A School for the Erratic and Strange

Chapter 6: Fear in the Familiar

(Warning for trauma response, mentions of human trafficking, panic attack, and ptsd episode.)

     Miss. Jenkin's farm house was in Texas, which meant we had to take a bus from New York to Houston. This was a two day trip, which I spent listening to music and drawing in my sketch book. On the first night before falling asleep, I sketched a basic outline for the drawing. The next day, after waking up and eating a protein bar Miss. Jenkins offered me, I drew a bony hand reaching upwards, with a large open cut down the side of it that showed the bones and muscle within the hand. I coloured the hand while Miss. Jenkins performed her violin for a man from Kentucky that was curious about it.

Miss. Jenkins got out a container with ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch, which she examined carefully before handing me one with a grin. "Thank you." I replied, eating it as I looked over my drawing to try and decide what else I could add to it. After finishing my sandwich I started drawing thin vines covered in thorns and purple flowers that grew around the hand, holding it back from whatever it had been reaching.

I fell asleep while colouring the vines. Miss. Jenkins had to catch my sketch book so it wouldn't fall to the floor. I slowly drifted into consciousness as I felt her lift my arm put the sketch book back under it. Even though I hardly knew her, it was nice having someone I felt I could trust there. Otherwise I wouldn't have felt safe sleeping in a bus. I wonder if she ever got any sleep... I fell back to sleep, however, before I could ponder that question further. Maybe she used magic to keep herself awake.

The next morning I finished my drawing while eating a protein bar. Miss. Jenkins told me I was a good artist, and I thanked her. "I know it's a bit creepy, but I like it." I stated as I made some edits to fix mistakes I made. "Nothing wrong with creepy. Besides, there's meaning behind it. It tells a story of someone trying to escape a bad situation, and the scars you can get from that." Miss. Jenkins commented. I nodded, feeling a wonderful sense of joy at my art being understood.

"Yes! Exactly." I told her happily. "Sometimes it feels like you would have been better off staying there... Not fighting against the thorns keeping you there... but you have to remember that you would have had much worse scars had you stayed." I went on with a thoughtful tone. Miss. Jenkins watched with an understanding but concerned expression as I finished my drawing. She didn't say anything, but I could see the question in her eyes. She knew I was speaking from experience, but knew better than to ask. I was glad she didn't. It wasn't something I liked to talk about.

The sun was setting when we arrived at Houston. From there we were going to take a taxi to her farm house... I can't help but compare this however, to something I've gone through before. Taking a bus across states, taking a taxi to somewhere isolated... where many others my age would be waiting... I felt a rush of panic as we got off the bus to a place I didn't know.

It was all so familiar to me. I did this with my boyfriend in High School. He was bringing me to a new house he bought for us in Chicago. A cottage in the country side. He said life would be better for us there. He'd provide for me, and let me be myself. He would love me for who I am. I'd never want for anything again. We had dated for years, and he had always been there for me. He was the only person I felt comfortable around. He convinced me that he was the only person that cared for me... Then he brought me to a cottage, and he introduced me to his friends and their girlfriends.

He encouraged me to be comfortable with them, and they showed me love too. They brought me to a hair dresser to get my hair changed. They chose what I wore. I'd fall asleep, and they'd bring me to another new place. Most of the time I wouldn't even know where we were. I thought we were still in Chicago when we were in Washington, or California, or Idaho. By then it was too late. They had people pay to spend the night with me. They drugged me and brought me somewhere else when I tried to escape. They always kept me moving. I managed to escape when someone pretended to be a client to help me get out of there. They would have taken me to another country next if it hadn't been for that. I was taken back to my family, and haven't left New York since. Travelling has always been overwhelming for me. And now here I was, travelling to who knows where with a complete stranger... Sure, they proved they had magic, but who's to say the magic world wasn't the same as this one?