firmly gripping the handle she departed from her room, she would never be in there again.

The sun had dipped over the horizon and her mother had retired to her room. Christian knew how this would have to go; she had done this before. Each footstep was placed with care and each breath was taken softly. She felt like she was defusing a bomb and at any second it could blow up in her face.

As she reached the front door, she turned to look at her mother's door, a small part of her wished that she would be caught and returned to the safety of her bed. The world outside seemed so big and she knew that she had barely seen any of it yet. She knew what was in here, this was her home, this is where she grew up. Maybe she should turn around and forget this ever happened. But suddenly she noticed something on the ground, a little stream of moonlight was peeking through the bottom of the door. Christian smiled, a tear running down her cheek. She knew she had to go.

Christian felt the cold air on her skin and felt the hard earth beneath her feet. For the first time, she felt like she could breathe again. Suddenly she began to run as fast as her legs could take her, each step taking her farther and farther away until she stopped. Christian turned to look at her home, or what was her home until now. Perhaps the world wasn't actually that big, maybe it was just her house that was small.

As she ran down the long and twisting dirt road that led away from her house she wondered if she would ever see it again. She wondered if she would ever hear her mother's cold voice or see her unflinching face ever again. Deep down, she hoped she never would.

...

Maria stood patiently looking out through a window, she was waiting for the sun to rise. She had been there for a very long time, the minutes shifting to hours. Her mouth was moving as she silently offered up prayers, pleas that seemed to be falling on deaf ears. Her hands were trembling, she couldn't stop them. Her heart fluttered, her pulse quickened, and she felt like she could run a mile but yet was frozen to the spot. She knew that something deep down was going broken, or perhaps something was being mended. Her conviction was split, a part of her wanted it to end now and to get it over with- the other part wished for the opposite.

Her thoughts were turned towards her daughter, to her little Christian. She wondered where she was, she hoped deeply that she was safe. Moments from her past began to replay inside her mind, memories of the long years spent raising her child on her own. She saw every smile on Christian's face, every lesson she ever taught her, every punishment she ever delivered, and the only thing she could help but think was why? Why did I never tell her?

Maria didn't have the answer. There were times when she had wanted to tell Christian all about what she had done and what her fate would be, but she didn't. It was as though her tung was tied and her lips sealed, but now they were coming loose. What have I done? My little Christian... My girl... I just wanted to keep you safe. As she thought that deep down, she knew the truth, the truth was that she was lying to herself. Suddenly her attention was diverted as she noticed, to her alarm, that someone was walking up to her driveway. It was no random stranger; the prodigal daughter had returned home.