by Jenika Snow
But now I was truly, utterly alone. It wasn't safe for me out in that world. Hell, it wasn't even particularly safe to venture out the front door. But I had to survive. Staying here would lead to me being captured.
The supplies I had wouldn’t last, and if I stayed any longer I'd end up dying in this house.
I was young, had my whole life ahead of me, and I wasn't going let some disgusting, barbaric and ritualistic society deem what I could or couldn't do.
I had to leave this place. I had to make my way farther up north and hope that I found something better. I had to hope that I could find a life that was filled with more than just looking over my shoulder and wondering how much I was worth to the highest bidder.
I started shoving supplies in a bag, anything nonperishable that I could take with me. I didn't want to particularly leave at this moment, but the house wasn't safe.
Once the bag with the supplies was packed and I was out the front door, I turned around and looked at the only place I’d ever known as home. Memories of my childhood, of the love my parents had for me, filled my head and had me smiling. I would miss this place, miss the age and the smell of dust and mold that sometimes permeated the air.
I had to do this for myself. I just hoped in the end I wouldn’t regret it.
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About the Author
Find Jenika at:
www.JenikaSnow.com
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