Perrie

Perrie

The hands ticked timelessly around the clock as she waited for midnight. As the clock clanged on the midnight hour she heard the faint snores from Mama Mildred and Papa Edmund. As she began to work, she listened for any signs that someone was awake. Her mind wandered as she easily picked the lock. Flashes of her screaming, a thick trail of blood trickling down her back. Another strike from the black whip, as black as her mothers cruel, dead eyes. Dodging the knifes and vases being thrown at her. Screaming and kicking as her father tried to suffocate her with pillows because she made him look bad. She remembered the day at school she saw it. Not like any other book with their dark brown leather covers and dull black title. No, this one was a deep mauve with stark white pages and a golden title. She was drawn into its story devouring it in two whole days. This book drew her to her final decision. That she must getaway from this hell hole. She must escape. This book was called Along the Road.

**************

With a heavy click, the chain sprung padlocked her to her bed sprung open with a dull clunk. This was not the first time she had tried to run away. She tied back her dark brown hair in a low plait. Her eyes flashed angrily as she gazed upon her room. She saw no evidence that she had ever lived there. All she could see was shards of broken glass and patches of dry blood marking the walls and floorboards. She packed her bag with her clothes. As she took off her night dress it took all her willpower not to scream out in agony as the sharp zip scratched across her new sores. Her hands caressed the red raw skin on her back. She washed her back with cold water and put on her clothes. Grabbing her bag which she had filled with food, clothes and medicine, she grabbed her grandmothers locket, a handful of silver coins and wrote a note to her parents.

I've left you forever, I have no regrets and I never want to see you again

Perrie

She left lightly closing the door not wanting to alarm the city guards. My town was cruel and no child had ever escaped except for one. His posters were placed in every shop and stuck in every street. So old that you can't even read the words. But the picture was still intact. The boy with the crazed curls and emerald eyes. There are rumours that he was a pickpocket as well, with a smile that could charm the sun out of the sky. "Beware" the whispers went, "Beware, there are good thieves and bad, but that boy is neither. He is selfish, cruel and cold under those charming layers..."