NOTE: The phrases which I had to include are in bold
As my pace quickened, my surroundings
slowed. Every step, fuelled by the relentless rhythm of my heartbeat, seemed
like an eternity. The silence was overpowering yet I could tell someone was
there. The shadow of the trees? From the corner of my eyes they were creepy
figures. The flap of a bird’s wings? These quickly became the pounce of the
enemy. The darkness of the sky? I knew this was the spotlight in which my
murder would occur.
Lost, scared and alone, I became two people.
A shell and a consciousness. The frightened shell of a girl began to cry but I
ignored her tears. Tears smell of vulnerability and vulnerability smells of
danger.
Stay confident.
Stay brave.
Stay alive.
People say we only have 5 senses, but at
that moment I had 6. He was there, I knew it and I guess, deep down, I knew my
fate. I smelt the faint stench of his coffee-tainted breath, and his staccato
pant was not even drowned out by the unforgiving harsh Autumn winds. The snap
of a branch behind me could not be passed off as an innocent four legged
animal, it could only be the aggressive stomp of his heavy boots.
My consciousness knew what to do; it took
the fear and twisted it. Reshaped it. Used it. Fear became adrenaline which
spurred on my legs to run faster. I whispered for my legs to help me, to speed
on, to sense the danger. They had to rise to the challenge; it was their time
to be heroes. I needed my legs to get me out of the forest, which would be
quickly transformed into a taped-off murder scene by the morning. But they
wouldn’t believe me, they didn’t sense the urgency. My adrenaline wasn’t enough
for me to rapidly carry myself out of the forest. I tripped at every
opportunity, each tumble bringing me closer to the inevitable.
I fought, begged and pleaded. Not only on
that night, but on the lead up to it. “Don’t”, “Stop it”, “Go away”, “Leave me
alone”. How many times can you say the same thing? I cried … again. Not from
the pain, the pain came later on, but from the fact that he had, once more,
succeeded. The most painful part was the sound of his laughter; it was the
first time I had heard him laugh and this was when both me and him realized, as
I lay tripped on the ground, that he had won. I wonder if he laughs at all of
his victims.
I’m not sure where I was but I saw it all.
I was now separated from my shell, who lay, waiting to be found. My memory
appears in flashes.
The dog walker, not knowing that this would
change her life forever. How can you forget the image of what lay in front of her
in a muddy ditch?
The police, breezing over their emotions as
they, naively, tried to piece together what had happened as if they had a
chance. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again, don’t get involved. I should
know. I got involved.
My father, having to make that transition
from the anger over my overstepped curfew to the … well he doesn’t know what he
feels. Perhaps he is still angry. Maybe he is just sad. I hope he stays strong.
My mother, crumpled in a heap as she
receives the news, and later, (much later) arrives at the harsh reality that
I’m never coming home.
…and Him. With no thought other than “so
who’s next?”
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