On the Run by M Zeigler (short story to read TXT) 📖

All items hit the floor with a loud crash, the bowl shatters into many fragments, the sound is startling, with a shriek I jump only to end up stepping in the glass.

“Bonnie!” Barrette says my name firmly with worry as he moves to his feet; in a flash he lifts my now seemingly tiny form away from the broken glass. Hearing Barrette speak my name causes the flash backs to clear away leaving a cold and very nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. My breathing is still labored and I’m shaking like a leaf.

“Calm down, Bonnie.” Barrette encourages trying to make me look at him, when the room stops spinning enough that I can see the look Barrette is giving me I begin to feel like an idiot for such an outburst. With unneeded anger I wrench away from Barrette and run straight out the front door. Barrette calls after me but I don’t listen, instead I keep running knowing I won’t be able to face him after a meltdown like that.

Tree’s blitz by as I continue running through the forest not caring how far away from the cabin I am, that is until a black ghostly form appears and shatters the last of my panic attack. The moment I see that phantom like silhouette in the trees ahead of me I try to stop, there is only one problem with my attempt. I’m standing on thick layers of wet pine nettles, have you ever slipped in wet leaves? I have, and it’s even harder on pine nettles! With a mute thud I land rear first in the swampy dead foliage, the little pointy nettles prick my skin causing a fair amount of pain. I cannot peel my eyes away from the dismal figure that is now slowly approaching me.

It’s the same shrouded entity that was in the Market back in Nevada City, I can almost see the face of this looming person though. Whoever this is has very pale white skin, and brings with him a coldness that is far more bitter than any winter wind. Not even Mount Everest could dream of being this frigid in the middle of winter! 

“Running is not the answer.” I hear this man speaking in a voice so deep and quiet I almost wonder if he even spoke at all.

“What…who? Who are you?” I gape back trying to slide away from whoever this is standing before me, I don’t know if this thing is dangerous or not. Something tells me that I don’t want to find out either!

“Running is not the answer, face your fears and you to shall be free.” It speaks again this time reaching down towards me.

“NO!” I shriek leaning away from this creature, with panicked motions I try to roll to my feet but end up sliding in the pine nettles again and end up on my stomach. “Bonnie!” Someone is shouting my name now, Barrette I think. “Stay away from me!” I scream out, not to whoever is calling out for me but at the creature still trying to reach out for me.

“Bonnie! Hey! Stop!” Barrette’s shouting brings this possibly evil entity to look away from me, the moment it sees Barrette it vanishes.

“Damn it, Bonnie.” I hear Barrette rumble when I feel his arms wrap around me, the cold that was radiating from that thing vanishes the moment I am off the ground.

“I’m sorry Barrette, I’m sorry.” I squeal sounding like a defenseless child; I used to say the very same thing to Michael before Barrette taught me to stand up for myself. 

 “It’s okay Bonnie; we’ll work on it you will get there.” Barrette speaks, daring to take one last look over Barrette’s shoulder to where the creature was standing I see a bear cub looming in amongst some rocks with its mother looking directly at Barrette and I defensively. I almost ran right into the bear cub, if I had of come any closer that mother grizzly would have had me for lunch.

Back at the cabin and with a now upset stomach I waste no time in finding my plate and picking up one of the rabbit legs and start eating in hopes that the food will help settle the sickly feeling within me. I’m not so worried about the panic attack as much as I am over the whole shadowy creature looming in the trees outside. Was I visited by Clyde Barrow? Maybe that is why Bonnie was here? Maybe she was warning me to stay away from Clyde, perhaps trying to say that he is going to force me to stay with Barrette?

 As I’m eating I can almost hear Barrette wondering why I am so torn between stepping into gods light or running with the devil. If only he knew everything I’ve been through maybe he would start to understand, but like I’ve been told so many times, my past is no excuse to behave the way I do now. That is reason number, whatever, as to why I prefer to be alone, if I’m alone there is no one to answer to, no one to discuss things with, just me, myself, and my memory. This same reason is one of many that I prefer to remain drunk all the time, being on the road so much is making it hard to drink all the time which is why I’m probably having so many flash backs. I think I am slowly but surely going one hundred percent insane.

“Barrette, I’m sorry for freaking out like that.” I apologize as we both finish off the food on our plates; Barrette shakes his head no while reaching for my plate. “I don’t understand why that happened, but whatever the reason is, whoever initially caused you to fear the good lord like that. They won’t hurt you again.” Barrette pledges as he moves to his feet, I watch him cross to the kitchen and dump the food remnants into the garbage, then deposit both plates into the sink.

Even though Barrette forgives me, I cannot forgive myself, I should be stronger than this, I should have let everything go the moment I left Michael’s presence…what has it been now, five days ago? Michael can’t hurt me anymore, I’m safe with Barrette, surely he has shown me that much by now.

“I do know one thing, Bon.” Barrette says looking back at me; he’s leant against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression is understanding yet intimidating, in a very authoritative way. The way a couple would discuss, I don’t know, getting a dog I guess; or something equally as important.

“You need to work on control; I can’t begin to imagine everything you have been through-

“But my actions are un-called for and out of control. I know, you’re not the first person to say that.” I interrupt Barrette whilst looking about the room for anything to distract me from this conversation.

“Actually, I was going to say that you need to realize that you are not alone you cannot keep tormenting yourself like this. What happened to you, that was not your fault, sure you made bad choices but that is no excuse for what has been done to you. Confront the problem Bonnie, whatever the problem is, confront it and get over it.” Barrette says, after he finishes his sentence he turns back to the sink to finish scraping the food off the dishes.

As much as I hate to admit it, Barrette is right to say what he just said. I’m not alone; it’s obvious that even a killer cannot keep this red neck Romeo away from me. I’m not sure if I should feel better or worse that he is going to be there for me for a long time.

I look at the far wall at the head board of the bed and make the snappy mental decision to try and explain to Barrette what has happened to me in the year I lived with Michael.

“They hated me you know, the goody two shoed Christians in that town…They were awful.” I start to try and explain to Barrette, apparently that haunted feeling starts to show up on my face because Barrette steps over to me only to kneel down to my height. “Like I said, it won’t happen again. Those people will never hurt you anymore.” Barrette promises, I nod to his reassuring look trying to communicate that I understand his words.

“And Michael, he was horrible, he would get so angry over simple things; like one night he tried to kill my mother because she didn’t use the dish towel that matched the kitchen hand towel. I ended up having to knock him out with a skillet just to get him away from my mother. I explain after taking the time to force back the emotions surging through me.

As I adjust the blankets I realize these are the ones my grandfather left behind, I also remember that Barrette and I forgot to stop at the bank and then go next door to get new bedding.

Deciding that the bedding might come in handy later on down the line I start to pull everything off the bed and fold it up nice and neat so that it will fit someplace in the trunk of the Mustang. On a second thought I begin to wonder how my grandfather kept these blankets so nice and orderly since it’s been close to eleven or more years that anyone has stepped foot into this place.  Once I’m finished folding I look over to Barrette who is still waiting for me to speak.

“Normally he came after me, I guess he blamed me for not having all the money he used to. That or he felt threatened by me because my mother always took my side with everything and they were married, he felt he should be the center of attention. I don’t know, all I know is that between all the people in town who hated me for not being religious, and then Michael who just hated me; sometimes certain things trigger flash backs.” There isn’t much else I can see to that because I don’t remember much else; sure I remember every beating, and every neglectful moment. God knows I’ll never forget the literally broken house, the mouse infested even we couldn’t use, the gaping holes in the floor and ceiling. In detail, I cannot recall why something as simple as a prayer can cause me to go into a panicked fit.

Pushing aside the thought process for the time being, I turn around to lift up the mattress, I’m curious as to how my grandfather kept the bedding safe for so many years. Under the bed are two plastic totes that have latches on them, I give a light laugh when I can almost hear my grandfather talking to me. Not as dumb as you I are think.’ My grandfather would have said intentionally speaking the sentence wrong to make his comment funny.

 “And now she’s laughing.” Barrette scoffs disbelievingly, I look up at him and shake my head for him not to ask, I really don’t want to explain my grandfather’s simplicity when cracking a joke, some of his jokes could have you laughing ten years down the line when you remember the conversation or situation that lead up to the punch line. 

Since Barrette finished up the breakfast mess and cleared the table I start on the important task of the day.

 “So, when I took off back at Alden’s tour bus I lead Andrew’s SUV into Azusa canyon. Devon joined the chase, half way up the canyon Devon ran Andrew off the road into the river. I think that is why Marty wasn’t at the roof top shoot out; I can only assume he died in the crash. Anyways I led Devon through the canyon down to a mud bog and stopped sharp so that he drove his precious sixty six corvette off the road into the bog.” I