Sanctuary

Sonya glanced up at the vast expanse of stars briefly before glueing her eyes back down to the ill lit dirt path.  She trudged awkwardly after her three cousins, their arms heaped with blankets and snacks as they walked confidently through the dark.  Sonya envied them, and not just for their smooth gaits.  She longed for even a shred of their carefree attitudes and positive outlooks.  The difference wasn’t in their age, since she was only 15, a year older than Maisie.  Her cousins had grown up on this large farm with their loving parents.  Sonya had been surprised by how openly affectionate her Aunt Claire was with her daughters and how wonderfully kind Uncle Charlie had been towards her.  Sonya had lost track of how many apartments she had lived in with her mom and Rick.  She couldn’t remember the last time her mom had hugged her or that Rick had said anything to her with a shred of kindness. That was the difference between her and her cousins. 

Her leg was already throbbing when they reached the patch of grass between her uncle’s barn and the cornfield.  Sonya liked the way the leaves rustled in the breeze and the crickets chirped.  So different from the incessant honking and whirring of cars she was used to.  They laid out the blankets, thin cotton barriers between them and the freshly dew sprinkled grass.  

Sonya laid down next to her cousins, trying to ignore the pain in the gnarled flesh from her left knee to her ankle, hidden as always beneath a pair of blue jeans.  Out of sight, never out of mind.  Memories of that night plagued her mind.  Sonya begged Rick to stop the car.  The smell of alcohol leaked from his pores and hung heavy between them in the stuffy station wagon.  A blinding light, a deafening sound.  She awoke in a hospital bed with stitches on her forehead and a cast on her leg.  She would never walk without a limp and she would never forgive her mother for her loyalty to the man responsible.  

The girls searched the sky for shooting stars and squealed with delight at the streaks of white light.  Sonya had never seen a meteor shower before and she matched her cousin’s enthusiasm, the wonder of the sight never dulling.  The girls asked Sonya about life in the city and she kept her answers vague.  The city was where he was and she didn’t want thoughts of him to sully her memory of this night.

The chattering voices lulled for a short time and Sonya heard a deep, far-off rumble that sent chills up her spine.  At first she thought she’d imagined it since her cousins seemed oblivious to it.

Then she heard it again and sat bolt upright, “What was that?”

A brief pause, “Oh, that’s just the cows next door.”  Maisie, the oldest of the Clarkson trio, replied casually.

“Oh,”  Sonya sighed, relaxing as she lowered herself back down, feeling foolish.

Giggles erupt from the three girls.  Sonya propped herself up onto her elbow, turning to her cousins.  Only their shaking outlines visible in the night.

“What.”  She demands, as she feels rather than hears another rumble, subdued yet powerful.

“Oh Sonya,”  Maybelle squeals, her body racked with laughter now.  “Cows?  Really?”

Sonya lips form a tight line, feeling annoyed that her intelligence is being questioned by a ten-year-old.  Though Rick always said she had rocks for brains.

“Yeah,” twelve year old Madeline snorted, “did that sound like a moo to you?”

Sonya shrugged, looking out over the cornfield, “I don’t know, maybe cows sound different at night.”  This evoked more howls of laughter.  “Someone better let me in on the joke.”  Sonya snapped.  

The laughter stopped abruptly and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her.  She didn’t mean to snap, it had become second nature, a defense mechanism.  Rick always laughed at her.  He sat in his recliner with his beer and his ego hurling sarcastic insults at her.  Her mom didn’t laugh; she didn’t tell him to stop either.

She muttered an apology to her cousins.

“They’re not cows,”  Maisie began,  “They’re the lions at Sanctuary of Kings, it’s a couple roads over.”

Sonya’s eyes widen, “Lions?”  Her eyes darted across the dark field.  The once soothing rustle of leaves now made her hair stand on end as she envisioned a lion stalking her from beyond the corn.  This was a predator she had not learned to protect herself from.  One with claws and fangs instead of fists and sarcasm.  

“Old lions,”  MaryBelle interjected, “Sickly ones, you know, the ones that can’t balance on balls anymore or whatever,”

“Lions don’t balance on balls, they jump through hoops of fire.”  Madeline corrected.

“Whatever.”

Sonya ignored the girls’ bickering and listened for the roar.  When it finally came she heard it for what it truly was.  The roar of an animal who had spent its entire life being whipped and forced into submission.  A king of the jungle who had been reduced to balancing on balls and jumping through hoops.  She thought of the whips in the lion tamer’s hand and wondered how long it took to break a big cat’s spirit.  When did they stop fighting and give in to their abusers?

“Are they taken care of?”  Sonya asked, sheepishly.

“Who?” Maisie responded and Sonya realized their conversation had moved on to other topics.

“The lions, the sick ones,. . . the hurt ones.  Who takes care of them?  Are they happy now?”

“Yeah, the Thompson's take real good care of them.  They’re the ones that founded the sanctuary.  They make sure all of them have a happy ending, even if their beginnings weren’t so good.”

Sonya smiled in the dark, lying back down on her back to watch the stars. MaryBelle squealed, pointing to the heavens as a bold streak of white passed overhead. The next time Sonya heard the lions’ roar she was relieved in the knowledge that they had found their way to the Thompson's.  They were no longer slaves to their abusers and though they likely bore the scars of their past, their futures were bright.