A Beginning With No End

• Dijana Widders, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2009

I forced myself to look through the window that reflected my very own nightmare. He couldn’t see me, but he could sense my presence.
“Yes, that’s him,” I said, feeling the chills running up my spine, shocking my heart into quick, uneven beats.
It was him. I knew it was. The bruises all over my body started to ache more than usual. I turned away not wanting to remember the horror that came from his stone, cold eyes…
“May I go now?” I asked.
“Of course,” the policeman nodded his sympathy towards me as I headed out the door.
When I got outside, the sun on my face prickled my skin, warming my still body. Sitting at the bus stop, several buses went past, unsure if I was waiting. I was, but my heart beat so fast, I couldn’t bring myself to take the step towards the bus. Defeated I started to walk home.
Past the butcher…
Past the florist…
All eyes on me. Their sympathy unwanted but acknowledged.
I ran up the stairs of my five story building and slammed the door of my sanctuary shut. Pouring myself a cup of strong coffee, to try and wash away my anguish, I listened to my messages.
“Hi, Raine, just wanted to say that we are all sorry…” BEEP. DELETE
I didn’t want to hear anymore empty apologies, for something that they didn’t do or know anything about.
The hot substance running down my throat warmed me a little, making me think about things I promised myself I would never. I pushed the thoughts out of my aching head.
I fell asleep against my will, cursing the coffee for not doing its job. The peaceful sound of wind chimes, on my balcony, seeped into my dreams. The sweet tinkering sound deepened into sounds of thumps, footsteps, coming towards me. The horror that I felt on those nights came rushing back all at once, jolting me, as I woke up on the floor, gasping for air.
‘It was a dream, just a dream…’ I continued to tell myself, though I knew that it was my twisted reality.
The painful realisation hit me that, this could be my life from now on. What if I was to wake up every night in horror for the rest of my life? Could I cope? The torment of him kidnapping me, pains me, but the reliving it every time I close my eyes hurts even more.
I was a backpacker simply looking for a lift. In turn, it became a situation between life and death. I was lucky, I escaped. I was his 8th victim. The one that survived, the one who will put him behind bars and the one that will suffer the most. For the rest of my life, one word will haunt me, will make my heart sting.
That one word is ‘Why?’