Landscapes are not neutral, static places. We are able to transform them in our minds.
I could feel the hammering of my heart as I raced up the drive. Its crashing against my ribcage matched my ragged and uneven breaths, each sharp intake of air more painful and more desperate than the last. My boots pounded against the gravel, the sound of my steps filling my head and clouding out any other thoughts then what was pushing me so far and so fast.
I had only one thought.
Stop him.
As I threw the front door open I saw his fists go down again and again, the sound a sickening thump each time it made impact. When his hand hit her cheek, it was more sound than feeling: a pop like a distant hammer hitting a nail, but it radiated through my body and made my legs shake. She scrambled for balance but her hand missed the table and he watched her fall.
Stop him. Hurry.
As her head landed on the floor with a muted thud, I was suddenly standing between them, on the balls of my feet, fists clenched, back straight, without any recollection of the seconds between making the decision to move and the actual movement. I heard her rough breathing behind me. It hitched and burned in her throat as she went through the mechanics of inhaling and exhaling. His eyes blazed with my betrayal. He was far from done. I could see it in the tense slope of his shoulders and the constant flexing of his hands. I had to stop him. The anger was now directed to me, not for the first time but the bristling of his arms made me think it might be the last. His body coiled and I instinctively raised my forearms to protect my face. His fist connected with my stomach with a soundless blow and whoosh, air left my lungs so quickly my throat almost tore open.
Stop him. Now.
I couldn't move. My thoughts crashed explosively across the floorboards in front of me, out of reach and in time with the erratic rhythm of my heart. My knees threatened to give way, to slip down into the dark where it hurt less. I braced forward as he prepared to swing again, his body encompassed my vision, the black spots dancing along the edges. Sound exploded in my right ear, searing bright lights flashed across my eyes, forcing out the black to burning white. The pain was everything and everything was pain. My knees were slowly liquefying, threatening to give way. To fall was to show weakness, it was to encourage more agony.
I pressed my weight down to the soles of my feet, to the slick wood beneath and gathered what was left inside of me, anything that was left. I bent down and placed my hand on her shoulder, her brown eyes wide with fright and anticipation of the next blow. I breathed in. I breathed out. I let the time slow around me, each fleck of light and dust abruptly evident in the air. I flicked my eyes up and noticed everything, the overturnedcoffee table, torn pages of books, split drinks and the feeling that reality was a second away from a cataclysm. Then it was gone.
Immediately the temperature dropped several degrees. The air was scented with green and growth and water. The light was golden through the trees. We were in the woods. Again the notion of lost time between the thought and the action of wanting to be here and then being here made my brain hurt. This was a beautiful, old wood, all massive oak and ash trees finding footing among great slabs of stone. The trees were larger now, some of them grown together in trunks like castles, turreted and huge. The canopy soared overhead, rustling and reverent. Everything was green, green, green. For a brief moment, I thought I heard music. The realness of the place that I had only ever seen in my mind, a place that I had imagined, that I believed only existed because I had willed it too, made me dizzy. I turned towards her and saw her expression of awe and wonder mirrored mine. I recognised the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness. It was the same way that I sometimes looked at the stars.
"I feel like I've been here before"
I didn't know how to answer. How could I tell her that we were standing in a forest because I wanted us to be here and not there? That I knew which way the trees bent against the wind because I had spent many moments hiding myself in the crevices they formed to escape from the darkness that haunted my reality. I wasn't sure it was right to tell her; moreover I wasn't sure it felt true. Standing next to her in this very alive and palpable forest, I couldn't imagine that it was my imagination come to life, it didn't seem possible. The trees seemed taller than before and I thought I was imagining it until I realised that they were growing even while I watched, maybe because I watched.
"What do we do now?"
Again I didn't speak. I didn't have the answer. I hadn't thought past getting away, getting out, being safe. We hadn't been safe in a long time. For a long moment, we silently stared into the woods as if facing an adversary. A hiss seemed to be rising from the trees, working its way through the branches towards us. It raced and climbed and wound around our bodies, encircling us, caressing us as light as, well, air. The sound changed and resolved into what sounded distinctively like dry, whispered voices.
They were trying to tell us something. But how do you communicated with trees? The sound grew, forceful and impatient. I waited, my breaths coming in steadily. I would not be afraid; I had to be strong, for her. To protect her I had to be better. I had created this place. It was mine, it was me. What were they trying to say? Suddenly she emerged as if from the tree. I was struck, not only by her beauty but by the fact that I knew that I had seen it before, but I couldn't find the memory. A voice was soft in my head and I knew it was her voice, though her lips did not move.
Welcome back, Greywaren