The Fourteenth Year

Chapter 1: Helga's House

"When people tell you to 'get lost', take it as a compliment. There are so many new things to discover when you're lost."

-Willow

First, I heard a snap, then there was a sharp sting on my left cheek; that's when I remembered where I was and what I was doing-I was running. Like a frightened gazelle, I chased the wind through the dense woods that lie behind my prison. The only thing I could hear was the rapid beating of my heart and the autumn leaves crunching beneath my feet. But, what horrified me...was what I could see. I could see...her.Short, quick glimpses of her sullen being following moments behind. I couldn't get away fast enough.

Mimi Flo used to tell me that if I didn't keep my head on straight, I'd be lost for good. Somehow though, 'getting lost' seemed...I don't know...almost desirable. I mean, what if getting lost is the only way that I can find myself? What if the walls of this universe have closed in on me and I no longer fit in here? I am a wanderer; trekking the soil beneath me with unsatisfied hunger.

I.

Need.

More.

In hungry pursuit, I continued sprinting through the trees with all the strength that I could muster. That is, until my boot caught onto a tree root and sent me tumbling to the ground and making a gash on my elbow. I writhed in pain as I wiped off the dirt and rocks.

"Ahh!" I cried, "she'll find me!"

Quickly, I sprawled to my feet and scanned the perimeters. Something white flashed before me: the end of a lace dress at seven o'clock...hiding behind a tree. She sees me. I break into a run once more. It's just a little bit further to safety...I hope.

Someone once told me that there's an abandoned asylum a couple of miles into these woods. It was once a home for hundreds of mentally retarded and disabled orphans. But, that was over 100 years ago. All that's left now is a vacant edifice of cinderblock and a thousand tales of horror. Helga's House,as they call it, was the landfill for society's unwanted children. Children who combed dark alleys for food, whose ears only heard silence, whose eyes only saw night, whose legs twisted with confusion, and whose minds were trapped in a world of chaos. These, were outcasts. And now, a hundred years later, their cries still echo from the lifeless walls of Helga's House.

I can't help but feel that, in some uncanny way, I have a connection to that stone cold memorial of darkness. I mean, what if all those children who had 'lost it', mentally, had, in actuality, 'found it'? I don't know; all I know is that there are things that people in this world don't get. It's like everyone lives in a box of their own. And me...I have no box. That is why I am lost. And that is why I am running.

Today, particularly, is my fourteenth birthday and I want nothing more than to resign myself to the caressing arms of the townspeople's nightmare. Today, I will either find myself or lose myself completely. Either way, I will not be trapped in a house with my Nantucket cousins for the rest of my living days. And besides, I need to get rid of her.

Just go north. I play the words over and over in my head. North:that's how to get to Helga's House. My legs are burning like fire but I keep running. More than anything, I want to stop and catch my breath...but I can't.

After a few more strides I came to a break in the trees. As if emerging from a dark closet into a well lit room, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brilliant rays of sunlight. In front of me was a vast clearing of dense shrubbery and overgrown weeds. And there, standing with arrogant mischeif in the middle of the meadow, were the ruins of Helga's House. The front door veiled behind a growth of honeysuckle, bolted shut.