Mind on pause

Mac tíre

I had been walking, far from home, with a bloody nose and a black eye. The sun was covered by clouds and the thought of how lucky I was hung over my head. My father was tired this day, his beatings weren't as harsh, and I managed to escape the 'home' while he lay in a routine whiskey blackout. It was a windy day, holding myself and shaking violently in the usual weather as a result of bony limbs; This was due to the prohibition of eating much. My parents decided to live closest to Ireland's greatest hill, A church and graveyard sharing space with a tall lighthouse. 

For long days, I walked absent-mindedly between vast fields and dry woodlands. As I stumbled over my own feet, I held myself with the hope of finding food before I dropped. Drive was kept in my mind since I had been blessed with a beautiful river, hydrating and sustaining my starved voyage. Suddenly my consciousness recovered as I was yanked downhill. My legs folded over my head as I rolled, my body tumbling mercilessly over rocks and a stick penetrating out of my side when I finally stopped. The stick wasn't too deep so I decided to pull it out, a loud whine echoing through Ireland it seemed. 

Blood trickled down the wound and I gripped my left side, groaning as it stung greatly. The blood had spread throughout my thin shirt, stopping from the pressure and deathly weather of this night.  The conditions my body had endured forced my body to shut down unwillingly; My eyes shut and I lay there, on the bottom of the hill, the heat leaving my body and my skin going pale.

Hours went by and the clouds were gone. my eyes slowly opened to a sky of beautiful stars. A low hum released from me, my body unharmed and my mind calm. It almost felt like a dream, seeing the stars glow so brightly. I gulped as my brain recovered from its shock. Laying still, my back tickled as if ants were running laps on it. I held my breath as I forced my weighted body up in agony, limping uselessly as my eyes locked on a cottage in the distance. 

Inaudible murmuring emitted from my dry throat as I called for help, the pain in my chest drowning the attempts I made. I began to walk a bit faster, my foot unexpectedly sinking into a hole in the ground. Unfortunate pain shot through my ankle and I screamed, a yelp following as I fell violently. I then heard the door to the cottage open and a man's voice asking me if I was okay. I had been sitting on my knees, looking up at him with tears in my eyes and an expression of despair.

"I've got you, lets get out of this cold weather yeah?" He said with a strong Irish accent, his voice soft and soothing.

 My arm pulled around his neck and my left side was gripped by his rough hand, causing me to yelp with a shaken voice. The man didn't let go of my wound, my breath held until we made it inside. The strength in my legs ran out and for the first time, I was held up and supported. I then passed out shortly after being set down on a comfy bed with soft wool sheets, asleep within seconds and under a slumber spell for about 5 hours, waking up from prolonged stomach pain. I sat up, glancing down at a clean and clothed malnourished body. The thought of how I arrived in this position and my alert awakening was put to a halt after sudden dizziness stirred my mind, holding my head with my eyes shut and slowly laying back down. I had on clothes that were two times the size of my body, and my skin was tight as if I had taken a full shower in my slumber. I lifted the elastic band of the adult shorts and was confused by the same underwear, now dirt free, I departed home with. I was clean from head to toe, bandaging on the inflamed wound on my side. Both my ankles and wrists had wraps, covering past scars of barbwire that hooked into my skin.

The man walked in with a wooden bowl, my dizziness pushed aside and my hunger taking over. I sat up and I began to salivate. 

"Porridge for the boy" He said and he got a bed table, put it over my lap, and placed the bowl down. Without hesitation, I grabbed the spoon to take a big bite and his presence stayed to witness it. His eyes were focused on me, anxiety welling in my stomach and the thought of being beholden weighing my mind; I hadn't had a warm bowl of porridge since I began my march, let alone the ability to find any. I devoured the warm, milky rice with repetitive sniffles and a red nose.