A Place Where Only We Can Be

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Relief

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Relief.

Soon enough, the dirt burying me was slowly dissolving, the fractures of air trickled through into my lungs. The oxygen transported to my head, finally allowing concrete thoughts to come through instead of fear taking over. My mouth struggled to come up with coherent sentences, so I stayed quiet, following behind Davina.

She stormed out of the room like she was on a mission and no one could stop her from completing it. Before I knew it, we were speeding down the road, with the building miles behind us. Every mile made it easier to breathe; knowing my father couldn't lay a hand on me was a sense of clarity.

I hadn't realized how deeply rooted the fear has gotten. The day I left good for home was one of the hardest things I had to do. I tried giving them a chance to get better and live as a normal family, but they resisted. Instead of saying peaceful goodbyes, my father marked me with a black eye and a bruised rib.

"Milo understood. He's going to get us out of the shooting. Probably some bullshit lies about us being sick or something," Davina stated, pushing the switch down to turn left.

"Thank you." was all I could muster.

Davina removed one of her hands from the steering wheel and wrapped it around mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's the least I can do."

Silence enveloped in the air. The classical music on stereo grew louder as our voices stayed muted. My eyes wandered over to Davina. Her forehead had two crease lines from how concentrated she was on getting to a location. All I was happy about was being away from that bastard who thought he could come to fix things.

Star filled the sky like pale corn into freshly turned ground. It was a promise of life in the darkness, a sense of warmth springing from the cold. The black heavens hugged each star as a sweet and loving mother. With my attention fully on the sky, I failed to hear the engine shutting off and Davina exiting the car.

When I noticed she wasn't near me anymore, I heard the back door open, and she said, "It's your lucky day. I just so happen to have camping supplies for our little getaway."

I leaped down from the car and went to go help her. "Who would have these supplies on hand?"

"You aren't the only person who likes running away from things." Her tone was serious, yet she playfully shuffled her feet in the sand.

I juggled two hammock lounger chairs, an eight-person camping tent with a screen, and three luxury collection mattresses in my hands. "I don't like running away. It's just I."

She placed her finger over my mouth. The odor of flowery essence wafted from it. "I'm joking. I understand the feeling of being tongue-tied in front of people. It creeps on you when you least expected and feels like nothing can help unless you get away."

Oddly for being a girl who hated any kind of relationship, she seemed to know a lot about them. Our relationship wasn't always fifty/fifty since I wasn't afraid to tell her everything while she kept herself at hand's length. Yet she would drop subtle hints like this as if she wanted me to pry in and find out more.

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