I ran. Fast. I'm quick for such a little thing.
Lightning flash and she's gone. Out of your sight. It brings up the familiar bile, rising in your throat but you choke it down and take off after her, screaming her name.
He caught up with me halfway across the field and threw his arms out around me and we went down, crashing to the grass, his head smashing into mine and suddenly it was night and the whole meadow was stars and fireflies and then it was day again and I'm sitting up but he won't let go. I start to twist away and he squeezes me. Squeals escape and it hurts and I kick him repeatedly and in a blink I am pinned to the ground, the morning dew soaking into my dress and my hair and I spit curses at him and snarl.
He laughs.
Calm the fuck down, Bridget.
I manage to turn my entire body over but my arms are still facing him. Oh the pain. He turns it up another notch.
Jake! Let go!
Are you going to stop fighting?
No.
He rolls his eyes and puts his head down against my shoulder. Our breaths are hitching, caught. I'm crying and he doesn't care. I keep fighting but he's like stone and after a minute I just give up. I can't get away from him. He won't let me.
My breathing slows. My chest stops thumping like a jackhammer. I'm quiet. He turns me back over but I just stare at the sky, watching the clouds move quickly. My green eyes mix with the reflections and turn gold. Precious resources, the sense I will need most when I can't hear anything anymore.
What will they do, piglet?
Lock me in the library.
Sounds familiar. You pick the locks yet?
Yes. And I think they take their cues from you.
Why would they do that? I'm dead.
No, you're not.
Maybe it's time to let go.
You say that like it's my choice to make.
I shove hard and he backs off. And with that I am up and running again, across the wide open field toward the cliffs, toward the water. Maybe the roar will block out Jacob's bad ideas. That's why I put him down there. So that I couldn't hear him when he tells me what to do. Everyone does enough of that, I don't want to hear it from him too. I don't want to hear them screaming my name. Not anymore. I only listen to Bridget anyway. She knows exactly what she's doing.
Okay, so not exactly. Thankfully if I stand right at the edge, when it's very very windy I can't even hear the voices in my own head.
I'll be spending a lot of time out there. I have an endless supply of bobby pins with which to pick the simple locks on the doors they secure in front of me and I've already figured out how to disable the stupid alarm. I'm not afraid that I am giving away all my secrets by talking about that here, this is as fruitless as their efforts to break the silence, and as useless as my efforts at change.
