Walking on Air
I started shivering violently from the cold as I inhaled the sweet odor of stale tobacco and cheap aftershave. I pulled his thin sweatshirt jacket tighter around me and tried to run faster, which was probably impossible-but I tried anyway. The wind moaned through the street, and cut through the late November air like a scalpel. I felt a few splatters of rain on my windburned cheeks-it felt good. I ran harder, believing that if I ran fast enough and far enough, I could forget. All thoughts would be swept away in the wind. My breathing was labored, but I refused to stop.
I decided I needed to get out of town, so I turned and started running in the woods on the outskirts. Dodging trees had slowed my pace, but it didn't matter; I had to keep running. I had to get away from there. Heat from the fire was coursing through me just as my feet got caught up in some roots and I went down-hard.
I didn't get up, I didn't move at all. I knew I couldn't escape it-it would catch up with me eventually. A tree next to me became my backrest as I pulled myself upright. My eyes stared aimlessly into the growing night. I knew setting the fire was wrong, but I had to do it-he had to be taught a lesson. He couldn't do that to me and expect to get away with it. But I couldn't go back now-I had to wait until everything had calmed down. Then I was going to get a few things and be gone for good.
I waited there until it was completely dark, then I carefully made my way back home. The first thing I grabbed was a backpack, then I started filling it with clothes, food, money-about $300 worth, and some other things. I grabbed my guitar in it's case and was out the door for the last time.
What he did was the last straw, I was not going to put up with that crap any longer. I deserved better than he had to offer, so I left. He had to know I was serious, I wasn't fucking around. I didn't even know if he'd been inside when I set the fire, but I really didn't care. I couldn't care less if he was dead or alive. As far as I was concerned, the world would be better off if he was dead. I would never forgive him. To do that to me and expect me to apologize? How dare he. I hope he's dead, I thought. But if he was still alive, he'd have to live with what he did to me, knowing that he'd never be forgiven. But me, I'd sleep just fine. I was stronger. I was done with him. There was no question in my mind that it had to be done.
I decided I needed to get out of town, so I turned and started running in the woods on the outskirts. Dodging trees had slowed my pace, but it didn't matter; I had to keep running. I had to get away from there. Heat from the fire was coursing through me just as my feet got caught up in some roots and I went down-hard.
I didn't get up, I didn't move at all. I knew I couldn't escape it-it would catch up with me eventually. A tree next to me became my backrest as I pulled myself upright. My eyes stared aimlessly into the growing night. I knew setting the fire was wrong, but I had to do it-he had to be taught a lesson. He couldn't do that to me and expect to get away with it. But I couldn't go back now-I had to wait until everything had calmed down. Then I was going to get a few things and be gone for good.
I waited there until it was completely dark, then I carefully made my way back home. The first thing I grabbed was a backpack, then I started filling it with clothes, food, money-about $300 worth, and some other things. I grabbed my guitar in it's case and was out the door for the last time.
What he did was the last straw, I was not going to put up with that crap any longer. I deserved better than he had to offer, so I left. He had to know I was serious, I wasn't fucking around. I didn't even know if he'd been inside when I set the fire, but I really didn't care. I couldn't care less if he was dead or alive. As far as I was concerned, the world would be better off if he was dead. I would never forgive him. To do that to me and expect me to apologize? How dare he. I hope he's dead, I thought. But if he was still alive, he'd have to live with what he did to me, knowing that he'd never be forgiven. But me, I'd sleep just fine. I was stronger. I was done with him. There was no question in my mind that it had to be done.