Running From Safety

"Just, put the gun down," she smiled sweetly, backing away slowly as her father-figure side-stepped toward her. Maybe he didn't mean to hurt her, although she already knew better. "We can work this out!" Her smile widened to show more teeth, eyes brimming with tears at what the man had to do. Her attacker's poker face stayed unfazed as he cocked the weapon in his hands with a sickening 'click'. To him, this was all just routine. Abigail faltered. The wooden door of her childhood home came up behind her as she stumbled backwards into it. "Oh." She whispered in denial. It was a feeble idea that she could change her people's ways now. "But we can still…"
"Abigail." Her father warned as the young charcoal-haired girl stretched out a welcoming hand to him. The barrel of the gun wavered slightly to her right, where the door's handle gleamed from the over-head lamp's light.
The girl moved her arm down gently to hold herself around her middle. Something told her it didn't have to be this way. She was frowning now. With a tear rolling down her cheek to land on her dusty green shirt, she reached for her only assurance of survival. Even if she wasn't really ready to leave, it was her own ignorance that had landed her here. She rest her hand on the brass handle and pushed, not daring to turn to the night's opening maw.

"B-but I'm your… daughter." Abigail stuttered without conviction, thinking maybe being family would mean something. Suddenly she flinched. A bullet went whizzing right past her head and into the black. She gulped, clamped her eyes shut, and ran, a shower of metal following after her feet as she heard the gun load and load again as the sound got further and further away. The heel of Abigail's left palm found her eyes and dug in one at a time, removing all traces of moisture.

After what she could guess was an hour of running, which was greatly hindered by her long tattered gypsy skirts and leather-clad feet, she finally stopped and collapsed in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't right for them to kick her out. Her brother wouldn't protect her, her mother wouldn't even say goodbye, her sisters, her pride and joy, would definitely not miss her; and her allusive father just shot at her. It all made her so desperate and angry. But it wouldn't turn this girl into a broken record. In fact, she was brought up to expect it all. She just thought maybe it would be different for her, though she couldn't come up with a reason why. Yet wasn't it rational to want that? If she could only believe their contempt was a lie, that she could be worthy of affection.
On the outer planets – barely aligned with the Galactic union – it is natural to keep only those who can provide for the family. This was more than that. Abigail couldn't do well enough for the house, was never in their favor, and being of age to fend for herself- was only a loose end in need of cutting. Or, in her case, shooting. But she had fair warning, and it wasn't as if she'd starve. If her mother looked at her with hard eyes that made her cringe and fear all women, at least she taught her daughter a viable trade. With her dance and her looks Abigail could at least afford to keep food in her stomach. The thought cheered the 15 year old up a little yet drained her hope all the more.
"I have GOT to get off this planet." She whimpered, lying on her side in the dirt. There was no civilization for miles, even after an hour of running past her small village. And with her malnutrition there was no way she had the energy to get anywhere now. Still, Abigail was smart. She knew there was a space port due west of her position even if she didn't remember visiting there with her mother nearly 11 years ago. If she could rest a while, bring herself to dance in the streets, then maybe she'd earn enough money to barter passage out. Or she could work for a crew. She wondered about that, yawning tiredly. The proposition warmed her slightly. Story books were all the excitement she had ever known.

Once, when she was very small, the prospect of dance was something to look forward to learning. That was long before she knew how many times her mother would beat her for a missed step. How she'd be forced to put weight on twisted ankles and dance on hot coals. Abigail would never go near a woman again if she had a choice. Absentmindedly she massaged her feet, not having to switch positions due to her flexibility. She longed to prove that somewhere in the Etherium existed a world where the people, being better off, were not as cruel.

When her thoughts started to lose reason and her mind went numb from it, Abigail slipped easily into slumber.

Everyone who got kicked out, got forgotten. Everyone who got forgotten, got lost. And the only sure way to get lost on a small and poor planet was for her to get the hell off.


{A/N}: I wasn't really planning on making this a fanfiction when I started, but other fanfic works that starred an elusive Captain James Hawkins did delight me so. I can't promise he'll show up much, but I can promise you'll see him soon. I hope Abigail didn't come off too mary-sue. As always, relax, read, and review. And here's to having a gypsy instead of a pirate for once, eh? ;)