Her new world

 It was the gentle breeze that wafted between unfurling tulips that whispered her awake. She opened her eyes to a sky the color of watered ink and to an earth painted emerald. The sun beamed down in broad golden shafts but the idea of needing to shield her eyes against the glare was laughable: indeed, it was with barely controlled eagerness that she turned to gaze, wide-eyed, at the sphere of molten gold that emblazoned the sky and filtered through outstretched branches and stems, bathing the world, and she, in a mist of shimmering hue. And tears came before she could stop them, sliding down her face one after the other, because really, when was the last time the sun had shone this way? When was the last time she had seen such exquisite, such splendid beauty? It was glorious, glorious and yet it was also so remarkably ordinary, so very normal a sight. Didn’t it, after all, happen everyday?  But as she lay curled on the grass with her forehead between her knees and her hair spread out on the ground, she felt that the sun had never lit the sky, had never blazed as fiercely, had never blazed at all, in fact, the way it did now.

She rose, barely acknowledging the sleeping form beside her. She felt light; as if today she could spread her arms and soar with the wind if she wanted. She could bound over the grass and let her feet skim the sun-baked pebbles that lay strewn. She could break into a sprint and think what bliss, what joy is was to run, simply run, under this cloudless sky in which glimmered the sun, her first sun. For she now knew, with a finality that was absolute, that the creature next to her would never stir to life again. She knew the way a planted seed knows to grow and a bird knows to croon, that she was free. The vines strapped around her ankles had unwound, leaving her tied to nothing and bound to no one.  The rumpled mass that lay beside her was still. It was for only a moment that she hesitated before reaching out to cautiously nudge the unmoving shape. Its skin felt raw and coarse under her finger. Her eyes moved slowly over its distorted features, taking in the small, stunted frame, the withered mouth, the identical gashes that pierced its scaly hide. The girl recoiled from the maimed creature and silently reminded herself that what had breathed life into this creature’s wasted body had left. It had gone. She would never again hear that terrible rasping voice or feel its glittering black eyes narrowed malevolently at her. She closed her eyes and waited for the image of the creature to swim before her eyes, but none came. She waited longer, but the memory had disappeared. Her eyes flew open. She breathed. She must leave the creature here. It was dead. She had fought it out of her.  

The girl’s surroundings quivered in front of her eyes and then vanished; memory after memory began to dart through her mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded her. There she was, crouched in a corner, ragged and unkept, screaming as if her lungs were on fire. The image faded and another one came into view; she was kneeling alone in her room, tears coursing down her grimy skin so that her face became a criss-crossed map of tangled hair and dirt streaked clean..she was fourteen and turning her head away as she passed the mirror..fifteen, and her wrists bore countless scarlet stripes.

She drew in a sharp intake of breath and her surroundings came back into view. The horizon beckoned, whispered promises of better tomorrows. This new world glistened in celebration and a warm breeze caressed her face. She breathed. The creature was dead. She breathed again. Laughter bubbled in her throat and rang unfamiliar to her ears; she had forgotten the sound. Tentatively, she placed one leg infront of the other and took a small step. Then another. Then before she knew it, she was running, running through the tall grass, her legs moving so fast that they barely seemed to be moving at all. On she flew. A part of her registered that it felt exactly how she had imagined it would as she breathed and ran, breathed and ran