Leave it Behind

Leave it Behind
     
      The breath of your last word fades away. You can see the pain in her eyes, and feel it in yours. You knew it would end this way some day, but she held on like a vine; the kind of vine that you never pulled away from because it seemed a shame to break its delicate, wandering stems.
      You tear your gaze from her glistening eyes, take a step back. You reach behind you and grab the brass knob to the back door. Your wrist turns to stone. Every memory you've shared courses through your vision, a waterfall of moments. She whispers, soft as silk, "Please don't go."
       Here is the moment. The awful moment when you choose to either turn your back on someone that once gave you happiness, or fall back into her now suffocating arms.

      You turn the knob. The door creaks open. The sunlight is freedom on your face.

      You turn back for one last look and she is no longer the gentle young lady you once held close. Her face contorts, disfigures. All beauty melts away. Her grace disappears, leaving only an unnatural frame behind, looking more like a beast than the woman you knew before. Yet it's still the same voice that whispers, "You won't go."
      It's not a plea this time. She rushes at you, startlingly quickly. You should never have turned back for one last look. It holds you by your hair, sickly sweet voice whispering of love in your ear. Fear courses through you as you struggle. Long, coarse fingers wrap around your neck, choking the life from your lungs.
      You can no longer just struggle. You must fight. With all of the strength you can muster you rip its fingers from your throat and throw it from you. Without a moment to spare you fly through the door, slamming it shut behind you.
      All you can think to do is to run. Run as far and as fast as you can.
      Once your legs can carry you no further, only then can you bring yourself to turn around. In the distance you can still clearly see the house. And in the window you can see the girl with the glistening eyes. Hoping patiently for your return.

Escape

Escape

      It was a first for me. Memories of three young girls' lives being ended by a midnight locomotive flit in front of my eyes for a pale instant. My breath pulls inside me in a single sharp gasp before I manage to regain my composure and release the stranglehold on the air inside me.
      Relax.
      I take a step. A small, careful step from one dank wood tie to the next. My breath now comes in long, ever-steadying sighs, inhaling the autumn air that glides through the rays of the full moon to reach my cold-burning lungs. The ties of the railway, which disappear around a silent bend, suddenly have a certain serenity to them.
      With each progressing stride I lose myself a little more in the mix of the navy-tinted palette that blends the reflection of the sky on the river to my left. Each subtle wave seems to beckon me to enter the shallows, to forget my cares and drift into the pseudo sky it wears as a gurgling, imperfect mask.
      "Almost there."
      I jump, though only barely enough to be perceived. I stumble backwards slightly, tearing my gaze from the hypnotic rhythm that carpets the impostor moon. Having nearly forgotten that I was not alone, I stare at my companion's figure which moves with practiced steps, smoothly travailing the knobby, weatherworn planks which serve as our path. I steal a final lingering glance at the raw motion of the damp stolen sky and hurry to catch up to my friend who now blends with the shadows up ahead.
      I wonder what my friend is thinking right now--such a hard life, so many reasons to be unhappy, but always moving on. I am surprised to finally be on my way to "the place" I have heard so much about.
      I scan the ground ahead of me as I proceed, carefully measuring each step to land on the slightly-giving tracks in front of me. I come to a clearing: my destination. I look up from my restricted view of gravel and pine. I see a silhouette sinking slowly into the river.
      "What are you doing?" I cry, running towards the shape which now consists only of a still-clothed torso, and a head above the surface. Peace radiates from the pair of familiar golden eyes as they sink beneath the swell.
      My mind doesn't stop to rationalize before I have leapt off of the boulder which shoulders the stream; time lags as my body splinters the lunar mosaic resting on the surface. I remember how much I hate being wet just as I feel the weight of soaked jeans resisting my attempts to stay afloat.
      I find myself alone in the now rough waters, only deep blue surrounds me as I cling to a crevice in a  rock that braces itself in the center of the river. I stay there only momentarily, knowing that no person can physically stay under a choking current for so long. I push off of my stronghold and plunge back into the liquid struggle.
      I fight to swim to where I last saw those eyes, I get there and instantly stop thrashing against the current.  Because suddenly there is no current. The water is warm here--and eerily still. I can feel myself being drawn downward, just as I witnessed before, and even as my mind threatens to split its seams with panic, I can feel my lower body relaxing. As the water reaches my throat fear consumes me as I anticipate the claustrophobia I associate with being separated from cherished air.
      But it never comes.
      I hold my breath as long as I can, and then discover that it isn't necessary. I keep expecting to drown, to feel the water filling my lungs, but my breathing comes easy.
      I settle in a sitting position on the river's floor. Focusing through the water is like staring through layers of antique windows. As my eyes adjust  I can make out the body of my friend, eyes closed, sitting across from me on the sandy bottom in perfect tranquility.
      Surreal. It is the only word that describes the experience.
      Every time I had been told about this place, it had been described to me as an escape, but only now do I realize the literal sense of the word. After an indeterminable amount of time, the eyes across from mine open for a moment, a quick blue smile accompanying them. We both stand and with little effort rise towards the surface.
      We reenter reality and ride the flow to shore. I drag myself onto the boulder that I had used as a diving board and blink in surprise at a red and gold sunrise. Serenity, apparently, is no respecter of time. I stand and look back into the river, which now shows a smiling mask of the dimly sunlit sky. I resist the urge to plunge back into the impossible escape.
      I think of the life that has been given to my friend. The hardships that I can't even begin to understand, the times that I've been surprised by a lack of tears as experiences were described to me. "How can you know about this, and stand not to just escape forever?"
      After a long pause, my answer was spoken to the ground at a near whisper.
      "Life... is far from perfect. It seems like every person I've looked up to for acceptance has turned their back on me, has given up on me already. Some nights I sit up wondering why I shouldn't just give up on me, too. I don't even really have a family; all I've grown up with is people fighting around me. But I have to rise up. I have to rise above my parents' practically nonexistent expectations for me. Yes, I come here to escape every once in a while, but I can't turn my back on life, because if I turn my back on myself--then I truly do have no one."