S I E R R A
I needed to run away.
As I dashed through the dense, green forest, screams of horror pierced through the air, indicating that he found out that I was missing. Hearing the screams did not stop me. Instead, my pace picked up.
I knew that, by running away, I was being a coward.
But I had no other choice: if I stayed any longer with him, I would suffer.
Hours flew by, and I found myself dragging my sore feet to the top of a hill. Turning my head, I see thick, amorphous puffs of smoke expanding above the horizon, with the crimson flames giving them a sinister tinge of orange.
Immediately, my hands clamped my mouth as a wave of absolute horror washed over me.
Located many miles away from where I stood, some of the villages surrounding the Palace were set ablaze.
And those villages were certainly not foreign to me. The inhabitants had welcomed me with open arms: the men would harvest their most prized vegetables for me, the women would gift me their most beautiful handmade dresses, and the children would hum the sweetest songs to welcome me every time I visited.
And their home was being incinerated before my eyes.
All because of my cowardice.
All because of my selfishness.
All because of me.
"I'm sorry," I gasped, collapsing onto the ground, bursting into tears. "I'm very sorry."
To have one's blood on one's hand was something I read about, but never something I understood.
Until today.
My legs were numb, but I knew that I had to continue on. He would find me if I were to stop, and he would take me back to the Palace, which I did not want.
Wincing, I got on my feet. My dress was ripped. The sole of my boots were covered in thick mud. A quick scan of my surroundings assured me that I was lost, but I did not care, as long as I was not with him.
A couple of hours later, dawn broke out, and I knew then that I had been on the run for over six hours.
"I'm sorry," I whispered hoarsely, slowly sinking to the muddy ground.
The world around me was spinning. My eyes became heavier with each passing second.
Although the very thought of returning to him was repugnant, my heart was aching, yearning for his presence – for his touch. Just before oblivion took over me, a small part of me felt that I had made a mistake by choosing to leave him because...
I still loved him.
So very much.
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