Where I go to Slip Away.. [Kheft]
Feb 9, 2012 21:17:18 GMT -5
Post by Cest on Feb 9, 2012 21:17:18 GMT -5
♥
Cecily McClain
District Four
Speak.
Think.
Listen.
Think.
Listen.
Hate. Loathe. Detest. Refuse. Despise. These, along with some other very colorful words, float through my mind as I maneuver my way around the various obstacles at the training center, catching glimpses of my uncle's disapproving expression every so often. I've been at it for nearly two hours, yet he is clearly not happy with my performance.
"Again, Cecily!" His voice, laced with demand, billowed throughout the training center, echoing in my ears. He shouts his command before I've even vaulted the final hurdle. My breathing comes as heavy pants and there's a faint burning in my chest. Ever since the fire that killed my mother and could have very easily taken my own life right along with hers, my lungs - better yet, my entire body, has never been the same.
Without question, my uncle could care less. My obvious struggle is seen to him as a "way of making me less vulnerable", or some bull crap like that. Now that his two sons, my cousins, are over the age of eighteen, I'm the only one left for him to
I hunch over, grasping at my chest in attempt to catch my breath. "Your mother would be ashamed..." My uncle speaks to me from across the course. You have got to be kidding me. I thought he was inconsiderate before, but with the mention of my mother, and in a way that belittles me, he has crossed the line entirely. Screw this.
Without a single word or a backwards glance, I storm towards the exit, making sure to slam the door behind me - my final word in the matter. My legs carry me in a sprint down the streets of District Four, swerving around passer-bys and lamp posts. I ignore the throbbing in my chest; my isolation is more important.
I slip through an alley way surrounded by two warehouses that back up to a long stretch of beach. I would actually enjoy the feeling of the soft sand slipping between my toes if it weren't for my sneakers. Without a second thought, I kick them off along with my socks and toss them into a dumpster behind the warehouse - their final resting place. It's not like I'll be training anytime soon...
I allow myself to walk at a steady pace, my chest heaving and anger still coursing through my veins. My hands are balled into fists at my sides as I continue my way towards the shoreline. The beach goes on for miles, both to my right and to my left; ahead, I can see the pier where I have spent many a days fishing with my father. Ever since I was little, this stretch of beach has been my safe haven; my mother, father, and I could spend hours here, doing nothing but being a family. So much for that.
As I reach far enough for the sea to sweep across my bare toes, I transfer my rage to something more physical. My hands find several pieces of coral washed up on the shore, and I chuck them into the water, ignoring the displeasure from my aching muscles. I watch them as they skip across the surface before disappearing into the water's depths. Just as I wish I could.
My mind is churning with so many different thoughts, so many different emotions coursing through me. Hate towards my uncle, grief towards my mother, pity towards myself. This was wrong, everything was so wrong; and yet, I know my mother would be proud of me for walking out on my uncle. She wouldn't have tolerated the abuse either.
My eyes scan the horizon where the sun is just beginning to set, and I keep my hands busy, continuing to toss various shells, rocks, and coral into the water, no longer paying attention to where they are thrown. My mind wanders in and out, and I barely feel aware of my surroundings until I hear a gentle scuffling in the sand behind me. He's got some nerve.. I think, as I turn quickly on my heel, my arm wound with a decent sized stone in my hand, ready to target my uncle.
I freeze the moment my eyes meet an unfamiliar pair, my hand quickly releasing the makeshift weapon as it falls with a thud into the sand. My eyes widen as I stare back at the face that has horror written all over it. "Oh... I- uh.." I clear my throat, a failed attempt at composing myself. "I'm really sorry..."
Way to make a fool of yourself, Cec.
[/color]
