Windscript Volume 24, 2007-2008 - Saskatchewan Writers' Guild

The Magazine of Saskatchewan High School Writing
she had finally matured into a place where she chose the responsibilities of a wife.
The thought had now turned into a disheartening realization. As an adult she still had so much more to learn.
Her story had only begun to grow and it had already been wounded.
She stayed in the darkest areas, walking, almost clinging to the building walls. Her fear of being caught was
more pronounced because she couldn’t see the man that wanted to hurt her. It’s hard to run from something
you can’t see, or hide from someone you know will find you.
I know you’re in here. I just want to apologize. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was an accident. His coaxing
tone echoed in her mind.
The pains of her past shot through her yet again. Most nights she had hidden and cried until the next morning
when he drove off to work.
There was a part of her that she hated; the part of her that never fought back, the part of her that threatened
to leave but never had the will power to follow through. Was it considered strong to cower, as long as
she didn’t ask for help?
As she moved forward, her tender walk showed her need. She didn’t want to remember him anymore. All
she wanted was a new life somewhere safe.
It was almost daylight and she hadn’t gone very far. The thought of him calling her name from his white
Dodge truck frightened her, and she picked up her pace.
The dark enveloped her as she turned into a different alley. Now that she felt hidden, she sat down to rest
again. The night seemed calm, and sleep beckoned to her. Eventually it claimed her, throwing her into tormented
dreams.
The distress of the nightmare shook her small frame; even in her sleep her arms rose with tremors. The
images were burned behind her eyes. Her husband’s last sentiments played over and over. The memory of
unrelenting laughter and of her own pathetic screams finally tore her back into the alley.
Her arms and legs slowly unfolded, stiff from the cold, she started to walk, looking up at the stars. They
seemed to help her carry on. She had been to church as a child, but never really believed in God. Now, in
her time of need she felt silly starting into the sky, hoping for a miracle.
You are as strong as you think you are. Her mother’s words flowed through her as if she whispered in her ear.
The broken spirit gave one last effort to stand. She gasped in pain and began to run towards the glow of
morning. Slowly at first, and finally sprinting like she had as a child, she rounded the corner to find the same
diner. A waitress set tables and looked questioningly with worried eyes.
She laughed. She had known it all along. You are only as strong as you think you are.
“Please, ma’am, may I borrow your phone.”
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volume 24