On the Run from 1939

Five

I look towards Simon's sleeping body, watching as his stomach falls up and down, his rhythmic breathing the only thing keeping my thoughts in check. My black dress from my brother's funeral, covered in mud from the house explosion, sleeping in the woods, running from the law. Lifting my arm, I see grazes and cuts from the trees' branches, rose flowers' thorns, stinging nettles sharp touch...

I sense movement to my left, seeing Simon slowly come around from his daze of sleep.

"Hey, how are you this morning?" Simon asks, his morning voice, causing his speech to sounds raspy. I lift up my wounded arm as an answer, and he just lets out a small laugh. "We'll get your arm sorted, don't worry. We'll try sneaking in my house to pack some things."

"But we might get cause. Do you really want to risk that?"

"If it gets you better, yes." I smile at his concern, making me feel this journey is not for nothing.

"Well, we better get going if we want to be at the house by sundown, at least." Simon says, simultaneously getting up. I follow his moves and follow him as he walks forward, what feels like even further into the forest.

I walk up next to Simon. "So, tell me more about you." I say, wanting to know more about his apparently abusive family. "Maybe something about your family?" I ask.

Simon turns towards me and looks me in the eye. "What have your parents told you? They must have said something if you have all of these questions. I heard them say something about my family name to you."

I look back, scared to suddenly ask. What if he gets angry and leaves me here, alone? No, he would not do that. Would he?

Looking to the floor, I say, "My parents said your family was abusive."

When I look up, she is staring back at me, a look of sadness on his face. He looks towards the fallen dilapidated tree trunk and motions for me to sit on it. I slowly lower myself onto it, scared it will cave underneath me.

"When I was born, my dad was happy as can be. Then, when I was about five or six, was the first time my dad hit me. I was in such shock, I didn't know what to do. So, I just stared at him, waiting for what he would do next. I may have been only five or six, but I wasn't stupid.

"When he didn't do anything and walked away, I ran outside and cried for, I don't even know how long." I look up at him, seeing tears in his eyes. He comes and sits next to me, slumping over.

"Then, it kept happening and happening. Pretty much all the time. One day, when I was, like, thirteen, I retaliated. I did it, and immediately regretted it. He hit me more, and more until-" he isn't able to finish the sentence. He cries out and falls on me, putting all of his weight on my shoulder. I pull my arm around him and stroke his hair.

"Stop, you do not need to say any more." I say as I comfort him from his long living nightmares.

After ten minutes, he starts up again: "So, after that happened, he never did it again, thankfully. I guess me retaliating made him stop. There was no-one else there to stop him from doing it. I had to do it all by myself." he says, no longer crying.

"What about your mother? She would have tried to stop it, surely."

"I'm sure she would have, if she wasn't dead." Simon says, his voice conveying dejection.

"Oh. I am sorry. What happened?" I ask, knowing I am stepping in sensitive territory, but wanting to know more.

"She died during child birth. As did my grandmother. And the rest of the women in the family who have had children. I guess what it is is that the fathers hold the children responsible, and that's why my father did what he did to me. That's the only reason I can think of."

I looked at him, speechless. Is that why my parents were scared of me being with Simon? That he would beat me and I would die having his child, if I ever had his child?

"Would you ever do that to me?" I query.

"Do what? Beat you?" he catechises. I stifle a small nod. "Never, why would you think that?"

"I do not know. Just wondered." But the thought will probably always linger in my mind until the day I die...

We hear rustling in the bushes. But at first look, it is just a bird rising out of them, majestically leaping itself into the air.

Simon catches my face with his hands, staring into my eyes. "I would never hurt you. Not ever while I live. Understand?" He says, anger at me inquiring is running through his voice. I stifle a small nod, then he kisses me, slowly. But no matter what he may say, I will always wonder if he is really telling the truth, or if he is lying to me. I guess I will find out eventually.

There is another rustling in the distance, voices coming towards us. Simon swears and grabs my hand, leading me into a hole near a tree. I slide in, my dress riding up. When I reach the bottom, I pull it back down before Simon arrives, seconds later. We huddle closely to each other, keeping each other warm in this dank hole. Hearing voices running above us is unsettling. Hopefully, no-one will look down this hole, made of unpleasant damp and cold...