Chapter One - Escape
Poppy
My lungs burned like they were actually on fire, my breaths screamed out in short sharp bursts, my feet slammed into the ground beneath me no longer identifying the surface they were running on, moving with nothing other than the momentum they had gathered. I was no longer connected to my legs. They were moving of their own accord. My brain was no longer thinking thoughts but the tears staining my face told the story that my legs were running from. Gradually my eyes became aware of a change in the light as the sun began to dip below the horizon and the sea beside me glistened more intensely.
And as if that sunset triggered the end of a rope I was attached to my body slammed to a halt. My legs suddenly became aware of the exertion they had been inflicted to and collapsed beneath me. I fell to a heap on the promenade and attempted to drag in air to my desperate lungs. I had no idea how far I had run; I no longer cared what any of the people around me thought of me and I didn’t have an inkling where to start thinking about what I might do now.
I became vaguely aware of a gentle voice that appeared to be talking to me “Honey are you ok? Do you need help?” a woman’s voices, older, motherly. I turned my head searching for its source. A round-faced black woman in her 60s looked down on me, concern etched into her lined face. She had shoulder-length brown hair in tight curls, wore large, hooped earrings and loose flowing clothes with brown leather sandals. Her look was hippy chic, not the wild carefree look of an actual hippy, the more refined and cultured look of a woman who clearly had money, style and ethics. She was the kind of woman who shopped at farmers markets, volunteered for every cause imaginable but also came from wealth.
She reached out her hand to me “Can you get up?” still without saying a word back to her I grasped her hand, the warmth and softness of it grounding me and giving me the strength to push myself from the pavement. There was a tenderness to this woman, not just in her tone and gentle looks, she emanated it from her very pores. Once I had managed to pull myself up with her help, I whispered a tiny ‘Thanks’ before looking down at my feet. This total stranger had found me at the worst moment of my life, and, unlike the dozens of others, who had walked past me whilst I lay crumpled on the ground, giving me contemptuous stares and tuts, she had shown kindness, concern and empathy.
My breathing had almost returned to normal, so taking a deep breath I dragged my eyes from the laces on my trainers and up to the eyes of this woman. Her warm brown eyes had clearly seen my tear-stained face, the mascara streaks down my cheeks and of course my short tartan kilt and red crop top that were clearly not the kind of outfit you go jogging in. She didn’t look at me with anything other than concern and kindness. There was no judgement in her eyes and so I found myself dragging this woman to a nearby bench and pouring my soul out to her. I told her everything that had happened over the last three months, the nightmare that my life was from the age of 14 but I couldn't bring myself to tell her the worst part. The part that had sent me running with nothing more than the clothes on my back and whatever was in the small crossbody handbag that hung at my waist.
She didn’t speak while I choked out my story, she just kept eye contact with me and as my tears started again, she grasped my hand between both of hers and held me with love. After twenty minutes talking my throat grew dry and my words became sparser. I had a sudden realization at that moment. “I am so sorry, I don’t even know your name, but I’ve just burdened you with my life story!” She smiled at me, a genuine smile that made her eyes sparkle and the wrinkles around her mouth disappear. “I’m Nancy my dear, and don’t you ever think that telling me your truth is a burden. I saw a beautiful girl who was so clearly in need of a friend, and I knew I could be that to you. It is never a burden to listen to a friend’s troubles and to help them in a moment of need is always a blessing.” And for the first time since it had happened, I found myself breathing feely and some of the tension in my shoulders lifting.
“What is your name Honey?” Nancy asked me and I laughed a little. “I’m Poppy and it is lovely to meet you, Nancy! It would seem you are the exact person I needed to meet today!” I smiled at her this angel of a woman who had just stopped her day entirely to make sure I was okay. “Thank you so much for stopping and for listening to me. I needed that moment of kindness more than you can ever know. Now I just need to decide what on Earth I do now my life has completely imploded.”
“That is something else I can help you with Honey.” Nancy grinned back at me. “You clearly need a hot meal and somewhere safe to stay tonight so you are coming back home with me.” I stared slack-jawed at the older woman. “No. Thank you so much for the offer but that’s too much! You don’t even know me I can’t ask that of you.”
“You aren’t asking it of me Poppy Honey. I am telling you that it is what is happening. You cannot go home and whilst I am sure you are resilient and would find somewhere to stay I also can’t in good conscience, leave you to fend for yourself after everything you just told me.” And so, I found myself following Nancy back to her car which was parked a little down the road in one of the roadside spaces and climbing into the passenger seat of the shiny black Land Rover. Admittedly I was still somewhat dazed from the day's events and my overexertion (Nancy later told me that I had run at least 4 miles, which was a huge distance for someone who hadn’t run more than the occasional 10 minute burst on a treadmill since I was 16) and so had I really thought about it this decision to get into a total strangers car probably wasn’t the safest one I could make but I did it anyway.
And it was a decision that would change my life in so many ways.
