Prologue
Prologue
There’s a thin line between joy and misery. Every experience that fills your heart with overwhelming warmth and comfiness, gets followed by something unfathomable. Suffering is the split image of joy– and that’s something I learned the moment I reached the age of seven.
I remember enjoying the ride at the amusement park, playing with a little girl who was around the same age as me, or possibly a little younger. I can hear our laughter echoing in my ears, its sound seemed music to my ears not until the innocent giggles turned into ear-splitting cries.
“Please, Olivia– help– I want my mommy, please he–” she kept crying as she clutches the hem of my amber-colored dress. I can’t remember her name– who was she again?
I looked at her, my heart ached for her. I know that she won’t… get to leave. That’s what happens every six months– we’ll go somewhere crowded, I’ll get to enjoy my childhood, and after a few hours we go back home; the trio becomes a quartet.
I didn’t understand it at first, I always thought that the other kids’ parents were family friends and they’d asked mom to look after them for a while. When I realized things, it was already too late.
“I need my mommy… my daddy, please!” she begs, her sobs becoming more audible. I wanted to speak to her, yet my mom told me not to. I can’t. I shouldn’t or else they’d do something worse.
“Can’t you hear me, Olivia? Olivia!” her voice’s pitch goes higher every second I ignore her. She struck me with her fist multiple times, waiting for me to respond.
“PLEASE SAY SOMETHING,” she screamed in my ear causing me to push her away.
“I can’t help you. I’m sorry,” I whispered loud enough for her to hear. Quickly, I hid under my blanket. My eyes watered as she continued to strike at me, begging me to help her.
“Why? Why?!” she hollered.
I covered my ears and apologized in a hushed tone over and over again. The sound of her voice became less perceptible when my bedroom door opened. I heard her gasp, her screams becoming more horrified as every second went by.
I knew nothing, I saw nothing. And perhaps, this was the first crime I’ve committed… Undeniably, I became an accessory to crime at the age of seven.
***
I felt myself gasping for air the second I opened my eyes. Everything was going on replay, and it haunts me still. I reported the case years after I understood the truth.
However, the authorities never believed an eleven-year-olds recollection from four years ago. Well, even if they did… the crime scene was already neatly cleaned and all pieces of evidence were eradicated.
Even after 12 years that kid’s cookie-brown eyes still bring guilt in my chest. Tears began running down my cheeks, my breathing went shallow causing me to repetitively give it a light thump.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I said between my sobs.
It took me a few more minutes to calm down. I can’t let myself succumb deeper to my traumas. I am still on the run for the crime… I didn’t do. My eyes fluttered for a few more minutes, rest was all I wanted, and yet time deprived me of this privilege.
Dawn was already peeking through the grayish clouds. I had to move quickly before anyone saw me in this abandoned establishment. My eyes thoroughly searched the area, looking for the presence of the officers that may be patrolling the area.
The coast was clear when my feet silently shuffled away from the building. While the musty moist gust of wind welcomed my exposed skin, making me shiver, and tightly wrapped my arms around myself. “Dang it,” I mumbled, my voice sounding hoarser than usual.
It has been twenty minutes, but I haven’t even figured out where I should head next. I was already low on cash and the last thing I’d ever need was for someone to recognize me. A light growl vibrated through my stomach, seems like it was already on a rampage for food.
Its obstreperous behavior was enough to make me go bonkers! I had to think it through, where else could I hide in this tiny village of Bridtrastor? With any ounce of carelessness, I could be behind bars any minute now– that’s the last thing I want.
I wouldn’t dare to waste my efforts for the last two months. I did my best to survive, living like prey with its heart hammering in its cage every second– fearing the chances of meeting a predator who’d chew off its skin, bones, and everything it has.
I hissed as I felt a sting underneath my soles. Now wasn’t the time to whine about pain, but I was goddamn exhausted. My eyes wandered around the area, noticing that I had two choices either move forward or head east into the woods where I could be ACTUAL prey.
“Do you even have a choice, Liv? You’re a suspect, being eaten alive isn’t the worst thing that could happen.” I reminded myself and headed to the misty forest.
The trees were like canopies serving as a roof over my head. Whilst the sun’s rays barely made it past the branches of these thick lumbers. It was a good place to hide, but also likely to be the best location to serve me as a meal for bears or any predator.
I was lucky enough to know how to climb a tree, I had lots of practice back when I tried to hide from my parents. The moment I realized what was going on, I immediately thought of the best ways to stall their plans– whether be it injuring myself or eating meals that were past their shelf life.
However, I eventually ran out of ideas. So, at the age of 14, I ran away from home. I hid in a shed filled with rodents and roaches. The sight of it didn’t bother me since the pungent scent of blood was way worse than spending a few nights with them. I stayed there for almost four days and had no recollection of how I survived the cold evenings without any proper meals.
It was still a mystery to me how I was brought home. I remember waking up on my bed, clean and free from the stench of filth. My mother stood by the doorframe with the same, hair-raising smile. Her steady steps made their way to the mattress. Gently, she caressed my hair with her smile widening as her fingers slowly gripped the ends of my hair.
“We hope you didn’t get ahead of yourself, Olivia. You didn’t think that it would be that easy to get away from us, didn’t you?” Her tone was condescending. It wasn’t cold, in fact, it was filled with a strange intimidating feeling that sends chills all over my spine.
My eyes felt heavier as the past pulls me deeper, there was still the uneasy feeling inside my chest– but for the first time in months, I didn’t care.
