cleanse

12

"Gather around, everyone!" A voice on the intercom announces. "We will be exiting the train in five minutes! Please exit the train in an orderly fashion!" I open my door and wait next to Mahree in a booth. "I guess this is it, then." I say quietly. "It's showtime." Mahree rests her hand on top of mine and squeezes it. 

I've never wanted to run away so much. I wanted to run away from home after mom was gone, but I couldn't bring myself to leave her garden behind. My muscles tighten at the thought of running through the foliage with Mahree close behind me, telling me "keep going!" when I try to stop for a break.

The train begins to slow down. My mind is racing and my heart is pumping like an engine. Don't give up now. You just have to run!  My insides churn as the train comes to a complete stop. I wrap my fingers around Mahree's and we rise from the booth. "Ready?" she asks. "Ready." I reply tentatively. 

She seems to sense the uncertainty in my voice. Rather than asking me if I'm okay, she pulls me into a hug and brushes her lips over the top of my head. Without another word, she takes my hand and leads me toward the middle of the crowd. At least fifteen or so people stand between us and the exit. Fifteen people between us and our potential route to freedom; or death if we're not lucky enough to live.

The metal door slides open and the crowd pushes us down the stairs. I tighten my grip on her hand and she does the same, making sure our hands never disconnect. Our whole plan could be in jeopardy if we separate. When the people in front of us are out the door and waiting in an unorganized crowd, we make a break for it behind the train.

There is only one guard outside, and he is standing by the entrance to the building. He didn't notice us. At least I don't think he did. It's been thirty seconds since we made it behind the train car and nobody has make any ruckus about missing people. 

I turn my head and give Mahree a nod. That's when we begin running as fast as our legs can carry us. My legs swiftly extend in front of my body. I don't look back because it will slow us down. Mahree's hand is still locked in mine. I don't plan on letting it go for a while. She's keeping up with me, in fact, she seems to be a little quicker than me. I can sense that she wants to push forward faster, but doesn't because I would drag her back.

The leaves and sticks graze over my skin as I dig my legs into the moist forest ground. "Should we take a break?" I ask, out of breath. My voice shakes as my body moves up and down. She nods and we slow down for a five minute break next to a small creek. I cup the clear water into my hands and gulp it down. 

My mom taught me the difference between safe and dangerous water. She said if the stream of water has a good two mile streak, it was fine. So far, Mahree and I are four miles deep and we noticed the stream of water almost three miles ago.

Mahree lies down on the ground and stares straight up at the canopy. Her body is drenched in sweat and her eyes have glazed over. If she weren't breathing as hard as he is, I would've figured she was dead. 

Right now, she looks more beautiful than ever. I've never thought about anyone romantically, which makes it especially hard to figure out if I should or shouldn't. Maybe that kiss on my forehead was an act of romance, but I can't tell. My mind is blank because of my inexperience. 

Without thinking at all, I move myself next to her and look down at her. What happens next is a blur. I press my face closer to hers and kiss her lips softly. I pull away quickly to make sure I haven't done something wrong. However, it seems as I have done right. She props herself up on one elbow and reconnects her lips with mine. I don't know how to feel about it. Her kiss tickles my lips a little, but her lips are so warm and inviting. I don't even feel like I'm lost in the woods anymore. Instead, I feel like I'm in my mom's garden, laying in the grass with Mahree. Her fingers treading over the pale underside of my forearm as we watch the sunrise over the treetops.