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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story about wanting to feel safe.

Submitted: September 23, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 23, 2012



The last thing I remember before I saw her was the safe feeling I had. I felt like I could breathe, finally. Unfortunately it did not last. She ruined it all. She took safety from my mind with her appearance. The only thoughts I had left were: hide, run, anything just to get away from her. Find safety!

You would think that their slowness makes it easier to escape them, it doesn’t. It’s like they are your personal terror, and when they have set their eyes on you – they will find you anywhere.

I am not a fighter. I have never been really brave to face my terrors. I always preferred to enclose myself in my pink bubble and ignore the reality.

This time the reality forbade me to ignore it. Or was it a reality? Honestly, by then I couldn’t even make sense of what was real and what wasn’t. I found myself suddenly appearing somewhere, like all this horrible experience was moving forward piece by piece. Plus, some pieces were missing.

I remember running and seeing an open window past me. I remember the green fields and seemingly perfect day with a blue, blue sky. I remember being bare-footed and so scared. Scared for my life and scared for the terror that seemed to follow me as a black cloud does on a bad day. I was having a very bad day.

Somehow I thought that if I could reach Desmond then everything would be fine, that I would be safe. I ran faster - past people, bare-footed, on the streets. I knew where I was going and what I was trying to leave behind. I knew what I was trying to escape.

I was running from the bad vibrations she seemed to be surrounded in. I was running from her eyes, from her smallness, from her cold stare, from her carelessness about my life. It seemed like she was the worst thing that could ever have happened to me, and I just had to reach my location, before she reached me, to be safe.

I yearned for safety. I felt like if my hands would be couple of centimetres longer I could reach it. It seemed that I was almost there, but it took me forever to cross the small distance.

Until I was running up the stairs I was almost about to lose hope. One after another and there it was – the door that separated me from my saviour. Or so I believed. I pushed the door open.

He was there. He wasn’t alone. I instantly felt like that’s it. I’m done. No safety for me. But he saw me before I could disappear. By then I was in tears, my face must’ve had this look of terror on it. He kept asking what’s wrong and I could barely make a sound at all. He was with a friend. I saw that.

I took my chances. I’ve heard him repeatedly saying that his friends come first. But I found out, when he wrapped his arms around me, that sometimes I come first.

I heard traffic in the distance. And I woke up feeling utterly terrified, but immensely glad that it wasn’t true, that I am not in danger. I was as safe as I could be. Alone, but safe.

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