Exiled

TWO

By the time I get home, my watch reads 11:32 p.m. I am utterly exhausted.

I climb the stairs of our meek two-story home and stumble through the door to my bedroom. I fall ungracefully onto my bed and sink quickly into a deep sleep, too tired to even remove my shoes.

I dream that night that I am wandering through a thick forest, alone.

I feel like I'm looking for something, but recalling exactly what, is just beyond my reach. I hear the snapping of twigs as I walk timidly, through the forest. A shiver crawls across my skin as a faint strange growling echoes and unfurls all around me.

I am terrified but I force my feet to continue moving forward, wrap my arms tightly around myself in an attempt to contain the wave of fear threatening to spill out of me. It almost feels like I am trying to form a barrier between myself and whatever unknown that is lurking just beyond the shadows.

It's starting to get cold as I now wander both with and without purpose. I can feel something inching closer to me. I can feel its wicked presence closing in on me, pressing me farther into the darkness. I pull my arms tighter around my small frame, a futile attempt to retain my own body heat.

There's a sudden warmth that rhythmically caresses the back of my neck—breathing, I realize. Hot breaths licking across my skin that nauseate me and leave me paled as the fear spills over and coats my skin with its ghostly mark. I stop, frozen in my tracks and squeeze my eyes shut as a growl slides across my skin and licks vehemently against my brain. It vibrates down my spine and lands in my core like a rock. I imagine this is what it feels like to be touched by death itself.

I turn around shakily only to find nothing is there. Confusion tangles itself in my brain, pulling my brows together tightly. I can't move, and gasp as I realize it is not from fear, but because my boots are stuck calf deep in the fresh mud surrounding me. I search my brain for an indication as to when I wandered into mud, only to come up empty handed.

Panic is beginning to set in. My heart is pounding rapidly against my ribcage. My palms are sweaty causing me to lose my grip as I desperately pull and pry at my boots hastily. I can feel myself starting to sink deeper in the mud with each tug. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears, a dizzying sensation that fights for my attention.

The forest is growing darker by the minute now. I can sense the darkness growing as well, its monsters lingering just beyond the shadows ready to swallow me whole.

I wake with a sudden jolt ricocheting through my limbs. I gasp for air as if I'd just emerged from nearly drowning, the fear induced adrenaline still lingering in my blood.

I sit up slowly, my heart still pounding hard against my ribcage, the rapid lub-dub throbbing in my ears. My clothes are completely drenched with sweat, the only visible indicator of my distress. They cling to me, suffocating me and making my nerves harder to calm. I try to take a deep, cleansing breath.

It was just a dream. I remind myself, a mantra I repeat over and over until my heart rate and breathing slows and I can no longer feel the sweat gathering in my palms.

Only two more days until I am ousted from the only home I have ever known.

Only two days stand between me and the blurred uncertainty of my future.

I shudder at the thought and force it down, swallowing it painfully over the lump in my throat.

I get up, making my way to the bathroom and strip quickly, ready to be underneath the cleansing water of a cold shower. It pours over me like ice, making every inch of my skin sing in protest of the assault. I feel like new life is being breathed into me with the sting of each drop.