Purged

Prologue

Prologue

     He was home. I could hear him, opening the door. Stomping down the hall. Breathing heavily. I could imagine his hands, oh God his hands, that touched and pulled and hurt me, the hands that forced me to do terrible things. He’ll want to touch me, I know it, I know it. He’ll hurt me, he’ll touch me, ruin me.

     My heart thuds painfully in my chest, my body urging me to run, to run and run and run until I collapse. Biting my lip, I stifle a moan. I tremble and back up into a corner, eyes fixed on the door. The footsteps pause.

     I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, I’ll break, when he touches me I’ll shatter and fall. I’ll crack into a thousand pieces, and they’ll scatter and fade. I can’t ignore. I can’t leave. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

     Why isn’t mother home? Why does she never stay? He won’t touch me when she’s here. Why can’t she stop drinking and come back?

     He pounds on the door. “Let me in little slut.”

     A squeak escapes into the air. I can’t do this.

     He rattles the handle. The entire door shudders and quakes, more than I do. “Open the door!”

     I cover my face with my hands, little choking noises squeezing through my throat. My eyes are wet but tears don’t fall.

     I can’t do this.

     He bellows, an inarticulate sound of rage. I can hear him fiddling with the lock. Imagine his hands, his terrible hands, turning it from the other side of the door.

     I scream, a shrill noise, and think, think, trying to find a way to end this, end the suffering.

     He curses violently and hits the door. I shy away, another shriek flitting from me. I desperately scan the room for anything, anything that could help me.

     The windows.

     Swaying slightly I get to my feet and skitter over to the windows, thrusting the curtains apart. I hear his footsteps back in the hall, tromping over, him muttering threats. Inadvertently, I cower and yelp, painful images of what he’d do to me if he knew I was trying to escape blowing around my mind. He’s getting a key, he’s getting a key and he’s going to come in and touch me and I’m going to shatter--

     Shaking, I pull back the blinds and peer outside into the backyard. The dark, thick forest looms forward, a few yards away from the window. So close, if I can just get in there I’ll be--

     He thumps on the door, roaring for me to let him in. My last chance before he forces his way in.

     I try to push the window up, but it’s locked. Reaching upwards, I tug on the little levers that lock it into place, pulling harder and harder as they refuse to turn.

     He stops beating the door. I hear him fumbling with something, mumbling under his breath.

     I push the locks all the way back and grab the bottom of the window. It doesn’t push up smoothly, hitching and refusing to go further.

     There’s a clicking noise as he sticks the key into the lock.

     I shove the window up, throwing my weight up against it and forcing it open. I have to get away, I have to escape. I can’t break—

     The door opens with a bang as it slams against the door. He stomps in, spewing profanities.

     I propel myself through the window, wriggling my way through the gap I had made and trying, so hard to get out.

     He grabs my ankle. Starts pulling me back in.

     I scream.

     He shouts.

     I claw my way forward. I refuse to go back. I need to run. To run.

     He violently heaves, trying to drag me back. I reach back and kick him with my other leg, scramble completely out the window into the flowerbed below. I land hard into the dirt and dead bushes.

     Without looking back, I get to my feet and run, run into the woods. I can hear him yelling.

     Fresh air slaps me in the face. My heart thuds harder, my mind expects punishment. I feel little scratches on my legs where the bushes had scratched me. I run harder, into the trees. I weave between trees. Jump over roots. Put as much distance between me and that horrid place.

     Getting away.

     A smile touches my lips.

     I’m free. I’m free.

     I jump over a fallen tree, lungs screaming for air. I don’t care. I run. I’m free.

     Up ahead the trees are thinning, beautiful sunlight streaming through the dark. I run faster, my lungs aching. I have no plan, no idea what I’ll do, but I’m free. I can do anything.

     I can live.

     Looking up, I run into the beautiful sunlight, the sky bright and blue. The sun burns into my skin, and I feel so alive and—

     I’m tipping over, my bare scratched feet touching nothing but air. I look and see blurs, of green and brown and then—

     Nothing.