Freedom (No More Updates)

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I look at my watch, it is 8:30. There is still an hour left before Mother leaves for work.

Since I can’t go home yet for another hour, I decide sitting in the park would be the best place to sit and wait until I can return home.

My journey to the nature park was as uneventful as a cat sitting on a windowsill, but when I finally reached my destination I was happy to be out in the forest. No one ever comes to this park. I think, no, I know it’s because of me. Because I’m the one who sits here every day just thinking and wondering through the forest. No one wants to come to this park because I like it, no one likes me; therefore, no one goes here. I’ve explored these woods too many times, I know every inch of it by heart, well most of it at least. There is a certain point where you cannot venture off any further because the society doesn’t want you going that far. The security cameras make sure you don’t. If you venture off into the forbidden territories a loud siren goes off and officials surround you within seconds, trapping you. Once they have you, you’re in jail for who knows how long.

I think about how easy it would be too just step over the line and get sent to jail. Sometimes I wonder if rotting away in jail would be better than my current situation. Of course, I have been sent to jail once before, but I wasn’t even there for an hour before some mysterious person bailed me out.

Why should I stay here? Why should I stick around when I know that my chances are probably better out in the wilderness?

“Because you don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Who said that?” I spin around so quickly I lose balance and gravity gets the better of me.

I lie face down in a mud puddle.

I push my arms up and with half my body out of the sludge, I spit out all the muck that had travelled its way into my mouth with disgust. I have never tasted something so horrible in a long while.

I look up to see a chuckling boy extend his hand towards me. I stare at the hand blankly, not knowing what to do.

“Here, I’ll help you up.”

I grab onto his hand and he hoists me up. I can feel all the clay slid down my body and a great deal of weight is lifted.

“What? No thanks?” he says.

“Thanks... was I talking out loud?”

“Sure were,” I feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “my name’s Ryan, what’s yours?”

“Lily.”

“Don’t say much, do you?”

“No, not really.” Why is he talking to me, why is he looking at me and not cowering, not afraid of what he sees? “You don’t want to be talking to me.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” he says with caution.

“I’m the city freak! No one talks to me; they just write me notes telling me to kill myself. No one talks to me because I’m different. Because apparently, if you talk to me, it means I’ve taken over your soul and am using it to do terrible things. And the list goes on.”

He stares at me, just stares, with a blank expression. Finally he starts laughing.

“That is hilarious.” He said once he could catch his breath. “Why aren’t you laughing?”

“Because it’s not a joke, people think I can’t hear, they say these things and have no idea that I know. Even if they did know that I know, they couldn’t care less that it is killing me inside. I question myself and my existence everyday because of them.”

“Oh, wow. I had no idea. But hey, at least you have your family, right?” I see sympathy in his eyes. I haven’t seen that in a long while.

“Not right. My family consists of one mother who beats me.”

He says nothing, he just looks at me with those eyes so full of sympathy and care, and for a minute I think he might just say something or do something s uplifting to my heart and soul, but all that is whisked away when he turns around and walks away. Just like everybody else.