The dark-haired girl pulled her red cloak tighter around her slender body as the wind blew through the tall trees around her. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the basket in her other hand.
A robin landed on the path in front of her and cocked its shy head inquisitively. She smiled as she stuck her hand under the red and white chequered cloth covering her basket and broke off a piece of one of the still warm rolls.
She withdrew her and and rubbed the piece of bread between her fingers so that crumbs dropped onto the dry leaves at her feet. She walked on and the robin hopped towards them, grateful for the easy source of food on the chilly autumn morning.
Anabel Hood followed the same path she did every week. Her feet walked on automatically along the trail while her thoughts soared around her head like an eagle caught in a hurricane.
They had been fighting again last night. They always did. She sighed in frustration as she remembered the stinging sound of a slap as her mother slapped her father and swore at him. She hated it so much. She had tried to report her but the policeman had simply laughed and told her that women didn't abuse their husbands. It always worked the other way.
Her grandmother's house was her only escape, her safe space. She tried to clear her mind, to calm down, to hide the emotions bubbling up inside of her. Saturday was her escape day. She needed to hide it. At least until she got home.
When she got home that evening she could turn to Tristan Grey, her Internet friend who she talked to during the long nights filled with sounds shouts and slaps. He comforted her. He loved her. He was the rock she needed in a life that was a never-ending tumultuous sea.
But for now, for now she was free.
YOU ARE READING
Into the Woods
Short StoryEver since she was thirteen years old Anabel has visited her grandmother every Saturday afternoon without fail. Come rain, snow or sunshine she always walked through the Lonely Wilds Wood to her grandmother's cottage. Saturday after Saturday passed...
