PROLOGUE
A common quote I've heard being passed around in my lifetime is 'Uncertainty and mystery are energies of life. Don't let them scare you unduly, for they keep boredom at bay and spark creativity.' This was once said by a famous painter called R.I Fitzhenry... But I am not the sort of person to follow this, no matter how many of my friends used to repeat this quote to me. Uncertainty and mystery are the two things I tend to hate most, nothing could change that; or so I thought. "Dear Sage, you really should not let uncertainty block your perspective" My Aunt Amelia used to tell me this so many times, I am still yet to heed her advice. I have been told numerous times about how kind, caring and truly delicate I am, delicate as the plant I was named after; Sage. A year ago I would have never thought my whole life could be turned upside down by one person, that my delicate heart could be crushed so unruly. No one would have ever thought something like this could happen to someone like me.
They say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but this pain in my chest is too much for me. I feel as though there is a gigantic hole in my heart in the place where I had once held my mother close. Why had I allowed my father to drive her to work this morning? I had known he was still intoxicated from last night's party, an assassination that had in fact been successful. I can't quite name a time when I was truly proud of my Father, perhaps it was that one day when he had shown up at school for parent's week. Mother hadn't been able to come, I was going to be lonely for the entire day of school; surely Father would be too busy for me... I had clearly been wrong, for he had shown up with a huge smile on his face and he had scooped me up off my chair as I was sitting at my desk alone. I'm certain that was the only time he had ever smiled at me in my life. Had it not been for that one day, I may have never believed it if someone had a told me that my Father actually did have a heart hidden somewhere underneath. I can never explain, even to myself, why I had let him take her away from me. I can feel guilt coming off in waves as my vision blurs and all I can see is a worried face staring directly into my eyes. Suddenly everything is whirling out of control and I can't think properly, grief tears at my heart and I feel a sticky wetness sliding down my cheek.
"Are you okay?" Everything is still so confusing, I don't know who said that and I can't remember where I am anymore. I close my eyes shut tight and put my head close to my knees, hoping, praying that this was just a very bad dream and that I would wake up any minute now. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I immediately sit up straight and grab the hand without thinking.
"Oh Mother, I thought you were gone!" the hand feels strangely cold and wrinkly under my own, this couldn't be her hand... It doesn't feel right. My eyes open to see a small wrinkly hand on my shoulder and I jump in shock, trying to push the hand off my shoulder. This is all wrong, this can't be happening! But its not, and it is.
"She... She is gone isn't she?" I ask the receptionist, every word coming out in a struggle. Memory is finally coming back to me, I was at school when a student had come into the classroom to tell me there was some family issues going on and I had to go to the school office as soon as possible. When I had gotten there, I had been told the worst thing any child could hear; my Mother was dead.
"I'm very sorry dear... Would you like me to call a family member to take you home?" the office lady sounds very concerned, but I shake my head slowly knowing I can walk home by myself. Besides, I have no other family members I chuckle hysterically to myself, the lady looked surprise, not understanding why I found this so funny.
"Are you su-"
I cut her off by standing up and turning my back away from her, and then realizing I may have seemed rude, I dip my head politely to her. Then I push my way out the door and find myself running home, school bag hitting my lower back with every step I take. I feel sick to my stomach and know I'm obviously not thinking straight anymore, but I don't care. As I run home I can't stop thinking horrible thoughts, because I know there's nothing at home waiting for me. Every day I used to come home, knowing Mother would be there smiling at me, waiting patiently for me to talk to her about how my day was. Not anymore. Images and memories flash through my mind, but I keep running although I can scarcely see where I am heading through my warm and sticky tears. Accidently, I misjudge the distance over a small crack in the pavement and I stumble onto the ground. A burning sensation runs through my left leg and I look down at it with sore eyes, it is scraped and bleeding but I don't care. I try to stand, but I am unable to move. It feels like my legs are frozen in place. For a while I sit curled up on the pavement with my arms wrapped around my leg, lost in thought. What is waiting for me back home? A crazy Father who killed Mother? An empty place on the bed where Mother once slept? A chance to successfully starve to death because Father never cooks? The answer to all my questions is simple; there is nothing back home but hell. As if on cue, the moment I thought that, my legs unfroze and I climbed more confidently to my feet now and continued running home.
The gate to the front yard of the house swings open as I push on it gently, and then proceed to wander over to the front door of the house. On my way in I catch a slight glimpse of a large oak tree in the front yard; a makeshift tire swing was tied to one of its branches. Mother and I had planted that tree together, we had watched it grow and once it was big enough we had made that swing to play in. I shut my eyes, reveling in the memory of us playing on the swing; I used to pretend that I could fly while Mother had tried to pull me down from the sky. My eyes open as the door does, and I take in the scene; it seems surreal. It's as though I am seeing this house in a whole new light, and I am easily tossing seventeen years' worth of memories in the trash. Carelessly I go into my bedroom, knowing Father isn't home and probably won't be until later. Gently, I put my school bag down on the bed; it is a fluffy purple backpack with soft and fluffy pom poms coming off the zipper. Then I remove all my school books and place them on my simple pink and white wooden desk, knowing I don't need them where I'm going. My bag is soon filled with a few sheets off my bed, my Swiss army knife, my sketchbook and couple of pencils, only important objects. I grab the strap of my bag and carefully walk downstairs and into the kitchen, stuffing it with a bunch of foods such as trail mix, fruit, some health bars and a bag of chips to satisfy my sweet tooth from the pantry and a 2 liter bottle of water, from the refrigerator. Time to go I guess, I think as I hoist my bag up onto my shoulders.
"Goodbye Mother…" I whisper into the air on my way out the door. A shine in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I twirl around to see a mirror right beside the door. Strange, I don't even remember that being there I think inwardly as I stare at this strange person in the mirror. I can barely believe that it's me in the reflection. This girl with the dark brown curled hair which looked wild and untamed in comparison to how I usually keep it, light blue green eyes which looked slightly puffy and swollen from crying earlier on and my usually cream coloured face looked red and splotchy. I hardly recognize myself, but I know that somewhere underneath this sad face that it really is me. Then I stop half way through the door, and almost slap myself for being so stupid; money! There is no way I am ever going to get to Whitehurst without that. Feeling slightly guilty, I rush back inside and tear through my Father's drawers upstairs in his bedroom until I find his stash. He usually keeps it in this drawer, locked up in a small safe; which he once told me the code to, in case of emergencies; and this is an emergency.
SLAM
I hear the sound of a car door closing outside and start to panic, I know its Father. Quickly closing the drawer and stuffing the money into my bag, I race to the back door as fast as I can without looking back to see if he had seen me. I can only hope he was still in the front yard, or scrambling with his keys at the front door. I sneak outside and quietly close the glass backdoor behind me and make a run for it to the back fence, there's a road and footpath right on the other side of it I know. I'm about to climb over the fence when I hear the front door slam and hear a cat screech beside me due to the loud noise. The sound of the cat makes my eyes tear up. I had almost forgotten Holly, my Mother's cat that she had gotten 4 years ago; she was a black cat with a white belly and muzzle. Tentatively I scoop her up from the ground beside me where she had been watching me and carry her over the fence in one singular motion. Now I crouch with relief beside the fence; a smile of freedom spreads across my face as I hug Holly close to my chest and scan the street; I am free and I am going to Whitehurst tonight. Mother had told me about her old school in Whitehurst… The only part that troubles me is that she said she met Father there. I cast a quick glance at the sky and realize it must be about 3pm already, I had to get moving or I'd miss the train.
A storm of anxiety flutters in my chest but I try my best to ignore it. I am Sage, and I will make sure to keep everyone safe this time round. This is my beginning, this is my story and this is my freedom. I can only hope it lasts.