The car shakes as it makes its way across the dirt road. Rocks tink the sides as the tires sling them from the dirt. The woman driving is relaxed, listening to soft music as she swerves in the night.
The next song starts to play as the car shakes and she flinches, her hands fly to the radio to turn it off. Her calm expression is now drawn in and she stops the car to put her head in her shaking hands. The song was from older times, from days she would rather forget. She takes a deep breath and starts on her way again.
That song on this road did not make a nice combination, it reminded her of that night. She had only taken this road to get away from this town faster, but she may have thought too highly of her ability to push away the past.
The girl was good at running. She was far away from her past, but running didn't make the memories any easier to deal with. Everything reminded the woman of him; the songs he used to love, the colors he used for decoration, the way he used his words. Small things that are now tainted forever.
She ran back then and never stopped. She returned only because her new life had demanded it, and once her business ended she fleed as fast as she could.
But, her swiftness did not stop the whispers. She heard them whenever she went to get groceries. People wondering why she was back and why she ever left at all. Wondering if she and he had finally 'settled their disagreements,' or if she had finally 'stopped blaming him for everything.'
She hated the people from her past. She hated how they never saw that she was in need, how she had never wanted to be with the man in the first place. She hated how she was to blame when he was the one who made her into this scared child.
She hated how she couldn't look other's in the eye, how she flinched with every passing figure. She hated how the man was always here, in her mind. She hated that, even know, he was the thing she thought about the most.
The girl, no woman, didn't want to think about him when she saw a specific shade of green come into her sight- that was the color of the lamp beside their, his, bed that he would throw- she didn't want to hate him, she wanted to be rid of him.
She wanted him to never exist, to never be apart of her story- her painful past- one that she can't escape. He was popular, well-known and well-liked, and she could never get away.
"Are you his wife?" They would say, and she would have to tell them that they're no longer together, then they would get sad and say that she would make a great wife and why he let her go. Like he was some prize- some trophy husband- that all the girls around town would want to have. They would think that she wasn't good enough for him, when the only good thing he's ever going to do in his life is to stop breathi-
The woman breathed in, trying to calm herself. It was bad to think of her past while driving. She was almost home- the one without him- where she could get some much-needed rest.
But how could she rest when he's hiding in every corner? When his eyes will never leave her body? When the scars he gave her will always be on her, touching her?
How can she be free when her life will always be tainted by him?
She could run, she could pretend that he wasn't always on her mind. Like every decision she made wasn't to get away from him, like she was over the whole thing.
But how can she be? He had dictated her life for years. Every action she had was with him in mind- still is- know she has all the freedom she could want but, is it freedom when she can feel him looming over her?
Is it really to only leave the house to go to work? To spend every other moment curled up in a small apartment waiting for him to come and drag her away? Is it freeing to live in fear, like a small animal waiting for the inevitable day the predator will find her?
It was dark, the winding road only seeable because of the headlights. She stared at her shaking hands as they clutched the steering wheel.
She was running, leaving the wretched town and never looking back. Leaving the only thing she had ever known in her adult life. She didn't know where she was headed, down some little dirt road that would take her to something bigger, somewhere that didn't know her and her business.
Somewhere she could be something new, something less broken. Someplace she could slowly put herself back together again, somewhere he could never find her.
The woman was smiling, she was finally leaving him. He wouldn't haunt her anymore, he wouldn't hurt her anymore.
A jolly little song started playing on the radio, playing for her. Congratulating her for getting out of the chains that used to bind her. Tears were spilling on her face, but she was smiling, laughing, as she blasted away from her life. From the broken thing she used to call home.
She was free.
The excitement of that night would fuel her for months. It made the fear bearable because she'd grow out of it. She would grow and feel comfortable in her skin in no time.
Years later and she's still afraid. Still running, still not over the abuse. Still waking in the night thinking she felt his hands on her. Always thinking, always seeing him in everything.
No new relationships because they could hurt her as he did, no new memories because what if she goes somewhere and he takes her back. Nothing new, just memories of a place she had thought she had left but, she'll never be out of that house.
She'll never be free.
She can run and run and run, but he'll always be with her. He'll always be there because she can't remember who she was before him. All that she is know is what he left after he was done with her.
She's just the broken pieces left after he had his fun.
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3 comments
This was haunting. It was mysterious but perfectly clear at the same time. I did notice a couple typos, such as know instead of now, or apart where I’m pretty sure it should’ve been a part. Other than that, it was really well done. I loved it, and keep writing!
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Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time putting my work out for others to see and I was extremely nervous, but your comment made my day. Thank you so much for the advice, I know I'm not the best at grammar, but I'm trying to get better. Thank you again!
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I still get nervous (And excited) when I post stories, and I still miss stuff, but it just takes practice. I can’t wait to see your future work!!
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