Savage

Chapter Seven - Treyton

Chapter Seven

Treyton

I leave at eleven o'clock, which is much earlier than I usually go. It's more dangerous this way, but I couldn't stand another moment in that ungodly box. Besides, the entire neighborhood has been on lock down since eight and without power since ten. They should all be asleep by now, just like the obedient Lieth women they are.

The window slides open easily. Mom has been upstairs for hours, but I still pause to listen for any hint of movement. There is only quiet.

I push onto my hands and swing a leg onto the window sill. It's about a two foot drop from the ledge, close enough that I can stretch my foot to the ground. The sharp gravel pierces against my bare feet, but I am too distracted by the cool breeze to notice. It is cold and windy and pine-scented.

I inch the window shut and drop to my knees. My backyard leads to a downward slope of rocky crevices and eventually into the forest. It'd be my fastest route, but it's dark and there's too many invisible nooks and ledges for me to trip. I would most likely fall and break an ankle, leaving me stranded at the base of the hill. Instead, I go with my second option, which is a painfully long stretch through the backyards of my neighbors. To make matters worse, the first half is completely naked and exposed without a single tree.

I lower onto my stomach and attempt to slide through the grass without staining my white shirt. As soon as I'm out of the house's vicinity, my breath starts to rattle. Being away from the glass box is as frightening as it is liberating, and a part of me worries that if I leave, I will never find my way back. I close my eyes and try to shut out the panic. That's when I hear the loudest silence I've ever heard. The quiet of a forest is vastly different than the quiet of a house. It is quiet, yet loud, all at once. Water rushes through the nearby river, tree branches scratch together, a deep-throated frog croaks. And somehow, this quiet loudness calms my nerves.

I look to the nearest house and check for signs of movement. When I find none, I slowly rise into a half-crouch. This lawn is the first with trees, a sparse but ever-present line of forest to separate me from the prying eyes of society. I creep sideways, never removing my eyes from the house, and slip into the trees. I bite back a curse as the grass abruptly shifts to sharp rocks. My first few steps are slow as my feet adjust to the harsh terrain; but then, I start to run. And running outside is so much better than jogging on a never-ending strip of plastic.

I run my fingers over every tree I pass, craving the dense feel of bark. When the slope becomes less severe, I charge down the hill with faster movement than before. My shoulder occasionally knocks against a tree base, but I don't let it slow me. Nothing can slow me when I'm out here.

My sprint ends at the river bank, which lies only feet from the hill's bottom. I drop my feet into the cool water and drop my head back. River water is much better than tap; just as wind is better than air conditioning and grass is better than carpet.

It's been too long since my last forest visit. There's a cave not far beyond this river, but tonight, I don't feel like exploring. I only sit back and stir my legs through the water, enjoying this sparse moment of utter freedom. Nature is too somnolent, however, and I soon realize it's time to go back home. I am too tired for any more freedom.

I slowly trudge up the hill and stare at the stars as I walk. My attention remains on the sky until I reach the hilltop, when suddenly, a dim light cuts through the black street. I drop onto my knees before I can process the source. And why I do, I feel my stomach tightening beyond function. It's coming from the new neighbors' house; and though dim, the light means someone is awake. Someone could be watching.

When the light swivels, an unprecedented panic rolls through my gut. I crank my body sideways and clasp my head as I tumble down the hill. The trees are everywhere, smacking my knees and shoulders and head. But I don't let my momentum slow until I reach the bottom. There, I wait for more than an hour. Head down. Breath heavy. Eyes pinched.

I don't want to move. I don't want to do anything. But eventually, I realize I have no choice but to run.