Finding the Light

The First Time

Jocelyn laid in bed staring at the ceiling. She didn't know where she would go but she knew that she had to get out. She had stayed far to long. She hadn't seen her family in nearly a year, but she knew they would take her in; wouldn't they? They had no idea what was going on, but they knew that she had changed and it was because of this man. She just had to get out. He finished his second bottle about an hour ago so he was fully passed out next to her. She gathered her courage and slipped out from under the covers making sure to move as slowly as possible. He may have been passed out but that didn't mean he couldn't wake up. She hurried and grabbed her suitcase from under the bed. She had most of her things packed, almost all her clothing, what little jewelry she had and also the small amount of money she had been able to hide from him. She left everything else behind. She slowly padded down the stairs with her case, small bag, and her shoes in her hand so as not to make any noise. The last thing she grabbed before leaving this house forever was the one photo she had of her genuinely happy, she paused only for a moment to look at the girl she used to be. The girl she was right before she met chuck; this girl was a stranger to her now. She would never be this girl again. That's when it hit her; starring at this photo of herself Jocelyn knew that she was forever changed. No one would ever be able to get passed her walls. She would never let anyone else in. She would take control from now on. She slipped silently through the door and ran down the street. She was accompanied only by the street-lamps and the occasional car passing by. No one stopped. No one wondered why a 21 year old girl was running down the road at 3am with a suitcase. She knew then that no one cared. She fell even deeper into her resolve to never let anyone else make her feel anything ever again.

I woke up covered in sweat. It has happened again, I have this same dream on this same night every year. It's now been three years since I ran away. And every year I have the same dream about that night. It's a lot easier for me to handle than the other nightmares, because at least in this one I wake up when he catches me. I take a deep breath and sit the rest of the way up in bed. I need to calm down, my heart is racing and I'm still sweating. Closing my eyes I take five deep breaths making sure to hold them in for a full eight seconds. Next I take in my surroundings. My bedroom is small and plain; there is my desk in the corner with my laptop and all my papers, my chair and lamp by the window where I read at night, my dresser with the few photos I keep on it, and my goldfish Albert swimming in circles. My family and friends stare at me with their smiling faces, and I take another deep breath. Everything is in its place. Everything is right. I am safe. I am not there anymore. This always happens when I have these nightmares; every year it is the same. The one good thing I can say is that this one ends before anything truly bad happens. The others alway end with his hands around my neck. I shudder, throw the blankets off me and get up to stretch.  I turn and look at my clock. It's 7:00am, that means I can still catch the early morning yoga class before I have to start getting work done. It's Saturday, but I still like to read through a few chapters and write some notes just to keep me ahead. I grab my yoga clothes and my bag and slowly walk into the hallway. I don't want to wake my roommates because I know they got in late. They really like to party lately. We all graduated college a few months ago, and they're still celebrating. We're all late bloomers, we started college late, so we graduated at 24 instead of the usual 22. I love my friends, I really do, but I just wish that they would slow down a bit. I don't like to party, I'd rather stay home with a good book. I'm not a prude by any means, I drink, I go out, I just don't like to stumble in at five in the morning and not remember what I did the night before. Cayla's door is cracked open and I take a peek in. She is passed out laying across her bed in last nights dress. She is my best friend, and I honestly don't know what I'd do without her, but she never knows when to say no. She has to much heart and far to much compassion for people she's just met. One night she brought a guy home from a party and after she'd fallen asleep he rummaged through her purse and stole her wallet. When I woke her up after I'd caught him, she asked how much money he needed, gave it to him and then called him a cab. When I asked her why she didn't call the police, she said that he must have needed the money more than she did. I wish that were true, but he probably needed it to get his next fix; he had the tell-tale scars all over his arms. I'm not sure how Cayla didn't notice them, but she never does. She truly is an angel and a kinder person than I.