Faith

Rolling with the punches

I was starving, I must have not eaten for at least four days. I daren't ask the man for food, for fear of abuse yet again. The door opened, but I never looked up from the floor. my chin was touched, and raised to meet the eyes of the stranger that stood in front of me. He was only a teenage boy, a little older than me, with freckles, dark brown hair, and blue eyes that were bluer than the sea.

"Co'mon. There's not much time." he grabbed my hand, pulled me off the couch, and dragged me out the door, without my consent.

"Are you crazy?" I said, "He'll catch us!"

"Nonsense." He replied. "Well be out of here before th..."

I gasped. He looked down, and clutched his bleeding chest. he dropped to the ground as of already dead. he stared into my tear filled eyes and said, "Go."

I kissed him on the cheek, said a prayer, and ran. Ran and ran beyond the point that I couldn't feel my feet. I lost my shoes near the boy, but that didn't matter. I looked back, and my kidnapper was chasing me. I turned around a sharp bend, hoping I would loose him, but no such luck. I was cornered, no where to run. I tried going back, but my kidnapper was still there, waiting for me, staring at me. I backed up slowly, until I ran into a fence behind me, too high to climb. A tree was to my left, and my right, the corner of the wooden femce. I panicked, frightened by the thought of getting killed, and jumped into the tree. I didn't know what I was thinking, there was no way he would let me get away with that, but I still climbed. He was unable to, for he was too big. I climbed to the top, and stayed there, only to be shot at by his rifle. I dodged left, right, and left again. I lost my balance, falling to the ground far below me. Hitting every branch. I fell on the dirt with a THUD. Everything was blurred, but I saw the silhouette of the man tower above me. He lifted me up and draped me over his shoulder. I was unable to move. I couldn't scream for help, nothing worked. It was as if my mind left my body, and could think, but not speak for itself.

I was thrusted against the coach, laying there helpless. The man took a baseball bat and beat me. Hit after hit, I took them in like battle scars. Bruise after bruise, it was as if my while body was numbing. The man stepped away and stared at me, like he had accomplished something great. He dropped the bat, and walked out. I lay there alone, weeping, whimpering, with broken bones and blood, blood everywhere around me. I felt light headed, in no condition to get to my feet. I was in a haze of my own imagination. In my numbness, I felt no pain.