The walk

A walk into the past , memories

Twigs and branches snapping and crunching under the weight of my black boots as I trudged through the grassy lane.

Sunlight seeping through the gaps in the tree branches, creating a zig zag like pattern on the mucky trail.

I could hear birds chirping happily perched up high, their high pitch tune travelling like an echo.

A calm breeze fluttering the leafs on the surrounding trees .

Unlike most teenagers on a Wednesday afternoon, home from school, about to plunge into the piles of homework ahead of them.

I was an exception.

A slightly odd teenager at that.

While my friends were preparing for upcoming exams the whole day, I was preparing for quite a different situation .

It was a type of project , a personal one, I had other priorities to deal with from homework that teachers handed out for their own satisfaction.

I had several journeys to complete , to face, all from the past.

The walk up the grassy lane was number 1.

Mam had asked earlier if I wanted her to go with me , her being a worrier and all.

I refused I needed to do this on my own for once .

So , I'm here at the gateway of a walk full of memories, some good some bad.

I begin the walk, scared, nervous, a handful of butterflies in my stomach.

My eyes dart wildly around the vivid green sea of colour , when I see it , the first memory.

Under the shelter of a few brown, speckled golden leaves off the main trail where a few grey coloured rocks, stacked high in the shape of a tomb.

I leapt of the main trail and hunched beside the pile of rocks.

 **I was 7 years old and came up the trail with my dad.

He used to always tell me stories about the faeries and woodland folk that lived up the lane. Of course I believed in his stories , so I built a rock tomb for the faeries , hoping one day they would visit.

I used to put out food and leave clothes from my dolls at the rock tomb  in determination that I would catch a glimpse , but I never did.

**

I smiled to myself at the fond memory of innocence and hope.

I left my childhood monument and continued on the trail.

Cows and sheep occupied the the fields of the lane, all contently munching on the grass , this made me calm.

Animals have that affect, sometimes I prefer animals to people .

Then I saw It glistening , The reflection of the sky on the waters surface, like one of Monet's imaginative paintings.

The pond.

** I was 12 years old. It was a cold , freezing winter.

I was off from school as the snow and ice had destroyed the roads, so as any child would do they'd make use of the winter wonderland, so I did.

The pond was always frozen in this weather , so I decided to go ice skating with a few of my friends at the time .

They were happily skidding away on the ice with rosy cheeks from the sharp cold wind.

I went to join them in their bliss, but unfortunately the ice couldn't hold my weight ( I wasn't exactly a stick of a child , I loved my second helpings ). 

Anyway the ice on the pond cracked and I ended up falling through into the ice cold water. 

Humiliated and ashamed. 

My friends laughed and jeered at me , insulting me, calling me names , Little did they no the consequences that would have on me in years to come. 

The first chip off my already self esteem, the damage had started**

I zone out of my memory of the pond and return to the present .

Looking down at myself now I see the consequence.  Gaunt and thin my body screams back at me .

A tear slides down my pale cheek, quickly wiping it away , I continue impatiently down the lane .

My eyes spot the dark trail to the right of the narrow lane.

I remember that horrid dark lane.

Nervously I walk shakily off the main trail and stumble down the less unwelcoming one.

The wind changes, stronger, more aggressive wind takes shape making the branches quiver.

The clouds change to murky grey, light travels backwards.

Fitting weather for my next memory.

I begin shaking , feeling nauseous recalling the flashback, but I remind myself to stick with it.

** I was 14 years old. Just finished my second year in secondary school.

It was summer time and I was full of care free spirits from being free from academic responsibilities .

I also had my first boyfriend who I just started dating.

Being so young and my first love , although Ironically I had no idea what love was , I was infatuated by him.

He knew that and took full advantage of it , you see he was a good bit older than me, but being foolish, I didn't no right from wrong.

One summers evening, he wanted to bring me for a walk, as he said the weather was gorgeous ,and wanted to escape the watchful eye of my parents , who honestly didn't like him. 

I see why now.

We walked up the lane , laughing , holding hands, but something in the atmosphere didn't feel right.

His tone changed , he started acting aggressive towards me when I wasn't listening to him , being captivated by the beauty of nature.

It was only a moment , he started yelling screaming insults, tightening his grip on my wrist. 

 Forcefully Dragging me by my wrist into the darker lane , the next instance I felt  myself being knocked to the ground and blacked out .

The only memory I have after that was waking up in the pitch black , blacked and bruised , naked and dizzy and swollen.

He was a nightmare dressed like a daydream, I fell for it**

Snapping out of my traumatic memory I found myself crying and shaking violently .

My face was now blotched and red for tears but I had made it through it. 

I staggered quickly out of the dark lane and continued on my trail of the main lane , drained and exhausted .

Memory number 4. My hovel, it was my safe place to go whenever I felt troubled , whether it be the middle of night or the crack of dawn, being there just calmed , and connected me with nature to subside the torturous thoughts my mind was dwelling on.

I scrambled into my old hovel and sat there enjoying the peaceful atmosphere , processing all that I encounters today.

While moving around trying to comfortable , I felt myself touch something, Digging under the dirt , I found 3 medium sized bottles, I immediately dropped them, another memory .

*** I was 15 , It was Monday night. 

I was awake , hysterically crying in bed , my pillow soaked in tears, deciding i've had enough, I rolled out of bed, climbed out my window and tore to the lane, running, running , through the hail stone rain, tears streaming down,  invisible in the pitch of the night .

I reached my hovel and crawled in, with three bottles in my pocket I took whatever was in them and induced them into my system, not knowing what they were .

Soon after I passed out with the light of the moon glaring on me.

I thought this was it ,

It's finally over , 

I'm finally free .

I woke to the sounds of ambulances and distant sobbing with flashes of lights here and there.

Let's just say I was gone awhile***

Back to present, I scrambled out of the hovel, and continued walking , I had no idea were too.

A mixture of thoughts running through my mind.

Sometimes I just want to escape my reality.

My journey is only half done , but at least its a start.

I wish I was brainless,

I wouldn't be constantly at war with my mind, whereas if I was brainless I wouldn't have the ability to come up with such complex thoughts.

Or see the world through a microscope , 

maybe I would be happy 

My world is always black,

Glum and tear retching .

I fly into despair and madness my whole world crumbling around me

sucking me in.

I have to break free,

fly away,

Let the wind sweep my soul away piece by piece.

Maybe life was always a struggle , I just had less torment back then.

I reached the halfway point of the lane.

Perhaps there is a light at the end of my tunnel.