Cora

CHAPTER 1: PRESENT

It's an early Sunday morning as the sun peaks just above the vast hills of New Hampshire and reflects down onto the lake, directly into my window. My German Shepherd, Jack, picks his head up off my pillow, looks out the window, and lets out a little bark.

"Five more minutes please, Jack," I shoved my face deeper into the pillow to try and shield myself from the sun. Last night was the first time in a while that I was able to get a full night's sleep. Past nights I would wake up constantly, tossing and turning which would result in a little grunt of irritation from Jack. He would move off the bed and onto the blanket I placed on the floor for him.

I peek above the pillow at Jack. He looks at me adamantly, wagging his tail and tilting his head to the side.

"Alright, alright. I'm up." I slowly pull back the covers and swing my legs off the side of the bed. Jack gets up and runs to the kitchen, waiting for me to take him out for our daily run. This is the one thing that clears my head after everything that has happened.

I walk into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face in an attempt to rid myself of negative thoughts that are bound to resurface. The weather is finally warm enough that I slip on my jogger pants, a t-shirt, and sneakers, and pull my hair back into a tight ponytail. I rub my face a couple times to wake myself up, and then walk out into the hallway. I glance into the study and at the door that contains nail-sized scratches that has turned into a thousand splintered wood pieces. I close my eyes and shake my head trying to clear my mind again, knowing I have to replace that door. I walk into the kitchen to see Jack sitting patiently by the door with his tongue hanging out. I smile as he follows me out the front door.

The second I step out of the house, the scent of fresh air hits my nose and I breathe in deeply, enjoying the summer air. I look to go left towards the park and then shake my head and turn around. Maybe I didn't sleep as well as I thought I did. I take a right out onto the street and set into my easy pace, with Jack by my side. We run along the edge of the forest that follows to the pond behind my house. I smile at other joggers in passing and Jack remains close.

We reach the water's edge and follow it until we end up underneath the bridge. The underpass is about 100 meters long but I am used to running underneath it. Jack stays close to me as we reach the opening and continue underneath. The sound of my feet as I run and the clicking of Jack's nails echo throughout the walls of the tunnel. I pick up my speed and Jack runs slightly ahead of me until we finally reach the opening and continue back along the edge of the pond.

Runs like these is where I am able to clear my mind. About halfway around the pond, we stop at an opening in the woods to stretch. A boulder sits at the edge of the water and I use that to stretch my legs. Jack goes to the water and begins to drink from it.

Slightly out of breath, I try and slow my heart rate. I sit down on the rock that looks out over the lake. The sun has fully risen and the colors in the sky have turned a bright yellow and orange. I rub my hands on my legs but flinch at the soreness of it. In that second, I am snapped back to reality and feel the need to run again; my muscles seizing with the thoughts flooding back into my memory.

Without warning, I get up and set off running. Jack lifts his head up from the water and darts after me. We continue around the pond and time passes as I begin focusing on my breathing and relaxing my muscles again. Before I realize it, we are coming back up the hill to my house and Jack runs ahead of me, waiting at the door. I slow down and begin to walk as I realize that I am in deep need of a shower and a coffee. My bones feel alive as the adrenaline courses through me. But I know it will not last long.

I let Jack inside the house and fill his water bowl. I make sure to lock the front door behind me and take off my shoes. I slip into the shower and turn the temperature so hot as if to burn off the negative thoughts from my mind. Once I step out and into the mist-filled room, I wipe away the mirror to look at myself.

I am still young and healthy, no major wrinkles on my face. I felt as if, being 28, I would start to see some sign of aging. I am at least thankful I passed the acne stage in my life that seemed to last forever.

However, that was before. Now when I look at myself, I see dark bags under my eyes and a deep crease in my eyebrows. My muscles are still toned, but that is the only young thing about me left.

Since I rescued Jack, our training sessions always started with a run and I guess I just never got sick of it. That allowed me to stay toned and fairly small. While standing in the bathroom, I slowly remove the towel to look down at my thighs, but I am almost scared to look. The bruises are pretty much gone, just a few dark brown marks still prominent on my skin. My waist is the worst though. The bruises are slowly fading but the scar is still very much there. The doctor said with time it will get smaller and less noticeable but will most-likely never completely disappear.

The warmer the weather gets, the more I will be forced to wear shorts. Luckily by then, the bruises will be gone and it will be like it never happened. Except it did happen. The memory will never go away, but constantly be there to remind me of that night, to mock me so I never forget.

I have grown this involuntary habit of laying my hand on my stomach as if to protect it from something that already happened.

I finally wrap the towel back around me, walk out of the bathroom, and head to my room to change. Jack sees me emerge and immediately whines as he follows me. He is still so protective of me that he never leaves my side.

After I am fully dressed, I decided to make myself some coffee. I walk into the kitchen and allow the coffee maker to heat up, while I make eggs and toast. I fill Jack's bowl of food, put it down by my feet at the table, and we eat together.

I take a deep breath and slowly look around my empty house. I see the sad plant by the window dying despite the sunlight shining right in, the dishes sitting in the sink still not clean, and then the fridge with the single magnet and piece of paper attached. The paper contains a list of psychologists that my mother recommended I go see. I have yet to make an appointment. I sigh and look away, knowing that that is not going to happen.

My mother has been pestering me to see someone, saying that secluding myself in my home is not going to make things any easier or make my problems go away. But I really don't need some middle-aged loon with a notepad telling me how to "fix" things or "get over" things. I am fine on my own and am handling things the way I want to handle them.

After breakfast, I get up, throw my dishes into the already overflowing sink, and rip the piece of paper off the fridge. I crumple it up in my hands and throw it deep into the trash.