▪︎●▪︎
It was Christmas night. Clara was nineteen, I was eighteen.
We knew something was wrong when Clara turned of age to be released from the orphanage. She was an adult, she was old enough, but still, she wasn't allowed to leave.
We had been planning it for weeks. That day had finally arrived. Christmas night.
It was snowing and piling up fast.
After Ethel had visited and everyone had fallen asleep, Clara and I rose from our beds quietly and crept to the door.
Clara used her pillow case to stuff in essentials. We wore two of everything to keep ourselves warm.
We crept down the stairs and past the dining hall, the door to the orphanage only six feet away when we heard footsteps.
Following with a cane.
The lights flickered on, and Sara howled, yelling for someone to catch us. We ran for the door and burst out into the frigid air and snow.
We ran as fast as we could, the snow up to our knees.
We went for the woods where we could hide in between the trees.
There were men carrying flashlights as they ran after us.
We picked each other up when we stumbled.
We hid in between the trees. The men, some we recognized, ran past us, going deeper into the dark woods.
Clara and I ran the opposite direction, putting distance between the men and the orphanage.
It was Christmas night. She was nineteen, I was eighteen.
That's how we escaped.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Touch Her
Romance"What did he - Where did he touch you?" His voice had hardened, mad. I swallowed and looked down. "You son of a-" He walked off the porch, angrily running his hands through his hair. "What did he look like? I'm swear I'm gonna kill him. Tell me what...
