I Think

I had a system for getting exactly what I wanted out of people. I had a system.  But now I’m lost in the middle of the woods, and I don’t have exactly what I want from anybody. I have exactly what I didn’t want. Exactly what should never have happened to me. He promised I would never end up here again. He promised he would make sure I never failed again. He lied.

I was promised the life I wanted. I was promised the control I wanted, the control I needed. Yet here I was. Alone, without the power I’d been promised. The power I deserved. I deserve everything he had achieved. Because he hadn’t actually achieved anything. He would be nowhere without me. He would be nowhere.

She may be young, but she’s not stupid, I think, staring at the girl in front of me. Her hair is long and blonde, her eyes a brilliant blue. She is only 15, and yet she is also here. Her hands calloused and her face streaked with dirt.

She is young. I remind myself. She is young, and angry, and I am not. I am old and resigned and tired. Because that is what I really am. I am tired, and she is a bright fireball who does not know all that has happened, all that will happen, and she does not care.

She is reckless, and I am careful. She is impulsive and I am calculated. And yet, she is here, in front of me in the woods. She also had a system, she explained. But she had been lost long before I had, wondering the woods for longer than even I.

Her fire burned bright as a sun, and I was only a cool moonlight night. Barely there, unnoticed. She demanded attention. I did not. That was our undoing, I think. Her need for attention, even in the silent woods. Her demands to be heard. And she was.

The day it happened was warm. She was barefoot, twirling through the trees, her laughter bright and loud. Her hair flew in loose waves around her, a blonde halo around her. She had stolen my dress. My dress which I had kept, safe, dry, undamaged. Yet now she was here, skipping through mud and snagging the dress on twigs, her feet crunching down on the rough ground.

I should have known better, I think, but of course I did not think. I was to enthralled by the young, carless, joy she exuded. Her laughter rang out over the forest, her feet crunching down on leaves. And I new better. Both of us did. Both of us knew that we were playing with fire.

But she was fire, burning so bright and then gone. Snuffed out so quickly. We are not supposed to be happy, I think, watching her fall in slow motion. Her body hit he ground, then her head, her laughter halting abruptly. And maybe, I think, this is why I am here.

Turning from the fire, I leave. I can leave. She cannot. That is how it is, I think. It is how it must be. Yet there is that tiny spark in the back of my head, whispering. Hoping to be feed fuel. I was in a forest, there was fuel all around me. And suddenly I was no longer the cool moonlight, I was bright, I was burning, I was brilliant.

But this is the day everything went wrong. I must remember her, I think, my head slowly being consumed by the flames. Because fire is sharp. Fire is brilliant and dangerous and burning, but it must die. It always must die.

I killed my fire. They did not need to come for me. Salty tears trailed down my face. My tears slowly extinguishing my own fire. For this is not a place for brilliance. I think. This is not a place for laughter and joy and running barefoot on a summer day. And then, the next thought. I must leave.

I must leave. I chant to myself, my feet striking the ground. I must leave. And they will not stop me, I vow, glaring ahead. They had extinguished her brilliant flame, but I still had my system. I could still get whatever I wanted. All I want, I thought, was for her to be back. I never wanted a child, I remind myself, my mothers cruel words echoing throughout my head. I never wanted to be my mother; I correct.

And I am pushing forwards. Always pushing forward, my legs burning, my heart aching. I must be free. I think. My mind pushing me forward, wishing for her laughter next to me. But I cannot think that way. I cannot give in to their trap, their bait. For they have stuck me here, but I will survive. I will not let her death be useless, I think, pushing forward faster, faster, faster.

My breath comes. Short gasps. Faster. Faster. Faster.

My legs are burning. Exhaustion coursing through me. Faster. Faster. Faster.

My heart aches. Missing a piece. Faster. Faster. Faster.

And then I am out, the tree’s fading to reveal a blue sky, brilliant white clouds dotting the blue, grass green against my worn sneakers. Slowly my hand reaches out, the sunlight touching me for the first time in ages.

I am free. I am free. I am free. I am shouting, I think, but I am alone, so I do not stop. This day went wrong though, and I continued to forget. I continued to forget the quiet, the warning silence around me. The world turning away from my silent celebration. Turning away from the vines reaching out to me, grabbing my arms, twisting around my body. Yanking me back into the forest. I am stuck, I think, the vines tightening.

I scream. I thrash. I cry. And finally, I stop. I am done fighting, I think, and the vines slowly release me, message clear. I cannot leave. The forest is where I must stay, I think, tears once again blurring my vision.