Never look back

• Camille alyssa Harris, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2004

I lie in bed.
Whimpering.
Weeping.
Sobbing like the pathetic creature that I am.
The room is dark. Nothing but the tiniest ray of moonlight shinning through.
Hope.
Yet, the clock ticks. Still, I can hear the calling of the madness. See the boundaries of my sanity.
He’s coming
The air whispers gleefully. I grow suddenly cold. I pull my blankets around me as my instincts threaten to take over my sense.
Run.
Run...
…and never look back…
But I can’t go. He’ll choose another.
My sisters.
And yet, no one can know about this. God knows what he’ll do to this family. To me.

I was dumbfounded, stricken the first time. He said he was sorry. He said he was on drugs and alcohol, and that he didn’t know what he was doing. But now…
…he winks…
…bastard…

I gulp and close my eyes. I have created a fantasy world. I go there when the need calls. It is the only thing I can do for my sanity…
…when he drugs me…
…to make me dormant…
…agreeable…
He didn’t do it at first, but the second time, I…retaliated…
Pushed him away…
He slapped me hard and pushed a nerve at he back of my neck.
Darkness.
So, now, he pushes a syringe through me.
And all I can do is lie still…
Every muscle struggling to move…
While he touches me.


But tonight, he told me the last time, tonight is going…
Different.
Vivid images flick across my eyes.
Faster.
Faster…
I turn on my side, away from the door and slip my trembling hand under my pillow as I gaze out the window. My fingers touch the cold, comforting blade of my…
Athamé…
My knife.
Its meant for me. I haven’t been able to use it yet. I imagine myself, sitting up in the darkness, holding the shinning, willing blade to my throat…
And slicing it open…
Blood gushing…
Eyes blank…
Unseeing…
And the image stirs a deep longing inside of me.
Freedom…
But when the time comes, the pathetic, cowardly creature surfaces. And so…
I lie in bed.
Whimpering.
Weeping.
Waiting.

Not for long.

The crunch of the cursed gravel and the soft, sly chugging of a car mark his return.
Silence drops. Then a car door opens, and closes.
Then another.
Oh God.
He’s brought a friend.

Fear takes over time. The door creaks open behind me, and their faint shadows loom up against the wall.
Blinds are closed.
Hands are bound.
But the needle isn’t coming.
A whimper escapes my throat. They laugh.
I curse myself.
I frantically conjure up a fantasy…
I see my hands slipping free.
Seizing the beautiful knife.
Watching it gleam as I slice their throats.
Madness in my eyes.
I feel their blood on my hands.
It is on my hands.
I open my eyes
Two bodies at my feet.
My fantasy is true
A small smile, victorious and triumphant, creeps onto my lips.
Run.
Run.
And never look back.


By Camille Alyssa Harris