Freedom

[2011 'O' Level English Language Paper 1 Section 1 prompt.]

She was running away. What from, that, she would have to get back to you later -- there was too much adrenaline coursing through her veins, confounding her thoughts, like an overcast black cloud with few flashes of lightnings of recollections. She sensed the cool wetness of grass under her feet, the twinges of pain from the cuts and bruises on her limbs, metallic smell from slight lacerations near her thighs, chilly breeze coming from gaps through her torn skirt and blouse; all dampened from adrenalinic numbness. The undergrowth was thinning and she came upon a clearing; she picked up her pace even more, until the sky is covered again with lush green foliage. The open sky somehow instilled a deep fear inside her, as if she were a furry little rodent keeping out of the sight of the flying talons who rule the sky. Her body felt mechanical: her bare feet trod the muddy ground hard, her arms flailed with reckless rhythm, her breathing heavy and puffed; she was not in control of any of these -- her body had executed the self-preservation programme that seated her conscious mind in the backseat.
Sometime earlier, she was packing her bag. Passport, bank savings passbook, a few sets of clothes. She was prepared to leave for good. Her father might have gone easy with his beatings, but his demeaning words singed hotter than cigarette burns. She was going to another city across the country; putting hundreds of kilometers between her and him was a start -- it won't make those bruises on her back heal faster but maybe it will for those on her heart and soul. She was walking slowly to the bus station, burdened by luggage, doubts and uncertainties, when her father called her and beg her to at least meet him one more time for him to apologise. She stopped on her tracks and stomped hard on the ground -- she was going to say no, but in the end she relented. She should have known something was amiss when he asked her to meet not at their own home -- not that she thought of it as home anyway.

When she woke up, her father was standing over her, her savings in his clutch. Two men were holding her down. When her father walked away, the men started to grope and undress her. She tried to summon her strength, though whatever drug they gave her had sapped her force and will. The lump in her throat blocked her voice. Her memories were in bits and pieces after this. She remembered struggling, a few well-placed punches and kicks to the crotches, scratches to the faces, dental and jaw finger-grinding; she somehow managed to elude them. She ran to the woods. 

Once during his usual belt-whipping, her father had asked her, Who do you think you are? Thwack. Who are you? Thwack. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Who is she? The question was ringing in her ears. She didn't raise her voice, but her answers flashed loud and clear in her mind. A girl. An 18-year-old. A high school recent graduate. A ..., a daughter? She said her name. But this was wrong, too, because the thwacks did not stop. They were getting louder.

Exhaustion started to catch up to her, the clouds in her mind parted a little. Now she could tell you what she was running away from: her father, her rapists, herself, or rather the labels pasted on her masquerading as herself.

Up ahead, she saw the highway. The road was long and it extended beyond the horizon. Her father was not there, neither were her attackers, neither was her passport. She fell to her knees, looked up to the vastness of the sky, letting out a sobbing wail, finally freed from it all.

(637 words)