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The Absconder
All quiet, no noise, cold, damp, alone, you may expect this from a tramp but from an eight year old child? Early into spring, in the dark, going door to door with no-one there to answer; just running, running throughout the night, to get to a place where there can finally or should it be hopefully be peace. She daren't have looked back; it is all about what is ahead that matters. 'What if they are following? What if I made a mistake?' Mindless thoughts were flowing through her head; until it all stopped. No thoughts, no worries, only dreams of a magnificent place that can take away all the years of agony; until that sun rises taking the optimism from her eye.
Waking her from a deep sleep, at 4 o'clock the sun raised above the hill in the distance; allowing a panic to break in. Not aware of what she has done, until she turned around and far in the distance was the foster home that had entrapped her for the eight years of her life. With her legs tucked up into her chest and her head pressed down onto her knees, she took a deep breath and gradually picked up her bag and looked off into the distance. She walked on; she walked on for hours; when all of a sudden she started hallucinating. He was coming towards her with the baton again, just before impact she let out a hellish scream that sent shivers down her spine. She collapsed back onto her hands and knees shaken to her absolute maximum.
She steadily opened up her bag and took out the bottle of water that she stole from the home; it was as much a home for her as a prison, though in her mind it was worse. She only had one packed lunch to last her, until she found out what was over that hill. For an eight year old there was a lot to think about, unknown of what is over the hill that has given her dreams of what life can be.
She thought that if she started running again it would push the memories out: she couldn't have been more wrong. She tried her best not to look back; the more she thought about it, the more tempting it became. Eventually her temptation gave way, she couldn't take it anymore, and she had to look back.
The hallucinations or more to the point the memories that kept going through her head were getting worse and worse as the minutes passed, every time it was him behind her, with her, hurting her. But then one of the worst memories that could possibly affect any child, the day was nearly up when it came, as the sun set: she was in her room when he came in, all alone with the lights off. He hit her around the head making her unable to shout, talk, move. With her laid gently on the bed, incapacitated, he locked the door; and he made love to her. When he finished he tucked her into bed and kissed her goodnight; if anyone entered she just looked like she was sleeping unable to say a word.
The screaming phase was back, it was an unstoppable phenomenon, would last hours and hours on end. She would just sit there screaming, crying; you name it, she did it. By this time it was lunch and a flood of people were leaving work, when someone heard the faint noise of the scream: they ran, ran to the noise and there she was sat there, screaming, not stopping for a breath.
The women phoned the police; they arrived and he put his arms on her trying to calm her down, but the screaming continued. He managed to get her up and she walked with him in an abundance of tears, with the screaming continuing the whole way to the police station: sat down in a quiet room the screams started to fade away after two hours. She wouldn't talk, as hard as the police officers tried, she just sat there saying, 'no, no, please, no'. They didn't know what to do. A psychiatrist came in and classes her insane; an eight year old child insane?
After being taken to the mental institute they found a phone number, it was the number where she was staying. It was her home. No foster home, there was no such thing even though in the diary that they found that was all that was mentioned. Her father arrived. He entered the room and smiled at her. That's when the screaming started again.