September 9th, 1968
--
The late afternoon sun dappled the road as it filtered through the overarching canopy of trees. I walked leisurely over the leaf-covered gravel, swinging my light school bag back and forth in a gentle arc.
I hadn't felt this relaxed in some time. Whether it was the peaceful back road that I'd decided to take home or the fact that I'd gotten an A+ on my Math test, whatever it was it had a gentle smile stretched across my face.
Closing my eyes I let the lovely sound of the blue bird drift through my ears -- the soft rustle of leaves sound tracking there echoing call. The bright sun had begun it's decent from the sky and it caused my shadow to follow me closely from behind.
My pace quickened a bit as I remembered that my mom was making her infamous cherry pie for dinner tonight -- the very thought of it causing my mouth to water. She never fails to make not only a warm meal, but a warm home as well.
I have a large family, two sisters and three brothers with parents who love us and each other more then the world. Together, we live on a farm down on the side of town, with cows and horses and chickens to spare. Living off farming doesn't give us the best amount of money in the world, but we all enjoy raising the animals and planting crops -- we're happy with what we have . . .
When I was a little girl, I saw some trees growing on a nearby cliff.
There were some on top growing straight up, but there were also some growing out. They were growing straight out towards the street; sideways. I'd pass it every day but never really thought about it.
But as I think about it right now . . . I think about what it was like, the feeling having to grow sideways like that. The tree wishes it could be at the top so it didn't have to work so hard to stay up. It gets bigger and bigger, more and more weight is out on the trunk of the tree; more pressure pulling the tree down. Finally the stress on the trunk is so great that it snaps.
The tree dies. It destroyed itself.
The tree made itself grow. It knew that no more pressure could be put on the trunk but still it kept growing.
It's always been the same routine.
Wake up at five and go milk the cows, go back inside and get ready for the day, eat breakfast and move on my way toward my small High School where I'll talk to the same people and the same teachers and the same friends about the same things again, and again, and again.
I know today's going to be the same as yesterday and tomorrow's going to be the same as today. That's how it'll always go.
I really shouldn't complain. I have an amazing group of friends and beautiful family that loves me -- but I just can't wait to graduate from school. There has to be more to the world then just living through it and milking animals. I want to move to the city and live in a small apartment where I can drink herbal tea and talk on old fashioned telephones. I want to fly to Paris and Sweden and Spain -- to have an adventure all on my own with nothing but the clothes on my back.
But, in reality . . . I'll probably just marry a nearby farmer, have ten kids and live happily ever after on the same soil I've been living on all my life . . .
Sometimes, I feel like that little tree; I think everyone does.
All of these pressures, all of this weight from the world can sometimes be so strong that we can snap and destroy ourselves. Sometimes it gets to be too much and we just have to let our selves bend and break.
In a way, I feel like I'm being bent a way that I don't want to go . . .
Crack!
I paused mid-step, turning to look behind me cautiously. "Hello?" I called, turning around fully to see if anyone was behind me.
"Max? Camilla? Beau?" My brother's and sister's names began to fall from my lips, "stop joking around!" I let out a small, nervous laugh as I looked around the trees that surrounded me -- leaving nothing but the long road that went on and on and on.
It was probably just an animal, Lolita . . .
I began to trek forward once again -- humming to myself quietly to calm my nerves.
But I couldn't shake the feeling in my gut. It felt like I was being watched. I could almost feel eyes drinking up my body from a distance and it made me uneasy, causing my heart to beat faster and faster with each step I took.
Crack!
I whirled around, letting out a loud shriek as large hands grasped the tops of my arms. My body began to wiggle around wildly as I tried to struggle out of the tight grasp on my arms. "Let go of me!" I screamed in desperation, my voice border line hysterical, "let go of me, please!"
"Lolita!"
My struggling stopped as a deep, scratchy voice filled my ears; stopping my crazy movements. "Wha-- " I looked up to see black eyes staring down at me with curiosity and immediately waves of relief came crashing down on me so hard I began to laugh breathlessly. "Tommy! Oh my goodness, you scared me so bad!"
I smiled up at the tall boy in front of me, taking in his cute dimpled face, wild mass of curly blonde hair and broad shoulders.
Tommy Savage goes to my school and sits next to me in English class -- though he doesn't talk much, I've always found him to be quite appealing . . .
The problem is, other kids aren't as open minded as I am about the quiet boy.
Tommy's father, Dan, was arrested seven years ago for sexually abusing a young ten year old girl. Ever since then, the people of our town have shunned the whole Savage family from our community -- blaming Tommy and his mother even though they had nothing to do with the disgusting assault of Mr. Savage.
My mother always told me to never judge a person because of there background, and I believe that no one should judge Tommy for his father's mistake.
"Sorry," he mumbled, letting go of my arms and looking around -- his dark eyes rimmed with red.
My brows furrowed and I set my hand on his arm, gently. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, not meeting my gaze
"What um," I removed my hand and began to play with my fingers, laughing again. "So, uh where are you going?"
"You've always been so nice to me."
"I'm sorry?" My brows furrowed at his statement.
"You've always been so nice to me." He repeated, finally looking me in the eye . . . and what I saw made me uneasy. "You never made fun of me or pushed me around like every one else. You always helped me up."
"Tommy," I whispered, taking a small step back. "Are you alright?"
"You told be once, that you were my friend," a laugh bounced up his throat in such a breathlessly hysterical manner that my breathing immediately paused, fear spilling into my veins. "You once gave me a smile and said that you liked me."
"Tommy, what's wrong."
"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, everyone loves you . . ." He took two steps forward until our chests were touching. "I-I . . ."
"Tom--!"
My scream was cut off as he raised his fist, sending it down on my cheek so hard it caused stars to fill my vision. "I'm sorry." I heard him whisper in my ear as he wrapped his arms around my thin waist, "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . ." his lips brushed against my head and I felt so dizzy I could barley see straight.
"Don't worry, Lolita . . ." he whispered again, "you're safe with me . . ."
My eyes began to shut as the world around me became darker, the sides of my vision closing in on me. I felt sick and my body slumped with no energy to stay up -- I could barely get my thoughts together . . .
"I love you . . ."
Everything became dark.
