Flying Without Wings

Chapter 1

There are times where I just have to run. I can't help it. My feet take over, my arms start pumping, and I'm gone. Flying away.

It was one of those times.

My feet crunched over frosted leaves with curling brown edges while a chilling wind sent needles against my face. The moon cast its spotlight down on me through the branches like I was the main actor in a play. I couldn't hear anything besides the blood roaring in my ears and my heavy breathing.

I stumbled over and over again, the darkness limiting my vision. The canopy above my head thickened and the shadows swarmed closer and closer until the moon was gone. Tree roots and stones sent me sprawling, shooting pain through my arms and ankles, but I kept going. Jagged branches whipped at me, tearing my clothes and leaving stinging cuts on my skin. I could feel pain everywhere on my body, but I kept plowing forward, fear pushing me on.

I could feel my legs gradually slowing and my lungs aching, but I kept forcing forward. I just had to get away; put as much distance as possible between me and him. The wind whisking in my ears shrieked at me, Run! Run! Run!

I swerved around trees, ducked under branches, weaved around bushes. My hands burrowed deep in my pockets, trying to find some warmth in the thin lining of my sweatshirt.

I had slowed to a trot when I finally stopped. My heart raced and my lungs were burning. I sat down on a creaking log and tried to catch my breath.

I was deep in the heart of the woods. Tall oaks stood guard close together and bushes with scraggly branches shivered between them. Little light penetrated through the thick cluster of branches and shadows lurked everywhere, watching me.

My lungs were still desperately sucking in air, but my heart and calmed down. The glowing green digits on my watch displayed midnight. He wouldn't crash until two. Alright then, I was here till two.

I sat as still as a statue on the log, my arms hugging myself and feet trembling from fear and running. My ears were pricked and eyes alert. I knew that it was very unlikely he would follow me, but just to be sure.

My ears and shoulders finally relaxed after picking up no sign of pursuit. I let my arms fall limply to my sides and the tremor in my legs had died down a bit. A sigh of relief escaped my lips and I rubbed the new purple marks on my arm that would soon form a line of bruises and cuts.

I began to rewind the events of my horrible night.

"Murderer!" he hollered and threw a chair at me. I nimbly stepped to the side and it crashed onto the wall, splintering into pieces.

"You murderer, you ruined my life!" he spat in my face. I could smell the alcohol in his breath. His hands clutched my shoulders, nails digging into my skin.

"I. Hate. You!" he said each word with a violent shake that almost had my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I tore away from his grasp, pain biting my shoulders. I ran towards the front door while he stumbled behind me. He caught up with me in the living room, his feet pounding against the wooden floor.

I whirled around to face him and slowly walked backwards like I was trying not to frighten a wild animal. My back pressed against the front door as he slowly progressed on me, breathing harshly and eyes clouded with alcohol and rage. I fumbled for the doorknob behind my back. My fingers brushed the cold metal and I tried to twist it open. Locked.

My eyes widened in alarm and he cackled at me. "You're not going anywhere!" Panic began to jumble my thoughts as he stepped closer.

Murder glinted in his eyes as he snarled, "You deserve to die! I will never forgive you!"

He lunged for my throat, but the alcohol threw him off. He collided into a small table we kept by the door instead and his shoulder rammed into the wall.

I took the chance, and raced to the back door. I tried to pull it open but it was also locked. With trembling hands, I yanked the keys off the hook next to the door.

"I'm coming for you!" he bellowed from the other room and I heard the unmistakable sound of the table being thrown across the room.

I fumbled with the keys, trying to calm the violent shaking in my hands. I found the right key and jabbed it into the socket as feet thumped alarmingly close. I struggled for a minute as I tried to twist them to the side. The door finally clicked and I flung it open just as dirty fingernails closed onto my hair. I bolted out the door, pain blossoming in my scalp as I left some of my dirty blonde hair in his hands.

He shouted and cursed after me as I disappeared into the woods that flanked the back of our house. I melted into the shadows of the woods and zig zagged through the trees to make it harder for him to track me.

I brought a stop in the flashback playing in my mind and burrowed my head into my arms. My dad's voice ringed through my head, shouting "Murderer!" over and over again.

My mother had died giving birth to me. I had never seen her or heard her voice. My dad hated me for her death. He said it was all my fault and that I didn't deserve to be her daughter. If it wasn't for me she would still be alive.

I had seen pictures of my mom. She was so pretty. She had wavy blond hair, long and beautiful. She had bright blue dancing eyes and a lovely, dazzling smile.

When I was younger, I would lay huddled under the blankets in my room late at night after my dad had went to bed, drunk and sullen. Underneath the layers of blanket, while tears of pain from my recent beating slipped down my cheeks, I would open my lips and whisper her name into the darkness like it was a magical incantation that would bring her back alive. Celina.

I would drift off to sleep with her name on my lips and I would dream about the happy family we would be if my mother hadn't died.

Sitting on the log, with my head resting in the crook of my elbow, I began nodding off, catching small glimpses of my mother before startling awake at the sound of a twig snapping or a wind rattling the naked branches above my head.

Tired and cold, I stretched my arms and rubbed my eyes that were stinging with the need to sleep. I checked my watch. It glared 2:30. I got to my feet and shook my legs that were buzzing from not being used. I felt frozen; it was so cold. Muscles aching, I began the walk home.

When I opened the screen back door, it was almost three. My dad never locked me out when I ran off for one or both of two reason. One, he was too drunk to realize. And two, he didn't want the cops after him. That's how I kinda knew he wouldn't kill me either.

But, to be honest, I wouldn't really mind it. I mean, I would be able to escape this torture I was thrust into day after day and I would finally get the chance to see my mother's gorgeous face and shining blue eyes in person.

I did seriously consider suicide two years back, but I eventually listened to the small part of me that didn't want to die. Even though I had a difficult life, there were still things that I didn't want to leave. Little things that brightened my day and made me happy. Like the little stream behind my house, the gorgeous sunsets I could see from my window sometimes, the soft beautiful rains we were blessed with often, or the morning choruses of the early birds outside.

I slinked up the stairs, becoming one with the shadows that flitted on the walls. I was careful to avoid all the steps that I knew would growl, alerting an intruder's presence. I knew my dad had completely passed out and I could bang a spoon on the bottom of a pot and he wouldn't hear it, but I still kept on my toes, paranoid that every sound was my dad creeping up on me.

I tiptoed into my room and slowly and silently slid the door closed. With a soft click, I locked the door. I didn't dare turn on the light and changed my clothes underneath the puddles of silver, glistening moonlight that pooled on my bedroom floor.

My mother's name meant moon goddess so I liked to believe that she sent down dapples of her beautiful light for me; to brighten things up a bit when I needed it.

Yawning, I slipped under my blanket and set my alarm for six. Tucking the blanket under my chin, I let my drooping eyes get their wish and dreamed of the perfect family I never had.