The Slick Floor- Prologue/ Chapter 1

Prologue

We escape together, his feet crunch in the gravel. Slowing his stride he looks behind us. No, no one follows. My steps are weak and my feet stumble beneath me, speaking to him my voice is ragged and soft, after all the punishments I’ve received over the last two long weeks. “Where are we going,” I stop walking and tap his shoulder waiting. His feet slow, turning to look at me, he speaks “Does it matter where we’re going,” his voice is soft and determined.

Limping slowly to him I wrap my arms around him, and whisper “it always matters.” Closing my eyes I wish to tell my mother I love her one more time, I wish to enjoy the sound of music rushing through my mind taking control of my body and moving me to the rhythm of the beat. The promise of love and a life filled with joy, now I know I may never enjoy these things again. My life is ending as we stand here in each others arms, they’ll find us. They’ll find us and when they do both of us shall die, together.

CHAPTER 1

My eyes burn and sting, closing them for a rare few seconds I wish to sleep. To drift off into a sleep filled with wonderful dreams, or the sleep where it’s so deep that you wake up in the morning and it feels as if you’ve slept for twenty minutes but yet twelve hours have passed.

But that has yet to come, here I’ve been staying up all night with my friends, studying and delving further into certain job choices. Is it a: an exciting job as the ice cream scooper at the local Baskin Robins. Or B: a flavor filled life of a coffee maker at the Starbucks at the corner of Ocean Rd. Lets not forget several other jobs that will hold excitement in my very near future.

Breathing in a deep lungful of moist air, it’s time to go home I chide myself silently. Slipping out of the small circle of my friends, I wave a hand and exchange quick goodbyes. Walking along the sidewalk back to my house I find myself stumbling along, my eyes seem to close. But I force them open several times.

My mind begs for sleep, the night is cold and brisk. All of the trees around me are encased in a layer of frost which reflects the moon, giving the trees a mysterious beauty.

Standing in front of my house I stare at the home of my childhood, two stories, and pitch black with a white door unusual colors for a home but as my mother has always said black and white can match with almost anything.

My room lies on the first floor, my parent’s is on the second. Now as I begin to grow older it becomes surprisingly convenient because I’m 15. I get to go out more than ever and even when my parents forbid me to go I sneak out and they never discover that I leave. Town curfew is at 12:30 am. But the police rarely enforce it unless someone phones in to report a problem.

Climbing in through my window, I replace the screen and slide the window shut clicking the lock in place. Shivers race up and down by spine; I shuffle to my bathroom and wash my face and teeth quickly. Slipping on my red silky sweats I curl up on my bed and place all my comforters over me. The weight seems to press down on me, urging me to close my eyes and sleep. Sleep comes to me quickly wrapping itself around me, tightening its deadened grip on my throat.