Ghost

What went so wrong in her life? Or maybe a better question would be: when has it started going so wrong? Her mind was searching hopelessly for an answer through her memories. She had always made the right choices but yet here she is. Running. Frightened. Deeper into the heart of wilderness with those images flashing back in her head over and over again. No matter how high her speed was she couldn't shake them off. His obnoxious perfume mixed with the stench of cheap vodka was still itching her throat, suffocating her. Stop. Need to stop. Need to breathe. Air. Pure fresh air. Stop and clean your lungs. But her feet weren't listening to her anymore. She kept running, her pace speeding up, till her feet were caught in some dry branches and she stumbled, then finally fell. The moist flavor of the ground hit her face. Such a relief. Her eyes were flooded with tears. That pain came rushing back to her. She felt it in every cell of hers. Excruciating. Agonizing. She took a blurry look at her limbs. There were bruises everywhere. And blood. So much blood. Was it hers? Was it his? She couldn't tell. Not that it mattered anyway. What's done is done. It can't be undone. Her hands were shaking. Her thoughts were shaking. Her entire being was shaking. Is this what freedom looks like, what freedom feels like? No. Definitely not. This can't be it. He was still in her head. Haunting her. Terrorizing her. Splitting her apart from the inside. She could feel his grip. Around her wrist. Pinning her against the wall. On her shoulder. Squeezing tightly. On her waist. Dragging her closer. She could feel her own yelp hammering her brain as he forced himself inside of her. She could feel herself cringe at every of his thrust that dismantled her bit by bit. She could feel her helplessness devouring her consciousness. Wake up! You're not there. Open your eyes! The amorphous silhouettes of some trees stared back at her. She couldn't recognize the place. Even though she's been hiding in there many times. How far has she gone? How long has she been out? There was bright sunshine when all this started. And now she couldn't even find the moon in the sky. She's lost. But that's the least of her concerns now. She so fucked. She has left a mess behind. Someone must have found it by now. He had friends. Disgusting, stomach-churning friends. A heinous smile formed on her lips at the thought that one of them saw what she had done. Saw him lying in coagulated blood in front of her piano. She imagined the rage on each of their faces. That filled her with sheer delight for a second. Shit. She's so fucked.