The never ending escape

With each muscle straining step, I ran more distant from the troubles of my past. With the man who broke my skin and turned it blue closely on my tail, I had no option other than to run. With each step, a new memory evolved into fear and determination into my escape and finally getting to live the life that a young girl deserves. The many pictures which occurred in my head, his increased rage and the small wooden cottage in which I slept, lonely and in fear each night, caused each stride to broaden and my speed to gain quickly.

Flashback: walked slowly upon the wooden steps of the small cottage. For miles surrounding, woods and snow and nothing but it. My father closely followed as I entered our new 'home' for the first time. With each step, the floorboards squeaked. I began to feel the fear embedded in it's walls. This was my new life. At least for now.

After my mother passed away, my father turned to alcohol and violence, with myself as the target. With my escape, came a great chase In which I was in fear of leading in his favour. With each bound and leap, I became riddled with fear, unable to stop. Adrenaline filled my body like a disease, I was not going to stop running until I had a reason to.
Two years of living in that fear filled, blood stained cottage and I had become aware of my fate. If I remain in my potato sack bed with my head upon the infested pillow, I would soon find myself ten feet under with little air to breath. My survival had grown more important than the love and care I had for my own father.

Flashback: my first night among these walls and my father has already begun to consume the devils liquid which causes him to rage and myself become a target. The fear upon this cabin's walls soon infects me, leading to my suffering once again. With a picture of my mother held to my chest, I cry and only wish for her return and my pain to finally end. Without my mother, my life has become lonely and ever so fearful of my father and his alcoholic ways. I miss my old home and the happiness that shone off of it. I just want my old family back.

I held my mother's photograph as I ran, her becoming an inspiration for my survival. Seeing my bruised and bloodied reflection each day became fuel for adrenaline and for my life's ways to come to an end once and for all. My love for my father slowly dwindled as I heard his vicious, raspy voice shouting my name in the ever growing distance.
"Mona, Mona come back here now!"
His devilish voice sickened me the more I ran further from him.

Flashback: I pull out the rock and the nail from underneath my pillow, chiselling another tally in my wall of endless lines. Unaware of the day, date, time and month in which I spend another night upon my bed, weak and sore. I love my father, but everything is becoming too much for my body and mind to handle.

Each memory continued to develop much to my despair. Everywhere I passed looked the same. I was unaware of my whereabouts, but nothing mattered more than my survival. My tiny, weak legs soon began to slow. Everything became too much. I fell to my knees and began to cry next to an old elm tree. My tears began to slow as I heard the sounds of civilisation and smelt the marvellous smell of freshly baked bread and other foods; something I was in need of desperately. I had not eaten in around two weeks and more than likely looked something like a skeleton running through the woods.
My last bound of energy got me to the village which I had dreamed of for so long. I hobbled through the streets, in hope of my father giving up and returning to the cottage in which I was imprisoned. Girls and boys my age played on the streets, fraternising and having fun. Through all of this, I could only think of the food and water which I deserved.
A young baker pulled me gently into her store and told me to introduce myself.
"Mona, my name is Mona"
The beautiful lady gave me food in an abundance and all of the water I desired. She cleaned me up and gave me a towel, pointing to the bathroom. The hot water stung the scars that covered my back, yet the water and steam felt like heaven. The heaven I deserved.

The wonderful lady introduced herself as Jean and soon welcomed me into her home. She took care of me like her own child. Jean reminded me of my own mother whom I had lost. Jean and I became friends. She gave me an apron and a key to her store. I worked alongside her for the following years. Until I created a family of my own, Jean was all I had. As a permanent member of my new family, I cherish her and care for her whenever she is in need, just like she did for me.

My past is nothing now but ash amongst a flame, almost forgotten.