A/N: Yeah, I'm a very stupid person, and I posted this story without getting rid of the heading. So I'm reposting it now. This was an assignment for my theatre class – we were supposed a write a story about anything and perform it or the class. I chose to write an unwritten scene from SA – obviously. Enjoy!
I run, run for my life, my freedom, my happiness, I don't know what else. I just know I have to get away, I am suffocating in lies, hidden truths. I couldn't tell anyone, yet someone found out, and I'm running. Away from the cold, the dark. It knows me too well, too intimately. And I don't know where I'm going, don't care where. I have to get away. I tried to be strong, but it was too much. I can't stand it. If I knew someone else like me, it might help, but there is no one, no one else, and I'm alone.
I tumble over twigs and leaves and dirt, and I fall, skin my hands on a tree trunk. I rub them on my dress to get the dirt off, and it stains the dress, but I don't care. Tears sting and prick at my eyes, but I can't cry, I can't, I have to be strong. I roughly wipe the tears away, and my hand brushes against my braid. My braids, my stupid, evil, ugly braids. Anger courses through me, and controls my fingers and undoes them, rips them out. My hair is long and thick and wavy down my back, and there are stray strands wrapped around my fingers. I feel free, I finally feel free.
Free! Exultation sweeps through me, and I let out a half-hysterical cry of laughter. I stand up, still laughing, and run around, through the trees, still laughing. And then I hear the telltale crinkle of dry leaves and twigs, and a man steps out of the shadows. He looks in curiosity at me, then reaches out his hand. 'Come with me,' he says, and I take his hand and follow him home. It shall be my home now, and I am glad, for I am free.