Her feet stood firmly at the door. The great oak frames overhead appeared to be narrowing her escape. With a deep inhale, Megan could feel her lungs expand with the crisp, dry air.
Right, just one step forward….Just take that first step…
Megan stepped out slowly, her legs slightly shaking, as each step dragged against the ground. The sun hit hard at first, like a spotlight cascading down on her. It was fitting really. She had spent so much time in the shadows and now she had no choice but to be plunged into the light.
As Megan turned to face the place she’d once called home, she felt a mixture of sadness and relief.
“Megan, come on. You can do this.” A voice from the black BMW ahead called out. Megan’s eyes remained fixed on the house; the weathered brick exterior. The wide, covered porch stretches across the front, its paint peeling at the edges and floorboards creaking under the weight of time.
“I just need a minute” was all Megan could muster in response.
“Megan, you deserve better. This is just a house. It was never a home. You must realise this?” The calm voice pleaded.
Megan knew the voice was right. This house had been more like a prison than a home.
A place of terror and misery for the past five years.
A muted witness to the suffering that took place behind closed doors.
But even now with the memories of her abuse flashing before her; Megan felt a deep sorrow to leave this place. This decaying dwelling holding within its walls the haunting echoes of a life marred by fear and pain.
She froze as the crimson liquid streamed wildly over her white knuckles and dripped down her clenched fists onto the ground. The stark contrast of the dark red against her pale skin was a fervent reminder of the desperation and fury she was holding inside, each drop falling like a silent display to the conflict waged within. It was too late now to change anything, she knew that much. There he lay, eyes bulging; still with that stupid, confused look on his face. Her eyes narrowed as she stood over his cold body. With a deep sigh she considered the energy and effort it would take to clean up all the mess. It reminded her of a well-intentioned date night with Jeremy. He had suggested they try a ‘Couple’s Canvas Paint’ night. An unexpected snort of laughter escaped from her as she recalled how they playfully flicked and splashed paint onto the massive blank canvas before them. That day the room was filled with the sounds of their shared giggles among the clicking of paint cans and splatter of paint. It would take hours to get this room back in order. Her gaze was drawn to the photos on the wall, each slightly askew. The occupants’ smiles crooked, like an invisible wire was silently tugging at the corners of their mouths. A sudden, icy shiver crept up her spine, sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin and leaving her with a sense of unease. Well, she supposed, it was someone else’s problem now. With cat-like reflexes, she spun quickly on her tiptoes, her thick heels snapping loudly on the stone floor as she unforgivingly rushed away.
Laura purses her lips, tilts her head up and takes a long, deep breath. The sea of smiling familiar faces does nothing to calm her nerves. It seems like time stands still in that moment. Any minute now, James will walk through the door. She just has to hold on for a little while longer.
A loud creak starts from the back of the room as the heavy oak door is opened. Every head is eagerly turned to face the new occupant entering the church. Laura carefully shifts her weight from one foot to the other and delicately tucks a strand of honey hair from her face. With her body poised, she leans slightly forward, hands clasped tightly around her small, neat bouquet of hydrangeas.
Then she sees him, only it’s not the him she was expecting.
“She’s not who she says she is” he barks at the crowd.
Laura feels her world closing in around her. How is he here? How did he find her? Where was Chris?
Her chest tightens as her breaths become shallow and sharp. She blinks, trying to steady herself and force the dark spots from her vision. The faint ringing in her ears grows and she notices her hands trembling.
“Laura, do you know this man?”
These are the last words Laura hears before everything goes black.
There was so much noise. Chairs being scrapped across the floor, books being thrown, screams getting louder and louder. I close my eyes and cover my ears to protect myself from the onslaught, it’s all too much. Maybe if I hum, I can drown it all out.
The hum starts off slowly in my head, as I rock gently trying to take myself to happy thoughts. Something comes hurtling past my head. My humming increases. I can hear voices all around me, like a tidal wave surrounding me threatening to pull me under. I think they are calling my name, but I’m in a bubble and can’t quite make it out. I feel something behind me. Oh God, please don’t touch me. My humming builds up with each rocking motion of my body. My hands are sticky with sweat and I can hear the heavy beating of my heart ringing in my head.
A hand touches my shoulder and with a sudden jerk, I lunge myself at my opponent screaming. I have to protect myself. My skinny arms thrash out in all directions, unsure of where my attacker might stike next.
“Peter, stop! Peter!” I can hear a gentle voice calling my name. I know that voice.
“Peter, you’re okay. Open your eyes. Peter, can you hear me?” How can she say I’m okay? Could she not see the destruction around me? But it’s at this moment that I realise the chaos outside my head has stopped.
Steadily, I lift one eyelid and peek at the voice in front of me. I see a spray of short brown hair littered with grey flashes. A set of sleek metal frames that have a subtle rose gold glow sit upon a small, rounded nose. This doesn’t seem right.
“Peter, it’s Miss Heather. You’re safe. The classroom is empty now; we got everyone to leave. Are you okay? Can you hear me Peter?”
I open my mouth, but I’m unable to utter any words. With a deep, long inhale of breath, I feel my shoulders lower; my legs untense; my chest relax. It’s only now that it hits me. I’m in my English class. But there’s no one here now. A hot, prickling sensation spreads across my cheeks and my stomach twists in knots. A flood of embarrassment washes over me. I have an overwhelming urge to disappear.
It must have happened again. Why do I keep having these episodes and freaking out like this? Everyone must think I’m such a freak! They’ll all be laughing at me right now. Peter, the weirdo who can’t handle being in a lesson! I can’t take it. I feel a surge of adrenaline pump through me as I shoot up from my chair. Before I can even register, my legs have taken off and I’m spinting out the door and down the corridor. I don’t know what to do, so I just keep running.
