▪︎●▪︎
We found a road and followed beside it. We stayed a distance away, hidden in the woods to not be seen.
The snow had melted away that morning. The journey was easier. I was thankful.
I watched as a car would drive by, not that there were many. There only seemed to be one that passed by every two hours.
I wondered sometimes if it could be someone from the orphanage looking for us or one of the men.
I thought about the old woman.
No orphanage?
... How?
"Clara!" I called. She turned back to look at me and understood my wariness.
She looked around and then used her blanket to sit down on and then took out another chunk of bread for both her and I.
I ate it slowly, wanting the food to last longer.
"We don't have much bread left," she said. "Only another day at least."
"We could find another house?" I suggested.
"No," she said in a tone that allowed no argument. "We keep going until we find a town."
We rested and then continued to walk the rest of that day.
We used Clara's blanket to lay on at night and then mine to cover us.
I learned to hate the darkness. The sounds it made, the unknown, the vulnerability, the sudden roar of a car.
I learned to fear the darkness.
My body would shake, not just from the cold but also from this fear, and Clara, seemingly unafraid of anything, would hold onto me. Her hand was gentle as she held my own.
It comforted me throughout these fearful nights.
When we woke that morning, we rose at seven, gathered our things, and continued on along the road for hours on end.
My feet ached, and my legs hurt, but I didn't complain.
After all, it was a rule.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Touch Her
Romance"What did he - Where did he touch you?" His voice had hardened, mad. I swallowed and looked down. "You son of a-" He walked off the porch, angrily running his hands through his hair. "What did he look like? I'm swear I'm gonna kill him. Tell me what...
