The Trail (MAJOR EDITING IN PROGRESS)

Part 6: A Dangerous Mind

I click the lock button on my key fob and zip up my bright red North Face jacket. After readjusting my pistol belt, I look towards the mountainside. The trail looms above; the road to it now being used more frequently, though it is still as dismal as when I first came here all those years ago.

Well, not completely.

I inhale the fragrance of evergreen trees that had begun to show their color not long after Holland and I escaped by the skin on our backs. In Holland's case, that isn't the case. Holland has scars of claw marks across his back, a testament to how much he cares for me.

I too, escaped with scars. There is a permanent thatch of scar tissue on my cheek, my legs have burn marks on them, and I lost two toes on my left foot.

But those are only the physical scars. Alcohol and cough medicine starting tasting pretty good, and it took awhile for you to stop. Thank God you've got a family who stayed by you, and a boyfriend you could keep.

He had refused to come, saying he didn't want to relive this place, and I don't blame him. It's not like it was roses and unicorns here.

I put the key in my pocket, and I set off, walking towards the opening in the trees that is much more prominent than it was beforehand.

I pull my Garmin GPS from my fanny-pack, turn it on, and then shut it off once again.

"You should call your mom, just in case there's not anymore reception out here," Holland said as he looked down at his own phone.

"Good idea."

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts of memories.

"This isn't the time for that yet," I spoke to the crisp calming air.

I walk through the widened break in the trees which shows the path covered in frozen puddles of water and dead leaves. The smell of rotting wood and growing plants assault my nostrils with gleeful abandon. Birds in the canopy up above call back and forth, and small squirrels and rabbits flit about, giving this place a life that was absent when I came here the first time.

Most of the trees here are old, but some new ones have taken the places of the dead ones, and the trunks of the dead house families of moss and ants. Many of the trees have large trunks with hollows in them, and in these hollows are glimmering objects belongings to packrats.

I inhale the smell of damp and rotting wood and continue on, delighting in the sound of my feet sliding through the dirt and over the ice. I lift my face into the light of the sun, and feel the light and shadow dance across my skin. This is what I'd once been missing, and even now it doesn't get old. The feeling of freedom in the outdoors, the feeling of breathing in the fumes of Mother Nature, and almost all of what she has to offer, is not something that just anyone notices. People ignore the joys of the outdoors to indulge in things like computers and television. Then again, I suppose I'm a hypocrite considering the major I have in college as of now.

A light summer breeze stirs up some of the branches, causing the rustling of leaves to create a resonating melody of insects, animals, and the wind.

I let out a joyful screech and spin around in a circle, throwing my arms out in all directions.

"Nothing can hurt me anymore, and no one can take anyone from me!" I shout with giddiness to the skies camouflaged above.

As I came to the fork in the trail, I went to the left, and walk for a ways, noticing how this path has a slight amount of usage on it.

I know I'm in the right place now.

Soon, I came to a dead end comprised mountain face and a cemetery with a crumbling stone wall encasing its borders. On all sides of the clearing are the aged trees and light sprinklings of dead leaves that are being decomposed. Looking to the ground I notice a few bouncee-balls and baseballs.