Becoming (chapter one)

1. Numb1

My breath was already uneven as I tried to hold back tears of pure shock and depression; the yelling voice behind me was no longer my priority. I refused to follow it’s command, only fearing now for my very life.
I was faster than him, but his voice rang in my ears. I could not escape the blood, the picture of my mother lying there in it. I could not block the drone of threats that poured from her murder’s mouth.
He’s coming to get me too, was all I could coherently think.
I had reached the door; I felt a rush of adrenaline and fear, for I knew I had to open it quickly if I was going to make it. I twisted the handle to the right, the only way it would work, and it swung open, to my greatest relief.
Thank you door, thank you, thank you, thank you.
I ran out, not bothering to even shut the heavy door behind me. The wind would not have been at my favor.
The cold air blasted my body, sending shivers down my spine. It did not stop me from running though, and my bare feet hit the snow, digging in. They were numb in a matter of seconds. I couldn’t stop the tears now, and they flowed freely down my face, freezing instantly and causing my face more stinging pain.
The knife landed beside my feet, staining the white with blood. I ran faster, now screaming in sheer terror.
The snow crunched loudly, but not loud enough. I could still hear him yelling, calling me, now desperate, loving, and regretting.
How dare you try to love me now? How dare you!
There was no going back now, I knew, and I kept running, my pants frozen and stinging my numb legs. I wasn’t going to make it, it was quite obvious. I knew I wouldn’t even make a mile.
Turn back; it’s for sure death either way. Give up now.
I argued with myself.
I can’t go back, I can survive this! You can, for your mother!
My subconscious didn’t disagree again, and I considered this a good sign. By now, I couldn’t feel my legs, but they kept moving, for I was unable to even try and stop them. My brain seemed to have gone numb to. Besides, I was clumsy, my legs and feet never did what they were told.
I was already in the woods, almost to the creek. It would be frozen in this weather. Branches were slashing at my face, and I could feel and taste the salty blood running to my lips. I licked them, and shuddered again as the picture of murder came into my mind.
Sobs racked my body painfully. It was already hard enough to take in a breath, my lungs and throat frozen with the stale air.
A trail of tears and blood, I said to myself, fearing that he could follow the trail, finding me much too fast.
I was running, slower and slower the farther I went. I didn’t notice it until I looked down. My feet barely moved an inch with each step, leaving a dragging, obvious trail in the snow. I almost fell to my knees then and there, but I didn’t have to.
I felt no pain when I fell. The creek was just suddenly, there. My unfeeling feet slipped, and my head hit something solid. I just laid there for what seemed like seconds, but it might have been hours. Get up quickly, you know you won’t be able to otherwise. I forced my body to listen this time.
Ignoring the pain in my head, I got up, using my deadened arms to stand up my legs. My fingers just hung there, useless. My legs were stiff, and it felt like I was stretching the skin on them impossibly. I cried out from the sting.
And since my legs refused to move, partly because the jeans rubbed against them so painfully, I started to cry. You have no hope you silly little girl, no hope at all. You’re so stupid, so pointless. Why do you even bother to try and run? You deserve to die, you do.
My legs folded under me as I began to sob. No! Get up! You have to go on!
No, stupid, silly girl, you can’t. Remember what he told you? You’re useless, worthless, pointless. Don’t even bother to go on.
I couldn’t feel anything; the cold was stinging me, numbing everything in my body, but my mind was working overtime. When the ice cracked, I did not care, I wanted it to end. Just die, all you have to do is drown. It will all end. You will have no more pain.
You could have just lived with the pain before!
I knew I could never have done that.
I screamed, trying to fight for my life.
The world went black, and my screams faded into the background, but I knew the screaming didn’t stop. All I could hear was the water rushing in my ears. I could sense nothing else, but I had a feeling of weightlessness, and before I knew it, my lungs were screaming in agony.
Yes, yes, little girl, drown, drown. No more pain.
Yet one part of me was struggling for life. I wanted life, I longed for it, and my arms were already moving me upwards. But which way is up?
It’s down.
I tried to scream, but I filled my lugs with water, and a strong gripping pain filled my chest. I had to reach the surface, but it seemed hopeless. The flapping of my arms stung, and so did my kicking.
It gave me so much hope when I heard the loud splashes from my arms, signaling I was finally to the surface. At least my arms still work. My imagination was already conjuring up an image of my prince charming coming and rescuing me.
NO! You can’t escape reality again. Deal with the problem yourself.
There, there now, it’s alright, I’ll have you warm in no time, said my imaginary prince.
I sobbed, choking still on the icy water I had inhaled. Pain racked my body, and I gave up, body, mind and soul. Noooo!
Yes! It is finally finished. You’re prince charming will never come.
I had gotten so used to the idea of drowning, that when I finally realized I was lying on the bank, I burst again into tears. It was far from over, it was just the beginning. Now you MUST get up. Maybe you aren’t supposed to die yet.
Why not just die like this? You couldn’t get a much more romantic ending. At least you tried.
I struggled to move, but only managed to get on to my knees. I think those are my knees. The stabbing pain of the snow and my ice coated jeans dug into them with no mercy. My eyes finally opened themselves, and I was blinded- by the darkness.
It’s too dark, something is wrong.
Starting to panic, my mind refused to believe what I knew had happened. As I turned my head all around I knew the truth. You’ve gone blind, you can never see again!
No, you can still make it, just put your arms in front of you and walk.
I could no longer cry; all that came out was a soft, quiet, and strangled sound. You sound a dying animal.
I tried to laugh as I imagined a passerby hearing my noises.
“Is that a dying duck?”
“No, it’s a dying kangaroo. Just let it die Bob.”
And that is what was going to happen, if I didn’t get moving.
Why would there be anyone in these woods?
I remembered when my friends and I played in these woods. We would build clubhouses and run around with fake swords, pretending to be in wars. If only I could escape reality like we did as innocent children. If only my mother had not remarried. If only I could have convinced her we were fine the way it was.
‘If only’s aren’t going to help you now.
I slumped to the ground, and my face dug into the snow. I wanted it to be easy, for everything to be all right with a snap and a few words.
Don’t give up!
But you know you can’t make it blind.
Maybe.
My stubborn self knew the odds were too much against me.
My tear ducts had exhausted their supply of oxygen, and I couldn’t cry anymore. The pain finally reached my mind. I groaned, because it was terribly unbearable. My head felt like it was being squeezed, my chest being pulled out, and my feet like needles were in them. My arms and legs were feeling somewhat like they were being constantly bitten by spiders and my face burned excruciatingly.
When I breathed in, I squeaked, realizing I had lost my voice, and the air was useless in my lungs. I started to hyperventilate. Even then, I realized my eyes were still open, but I was unable to shut them because they were frozen in their position.
They burned out of their sockets.
There are voices coming.
My brain must have been working, for I could hear them too. It bothered me I could not hear what they were saying.
You’re the listener, why can you not understand them? Why?
My brain struggled with much frustration to understand what they were saying, but the constant buzzing in my ears was overpowering them. The voices were right over me now. They sounded worried, questioning. What if they think you’re dead!? I panicked. Speak, speak! Use your voice! My throat decided otherwise.
I think something came out though, because the voices changed to tones of realization and relief, but then frantic worrying, and one whispered right by my ear, trying to be comforting. It wasn’t though, because their breath stung my ear, it was too hot. I could do nothing to stop it however, for my arms felt as though were not even connected to my body.
The ground was pulled out from under me; I knew this because my face no longer stung as badly. Burning hot arms encased me and pressed too hard against my skin. A deep voice was coming from the person that the arms were connected to. Out of the words said, I could only catch ‘hurry, I’ll carry’.
Another voice answered, it was a protesting, gruff tone of voice. It belonged to a concerning father, something I had not heard in a very long time. My carrier responded again and I felt the vibrations from his voice. I think a grunt followed, and I could feel the wind of movement on my cheeks, stinging. I could say my cheeks were the only part of my body I thought I could still feel.
My eyes slowly squeezed shut. Excited talk followed this movement and I felt my carrier quicken his pace so he was running awkwardly with me in his arms. The jolting hurt me terribly, but I gritted my teeth so I did not cry out. I wanted the corners of my mouth to move upwards, just to reassure them I was okay, but I couldn’t. I just wanted to be in someplace warm, somewhere with feeling, where I could move with my own free will.
The talking started again, and the fatherly voice became muffled. I heard jingling, and a door opening. Soon after, I heard a car start unwillingly in the cold winter air. I began to hope I would survive, but I remembered that it would be with horrible memories.
I tried not to think of the blood, the screaming face my mother had died with, the bruises on her arms. I tried not to think of the knife that landed beside me in the snow as I ran, ran away from the very man who I had called father.
Warmth encased me, and I could tell I was sitting in the lap of my rescuer. A blanket was wrapped carefully around me, as if I was porcelain china, ready to break any moment. I began to shiver violently.
“Keep her warm, above all things, I’ll get to the hospital as fast as I can,” said the fatherly voice I longed to have in my life.
“All right,” said the other voice, right by my ear, and strong, firm arms wrapped around me, providing extra warmth. I tried to stop shivering so this boy didn’t feel obligated to keep me warm, but I was just to cold. I opened my eyes, and was greeted by warm, blurry light.
You can see! You aren’t blind!
I sighed, relieved that I was wrong about being blind. I tried to turn my head to see who carried me, but it caused too much pain to move. I grunted in pain.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Said the man driving, and I saw blurry movement as he glanced back at me. Under his breath, I heard him whisper, “Dang, that’s a nasty cut.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but coughed instead. The coughing racked through my body, and I tried to stop. It hurt my head to cough. The boy patted my back, and I finally stopped. This time, I managed a few words. “I-I ran… away,” I spoke truthfully.
“Now why the hell would you do that, in weather like this?”
I started crying again. The arms tightened me, comforting. I was glad this boy didn’t hesitate when it came to seeing a girl cry. The father glanced worryingly at me, I could now see clearly, though my eyes were heavy from exhaustion. “She’s dead,” was all I could manage.
Now the father was frustrated. I didn’t blame him. “Who’s dead?!”
“Dad,” the boy spoke, “She’s upset. Cut her some slack.”
Thank you. The boy’s words gave me enough courage to go on. “My father,” I paused, swallowing hard, “My father, he murdered my mom.” I voice cracked on the last word and I burst into more sobs. I managed to get in more of an explanation though. “He was,” more sobs, “coming for me t-too,” I stopped, shaking painfully with sobs.
The father gasped, shocked. The boy pressed his face against mine. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered in, and I knew he was truly sorry.
“Adien, call the police, we need more than the medics for this,” said the father, clearly shaken. “What’s your name?”
Through my tears, I managed to squeak a name. “Jade. Jade Reylands.”
There was movement under me as Adien shifted his position and grabbed a cell phone out of his pocket.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered as he held his cell phone in front of me to dial easier. It was on his ear quickly, and he began to give information to the 911 operator on the other end.
I began to slip away, warm now, and beginning to feel my fingers again. I tried to keep my eyes open to fight sleep. My head tilted back onto Adien’s shoulder, and I fell asleep to the vibrations of his voice.
There were no sweet dreams though, just nightmares, haunting me, so I could not hide from my father.