Runaway

I

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*Crack*

I froze.
Don't move, B. Don't move.

*Crack*
Another stick cracked.

It's probably just an animal, B. No, but what if it's not? I need to know whether to sigh or run.

I very slowly start to make my way to the window of my very well hidden tree "house".

I use the term "house" very loosely considering its just pieces of wood nailed up in a very high tree hidden by branches and leaves. It's small but cozy. Definitely not something you can see from the ground unless you look very closely. There are pairs of nails that are nailed into the trunk going all the way down. Small enough to be unnoticeable unless very close but big enough to support my weight. It'll be hard for them to find me here.

I sit with my back against the open "window" and take a deep breath. I slowly turn my body and I carefully poke my head out to see what's been stepping on sticks.

I've gathered sticks and laid them all around my tree. It's sort of like an alarm system or a dinner bell. It alerts me if there's an animal to hunt or if it's a person.

I try my hardest not to go into town or leave the woods for that matter. Sure, I have to make a few runs to get things like water, toothpaste, and girly things like tampons. Other than that, there's no exceptions. Maybe if I can't catch anything to eat I'll run to the convenience store but those are on rare occasions. I can't be noticed and I definitely cannot interact with anyone. It's too much of a risk.

I look down at the ground through all of the branches and leaves. I can't see anything. I carefully make my way to the opening that lets me enter and exit my "humble abode". I carefully move the piece of wood blocking the entrance and take a look.

*Crack*

I let out a sigh of relief.
It's just a deer, B. Maybe I should go down and keep it for dinner?

Ironic isn't it? My name is Bambi and I kill deer to survive.

I grab my spear-like stick with one of my knives tied to the tip. I sling my bag over my shoulder and check my waist to make sure my other knife is secured on my belt. I've got everything I need.

I very slowly start to climb down the trunk until I reach a height where I can spear the deer from.

Good, it doesn't see me.

I used to hate doing this. When I was first on the run I was reckless enough to go into town to get food everyday. I've learned that that's way too risky now. Once I realized that it's not safe I taught myself how to hunt. Killing innocent animals was so hard for me that I'd cry after every kill. Now, it doesn't really faze me as much. I've done this so many times for so long, but I still can't help but tear up when it's an animal like a deer. I just remind myself that it's either me or the deer. I need to survive.

I spot the deer and pull my arm back. Making sure my aim is for its heart, I take a deep breath and throw the spear.

Great aim, B.

The deer falls to the ground. As I start making my way down the rest of the tree I hear a gasp.

I froze.
Shit.