Beyond fear (Jenny scott)

The Escape

As I try to flee the cabin, I am beset by terrifying visions. Shadows sneak between the trees, murmurs seem to come out of nowhere, and I feel a dark presence that follows me closely. My steps resonate in the forest, but I'm sure to hear steps behind me. Steps that come together. I run faster, praying to get to the car safe and sound. Suddenly, I feel an icy hand that grabs my right foot. I lose my balance and stumble, my half-paire of sneakers getting stuck in the roots of a tree. I start to scream, desperately trying to free myself, but the strange hand that holds me back is incredibly strong. I am pulled back, the clawed fingers of my attacker sinking into my skin. Terror overwhelms me, and I scream even louder. My thoughts are blurring, I no longer know where I am or how I got there. My survival instincts dictate to me to struggle, and I strike forcefully in all directions, but nothing seems to affect my assailant. On the verge of exhaustion, I resolve myself to a last effort. I manage to free myself and put myself on my legs. I run without looking back, short of breath, towards my car. I dare not look back, but I feel that something is following me. Fear torments me, I have the impression that my heart is gripped. My breath is getting shorter and shorter, my legs no longer respond as well as before, but I force myself to hold on. Finally, I see my car, and I accelerate again. I finally arrive at the door, I grab the handle, I try to open it, but it is stuck. It is then that I realize that something holds me firmly by the other leg. I struggle with all my might, I cry with all my might, I pray that someone can hear me. Finally, my hand relaxes, and I manage to slip inside the car. Trembling, I look around, but I see nothing but the darkness of the night. The little time I spent here took me several hours ?? I start the car and go straight towards the ****** house it is 8 p.m., I am in my bed thinking about this day in the forest. These things really exist, they are not fairy tales to scare children, it's really true. If I can't talk about it with my friends, maybe I could question my father, because everyone has heard of this cabin and it goes back well before my birth. He will be less suspicious. I get out of my bed and get out of my room towards my father's room. I hit and he tells me to come in. He is still working. "Dad, aren't you sleeping?" I ask looking worried. "No, I still have a few documents to finish. And you, why don't you sleep? "" I don't really want to sleep. I go ahead and sit on dad's bed. He gets up and joins me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and looks at me insistently. "What is it? He asks me! By staring at my father, my mind is transported to another time. The memories of our happy family, with my mother and my brother Peter, come to the surface. But as tears begin to invade my eyes, I realize that these moments will never come back. A lonely tear slides along my cheek. "Dad, I miss them so much!" I moaned, letting tears flow. My father took me in his arms and I collapsed in tears. Every day, I tried to forget their absence, but the pain was still there.

" It'll be OK. We'll get through this," my father told me, wiping my tears.

" You really think ? ", I asked, looking into his eyes.

"Yes, everything will be fine. I'm sure," he replied with a sympathetic smile.

I felt soothed, but a lingering sadness remained within me.

Suddenly, my father stood up and looked at me with a determined look.

"Wait, I have something for you," he said as he left the room.

He returned with a small object in his hand. It was my mother's necklace, the one she wore all the time. A gold cross shone on his neck.

" Take this. It's your mother's necklace. She would have wanted you to wear it," my father said, handing me the object.

I looked at the necklace with disinterest. The cross of Jesus, symbol of all these absurd beliefs, which plunged my family into sadness.

"Dad, I'm not sure I want that," I said, rejecting the offer.

"I know you're not religious, but it belongs to your mother and she would like you to wear it. He will protect you," my father replied, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I knew this necklace was important to my mother, but I couldn't bring myself to wear a religious symbol.

"Dad, I agree that it's mom's, but don't tell me she'll protect me. It's just a necklace," I replied, a little annoyed.

"Their death is not God's fault, you know," my father said to me in a gentle tone.

"It has nothing to do with God, Dad. They left us, and nothing can bring them back," I replied, trying to hold back my tears.

I took the necklace and thanked my father. Then I went out.
I didn't even tell him about the cabin, it's no longer useful.