———

I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I have been here for three months. I have starved myself, I have been starved for three months. And I'm going to die. Desperation is banging its fists on my insides. Desperation is screaming its throat raw in every part inside me. Hunger gnaws at my bones, gnaws at my gut, gnaws at my flesh and at my blood. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this anymore.

My mind is screaming. Screaming at me to stop this. My mind is screaming at me to make this stop. Except I can't. I can't make this stop. I don't have that kind of power. I don't have any power. All I can do is let this happen to me, no matter how desperate, no matter how infuriated I am. And I am going to die. I just know that I'm going to die.

Death looms over me. It watches everything that I do. It is like a shadow over me. It is like my shadow, trailing behind my each and every thought, my each and every action. It is a dreadful presence, constantly pressing upon my mind, constantly pressing upon my heart. Death is my only companion these days, and I do not know whether I am grateful for this companion or not. I do not know whether I am grateful for this pressing presence or not.

Part of me wants to die. Part of me wants to just let this all go. To let this jagged, tearing, grating existence go. The Universe knows that there is nothing good about life. The Universe knows that there's nothing worthwhile in existing. I feel guilty for thinking this, because I know this train of thought is not really allowed. But still, it's true, it's true, it's true. And no amount of judgement will stop it from being so horribly, undeniably true,

But despite all this, despite how hard my life is, how hard it's always been, I just cannot bear to let my life go. There is something inside me, stronger than a thousand hurricanes, that wants to live, that wants so desperately to live. It won't let me let go of this life, no matter how much I want to, no matter how much I try. I don't know where this part of me came from. I don't know if it's new or if it's always been there. But it feels older than anything ever has felt before. It feels older than I am. It feels ancient.

The part of me that wants to live tells me that I need to get out of here, I need to get out of here, it doesn't matter how, but I need to get out of here. I have to find a way to leave this place. I have to find a way to get some food. No matter what it will cost me. No matter who I will end up having to betray. No matter what I will end up having to do.

But no, I can't think that. I can't let myself think that. I have to be loyal to my family. I have to be loyal to the people who took me in and took care of me and raised me. That means I have to listen to my mother and I have to do what she told me and I have to make the sacrifices she has called upon me to make. I owe her that much. I owe them all that much. No matter how unbearably much all of this hurts, no matter what I feel in my body and in my heart and in my mind and in my soul.

But as I am lying here, in my bed, cold despite the fact that it's summer, cold despite the fact that I'm under many blankets, I ache. I ache so much. My entire body aches, but it's more, it's so much more than just my body. My entire soul aches, my mind aches, my heart aches, every part of me aches. It's as if I have thousands of clawing nails in my chest, in my stomach, in my abdomen, in my back. It's as if I am being torn apart, being disintegrated from the inside out. It's as if there is fire in my limbs, fire in my core, fire all over me that is slowly, slowly burning me away.

I feel feint and weak and lightheaded and dizzy. I am so dizzy. So, so very dizzy. It's as if I am on the verge of unconsciousness. Though I suppose that I am. I'm not just of the verge of unconsciousness, I'm on the verge of death. I'm about to die. I'm about to die. It takes so much effort and concentration to keep myself here. It takes so much effort and concentration to keep myself holding onto my consciousness and my life. It's exhausting. So exhausting. I'm exhausted. So exhausted.

I almost want to give in. I almost want to let go of my tentative hold on life. I almost want to let death take me. And so I do. I do let go. My mind is falling, falling, falling. My entire consciousness is falling, falling, falling. This is liberation. It's freedom.

I bolt upright in bed, using a heaving bellow of energy I didn't know I had. I feel fear. I feel fear. I feel an incredible surge of fear pulsing through my body, blaring through my mind, ripping through my soul. All I can feel is this fear. I can't let myself die. I can't let myself die. I can't let myself die. I don't know why. Dying would honestly be better. But I can't let myself do that.

I want to die, I want to die, I so very much want to die. But the feeling that pushes through my body and pulls me to action is my desire to live. And my desire to live might not be stronger than my desire to die, but it's the desire that gives me energy, it's the desire that forces my actions, it's the desire that makes me act. It makes me act and no other action can push through my mind and manifest as action. I need to live.

I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. I'll die if I don't get out of here. They're trying to kill me. They're trying to kill me. It doesn't make sense why they're trying to kill me, but at the same time, it makes perfect sense. I'm not really a part of this family. I'm not really a part of these people. If they had to sacrifice anyone, they'd choose me. But it doesn't matter what the reason is. I won't let them do this.

I won't let them, I won't let them, I won't let them. They won't win, they won't win, they won't win. I can't let them win. But I wonder, will I lose?

I have to think of a plan to get out of here now. I have to get out of here now. Out of this locked room. Our of this false, sugary, heartless house. Out of this piece of land and maybe even out of this community. I have to get out, I have to get out, I have to get out. If I stay here then that will be it, I will be done. But if I get out, then that will be rebellion. That will be rebellion, that will be revolution, it will be mutually assured destruction. And I don't care. I don't care if I destroy myself. As long as I bring the plans of my not mother and my not sisters with me.

I step on my hard wooden desk. The window is as big as I am. I open the window to my room, and then step out onto the window sill, holding the edges of the frame in both hands. There is a large aspen tree brushing against the window. I reach out to grab it, and then climb it down. It feels like nothing I have ever felt before, being up in this tree. It feels like protection, like love, like comfort, like care.

The last ten feet or so I have to jump down, there are no tree branches here, only trunk. I feel fear wash over me. But I realize that if I don't jump, I will quite literally die in this tree, on my not mother's land. And so I do jump. And I hit the ground and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts so much. My arms and legs ache overwhelmingly, and I feel as if I have died.

But I haven't. I haven't died. And I won't die. Not if this desperation inside me has anything to say about it. I know that I have to get up. The thing that I have to do next is to get up and start walking. So, despite how weak and dizzy I am, despite how smothered and aching I am, I have to get up and I have to use the last remaining bits of my energy to start walking.

The last remaining bits of my energy. The last remaining bits of my energy. I know right now that my energy is slipping through my fingers. I know right now that I have barely any energy left. I don't know where my ability to move is even coming from at this point, but the point still stands that I have this ability. I have this ability still and I have to use it. I have to use it in order to get myself out of here.

So I push myself up. And I pray. I don't know who I pray to. All the gods of my past have come from the mouth of my not mother. All the gods of my past have been the gods that she believed in. And I cannot believe in those same gods. Not after everything she has done to me. Not after everything she has done to me year after year after year after year, for all of my life. But I know. I know there are better gods out there. I know there are deeper gods out there. Gods which she doesn't know about and which she will never understand. I don't know who they are, but I pray to them. I pray to them to give me strength and help me.

I start walk through the thick woods outside my bedroom window. The thick woods that are cover, for now. The woods that are help for now. The woods are strength. They have always been strength, and right now the strength they give me is pressing into me, is filling me with courage, is filling me with hope. The trees cover me, the shrubs and bushes cover me, the herbs and grasses cover me. The mosses and lichens cover me. And they all conceal my form, and give me their power, as I walk towards the thin, twisting road that connects the house to the main road.

I continue walking towards the end of the road connecting my mother's property to the main road. I do not get on this road, because I do not want to be seen. Instead, I follow the road, hiding in the tree cover beside it, in the thick tapestry of tall forest that will cover me. I thank the trees for their help, and I hear them thank me back. For what purpose I do not know why. They cover me. They protect me. They hide me from prying eyes. They are alive. They are alive. They are so very alive and they give me life. And for that I am awestruck.

I keep walking. It is beyond arduous, the simple act of walking. It is nearly impossible. But I push myself on. I push myself on and I push myself on and I push myself on. Through my exhaustion. Through my aching. Through everything inside me that is screaming at me to lay down and die. The part of me that is screaming at me to go on and live is more powerful. And so, even though each step requires tremendous effort, even though each step is an ache, each step is a feat of incredible strength, and each step requires immeasurable force, I go on.

I finally reach the place where the main road connects to the property. I am away from the little town that exists in the trees. I am on the highway now. I will miss the forest dearly but I won't miss the people who live in it. It felt like it took forever getting here. But here I am, and the next part of my journey is complete. I slip through the gate and look out at the road.

I have two choices in front of me now. I could go southwest to the city. Or I could go northeast to the highway. I think for a moment.

If I go to the city, it will be easier for me to find something to eat, some source of food, some helpful person, anything at all. It will be easier for me to beg or even dumpster dive for food. But, they'll all be expecting me to go to the city. When my mother inevitably calls the police, they will all think that I went to the city, for the aforementioned reasons. So they will search the city, not the highway. And if I take the highway, there's a lower chance of me being found. But still, there are a lot more places to hide in the city. There are many more streets, and there are many more alleys and nooks and crannies. In the highway, there is only one stretch of road.

I make a decision. I'll go to the city. Yes, maybe I'll be found. But maybe I'll find a way to live. My chances are much higher there. And there aren't really any good options. I just have to do what is the best option.

This is so unfair. It's so unfair that I have to be doing this. It's so unfair that I have to leave my whole life behind. I have to leave my home behind. And yet, yet my whole life has never truly been mine. And my home had never truly been mine either. It has only been the place I was forced to stay in, back when I didn't know any better and couldn't question what I'd been taught. I have never had a home. I have never had a life. I had only had survival and now I might not even have that. It's unfair. It's unfair. It's so very unfair.

I start crying. I know I'm wasting energy. I know I'm wasting water. But I can't help myself. It's all so very unfair, and the emotions inside me are swirling and whirling and completely maddening. I have to get these emotions out somehow. I have to communicate what I'm feeling somehow, even if I'm just communicating with the rows and rows of trees that line the road as it stretches towards the city.

I never had a way to communicate what I was feeling inside. I never had a way to communicate that, and I always had to keep it to myself. I always had to keep everything to myself. And that's so unfair. That is so deeply unfair. And I have to, I just have to let it out now. I have to tell the trees. I have to tell the grass, I have to tell the wind, I have to tell the sun, I have to tell the earth, I have to tell the sky.

The sun shines bright up above me and there are no clouds to be seen. And yet I'm so cold. I'm so cold. I'm so very deeply cold.

Yet despite that, the sky is blue above me. It is bright. It is brilliant. It is alive. And it gives me some of its energy, it gives me some of its vitality, it gives me some of its spirit, it gives me some of its life. The earth is firm and strong and full of life beneath me. It is life. It is death. It is life and death together as one. And it holds me. It supports me. It gives me strength. The sun is a fire and it fuels the fire inside me. It keeps the fire that is in me alive, so that I can stay alive. Each and every breath that I take connects me with the world, it connects me with the spirit of life that is in all of nature. And it is glorious, glorious, so much more glorious than anything I have ever experienced before.

I cry from the happiness just as much as I cry from the pain. I cry from the happiness that comes with the fact that this world loves me, this world loves me, this world loves me. The earth and the air and the fire and the water and the sun and the moon all love me, just as much, just as strongly, just as deeply as they love anyone else. And I realize this now. And, on the brink of death, I feel more alive than I have ever been.

[scene continued in next part]