Trapped

I’m trapped, and I don’t even belong here.

The wind rattled the high beams, like a screeching elephant. The rain slowly dripped in from the holes in the barn, the water creating unavoidable puddles. This wasn’t that much of a better option than surviving the outdoors, but at least I could rest.

My socks were drenched in dirty, filthy mud-stained water. My jeans stopped being dry an hour ago.

Still, it was something. Something was better than nothing.

Then again, what did I have? I didn’t think much when I ran out the door. The only sounds I remember hearing belonged to my mother, likely telling me to stop. I remember her slicked back hair, her dark lipstick, her scowl. It was etched across her face almost permanently. I remember her hands, coarse and rough. Her hands never stopped shaking.

I think I remember hearing a dish break. I recognized the sound, as if I could pluck it from a track on an album that I’ve listened to so many times the player is worn and tired.

I’m tired. I missed out on dinner, which was a mistake. My stomach was gurgling almost as loudly as the rain smashing against the walls of this rickety barn. What was I thinking?

I wasn’t thinking. My breathing was still heavy, my hands still shaking, and my heart still racing. It was pounding out of my chest so fast and so loud I swear it was going to burst out of my body at any moment. The doctor’s voice kept ringing in my ears. The calming exercises he taught me weren’t even making sense.

At the moment, nothing was making sense.

What did make sense was that I couldn’t stay in this barn for long. Whoever lived in the house across the way surely saw some thin, slender figure race across the farm. It was dark, so maybe no one saw. It was late, but not late enough that I couldn’t squeeze in a couple hours of rest.

Not that there was much to offer in terms of a bed. There was an abundance of hay, most of it packed neatly away. Whoever owned this barn was tidy. It didn’t feel like a normal barn, but nothing about this night felt normal.

I have to calm my heart. I tried not to think of the argument I had with my mother just moments before I raced across the kitchen and leaped out of the back door. It was the same argument, repeated over and over again.

I didn’t do the dishes well enough. I didn’t clean the floors properly. My bed was unmade. The refrigerator was a mess. My homework wasn’t finished. My room was a disaster. My long, black hair was a mess. It never stopped, not even for a moment.

Day after day, coming home from school, narrowly avoiding the kids in the grade above me at the bus stop, only to come home and face someone worse.

Until the door to the barn creaked open.

It was like in the movies when something dramatic happened and everything slowed down. I stopped thinking about the cold rain at my feet, or my stomach churning. My heart started beating faster, the fastest it has ever moved in my entire life.

My hands started shaking again, my knees rattling so much it was like I was a super-powered character in a comic-book strip. A tall, intimidating figure slowly entered the barn, their arms outstretched holding a W.W. Greener shotgun.

I recognized those shotguns. My mom owned one.

Too many nights I would wake up in a pool of sweat to find the nose of the gun merely inches from my face, as I stared down the barrel to find my mom looking right back at me, eyes darker than the blackest night. At least some things don’t change. The person took one step into the dark barn, surveying the area. I hide well. It was the one thing I was really good at.

“Identify yourself”, said the figure.

The voice belonged to a woman. She sounded old, tired, but not nervous. Nope, that voice was anything but nervous. It was confident, assured, without any hesitation.

I had no idea what to do. If I came forward, surely this woman was going to ask me to leave. Or worse, actually shoot me. I had never run away from home before, even though I thought about it a lot. I had never sneaked into someone’s barn before, either.

The only time I ever interacted with a neighbor was to ask for eggs or milk. It was a little late to pretend to be doing that here. Strangers who need eggs don’t come sneaking into someone’s barn a quarter past midnight. Or whatever time it actually was.

“I’m not going to ask again. I saw you running across the field. I ain’t stupid.”

Well, that answers that.

“I’m sorry”. I’m not even sure if the woman heard that, it was more like a hushed whisper than any words that someone could hear, even in this barn.

“Did I stutter? I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked you to identify yourself. And I ain’t asking a second time.”

The woman cocked the shotgun.

“My name is Teddy”. I hadn’t gone by Teddy since I was a child, but it was the first words I was able to jumble out of my mouth.

“I don’t know a Teddy. So either you a stranger, or you a burglar. Which is it, Teddy?”

“Stealing hay wasn’t at the top of my to-do list tonight, ma’am.”

The moment those words left my mouth, I winced. I always have to open my big mouth and say something stupid. It’s one thing to say something stupid at school. It’s another to say something stupid in front of Mom. It’s a whole other matter to say something stupid in front of a complete stranger, with a cocked Greener.

“Oh, so you’re a comedian. I never liked comedians. Especially not loitering in my barn half past midnight. So answer my question!”

“I’m sorry… what was the question again?”

“You don’t listen too good, do you?” She definitely sounded angrier this time.

“I thought I did… I ain’t tryin’ to steal no angry woman’s hay tonight, ma’am.”

The woman, perhaps out of exasperation, lowered the shotgun and sighed. She rubbed her forehead, taking a moment to herself. This is the perfect opportunity to run. I could sprint right past her, the door was already ajar, and by the time she would notice I would be halfway to the trees. If there was one thing I was good at, it was running. My gym teacher thought so, anyway. “Ted, you stick to Track, and you can run right out of this town.”

He never said when.

“Look, Teddy, I’m tired. It’s been a long night. Why don’t you do the both of us a favor and just go home?”

“I can’t go home, ma’am. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“And why’s that?”

My heart kept on pounding. My knuckles were either sweaty, or wet from the rain. I crawled from underneath a haystack, and wiped off dirt on my ripped shirt. I walked to where the light illuminated a space patch of the ground. My knees were shaking so much I was pretty sure I was going to collapse before I even got to my feet.

“I just can’t, ma’am.”

The woman’s face dropped. She wasn’t good at hiding her reaction. It was clear she didn’t have much experience seeing what she did. When people saw bruises in this town, most of the time it was just shrugged off. Teachers didn’t care. I’d pass the hallways and walk right past adults who gave me one look, and then turned the other way.

I was so used to people not giving me a second look. Until now.

She set the shotgun on the haystack next to her and gently walked forward. The color had left her face, shining as white as the moon on a clear summer night. When she spoke, it wasn’t harsh like before. It was soft, faint, like turning down the sound on the TV.

“Why don’t you come in?”

Instinct had trained me to run. The door was open. There was a clear path. If there was ever a moment to escape from being trapped in this barn, the moment was now. There was something in this woman’s voice, though. It was soft, almost soothing. I couldn’t remember the last time someone spoke to me like that.

My eyes darted to the grassy fields beyond the barn. The woman noticed.

“Or, you could run. You could run for miles. Run until you can’t run anymore. The sun won’t be up for hours. I can’t promise the next farmhand will be kinder.”

“I’m used to that.”

Those words look like they broke the woman’s heart. She looked like it wasn’t the first time she had heard those words, even if she desperately wanted that to be the last. There was something hiding underneath those eyes, but it wasn’t anger, or fear. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, this soul has seen things no soul should bear witness.

“Then let me get you used to something better.”

The woman extended her hand. It wasn’t shaking. It was calm. It looked inviting, as if the woman was trying to say, you belong here.