Heaven is waiting

Age: Sixteen years, two months

Fay stirs on her makeshift bed of an old dark green canvas tarp. She may have escaped her torturous life all of two months ago, but she still hasn't been able to escape the monsters that live in her mind. She jolts awake, short of breath and covered in a cold sweat. Fay shakes her head harshly, trying to forget the darkness that lives inside. After several long deep breaths Fay flicks back the tarp and gets to her feet.

She wears blue jeans, a dark green long-sleeve shirt, an unzipped black hoodie, and red socks. Fay runs her hands over her face then through her tangled hair, pulling a black band from her wrist she does her hair up into a messy bun. Besides the makeshift bed the small room is empty, the only light coming from the cracks in the white louvered doors.

Fay pushes on the door, and slides them open. Black spots form in her vision as her eyes adjust to the light that floods through empty window frames on the other side of the large bare bedroom. A shiver runs through her, and goosebumps form on her skin as a brisk breeze flows through the large home.

Fay pulls the sides of her jumper together and zips it up as high as it goes. She places her hands in her pockets to keep them warm as she walks out of the room to the hallway and down stairs.

Fay's POV

I've been off the grid for a month now, I still can't believe that I really got away. Every day that I wake up I'm scared I'll be back in my old bed and all this has just been a dream. But that hasn't happened yet… still living the dream.

I've been working hard though. In the first days I set to work making a blank slate of the old house. This was made easy with the few supplies I found left in the cellar that I hadn't found on the first trip here; it had an outside entrance of two old wooden doors that were almost invisible under the masses of vines that had grown over and around them. I had found a few hand held tools in an old wooden crate, a couple of old pieces of furniture, and an old broom that reminded me of Jake joking about a witch living here.

So all the broken glass has been pulled from the windows and doors, and swept from the house and porch. I got cut a few times in the process of picking up glass, but it's all out of the way now, buried off near the tree line so I don't have to look at the stuff again. The vines and peeling wallpaper were harder to get rid of, having to pull and scrape them from walls all over the house. All of that has been dragged to what I'm labelling the back of the yard. Given there were no fences or very visible roads it had been hard to say what was the back and what was the front of the house. But I have found what looks to have been the road, it was badly overgrown though, not used in decades, with small trees starting to grow back along it. That will have to be one of my next jobs before they get too big to be pulled out by hand.

Yesterday I finished one of the biggest tasks of pulling all the decking boards, with only a hammer head I found in the cellar, and also pulling down the porch railings as I went. The pillars still looked sound, but the railing was cracking and starting to fall apart as were the stairs, so they went to the pile of firewood. I don't know how I'm going to put this house back together yet, but I have plenty of time to work it out.

I get my water from a clear freshwater stream just beyond the tree line, and I have been mostly living on berries and mushrooms. Not the best or safest food source give all the poisonous varieties, but using the tricks that I had learnt in Quileute tribe school – the place young children went over summer break to learn some of what their ancestors did to survive and what to do if they ever get lost in the woods and all kinds of survival things that have started to show their use.

Age: Sixteen years, two and a half months

(Back to third person)

Fay had set aside a whole day to walk down the old road - why clean it if it goes nowhere? she thought. So now she trudges down the overgrown road as a light mist falls from the clouds above. Her old black boots squish into the soft dirt and dead leaves as she swerves around trees that are almost the same height as her. It doesn't take her as long as she thought it would to see an end to the road in front of her, maybe only twenty minutes, if that. She recognizes the road the driveway starts at immediately, being a road she has been on many times in her life. It is the road between La Push and Forks, only around a five-minute drive to her left to reach her childhood town and ten to the right to reach the neighbouring town.

She stands back in the shadow of the trees for a long moment, preparing herself for the boring walk back. Fay thinks it's nice to see a sign of salvation, even if it is just a road. Her body stiffens slightly as she hears a vehicle coming down the road. She knows no one would notice her amongst the blackness of the shadows on this miserable day, but she stays perfectly still as a faded red-orange truck loudly rattles by on its way to La Push.

Fay turns to go back to her home, but she doesn't want to go back quite yet. So she hums while thinking of somewhere she could go. Definitely not La Push, that was too close to home. Her only other option was Forks, but where could she really go without standing out. Of course not many people there had known her personally but with such small towns so close to one another a missing person would have been the main topic in them both. That is if she has been reported missing. If Sam never came back, would anyone even report her missing? Her father wouldn't have cared, and people could have just assumed she dropped out of school, but still she wants to be careful.

She starts to walk towards Forks, staying in the shadows as she thinks over what she could do there. Maybe go by the donation bin, try and get another changes of clothes. She only has the clothes on her back and her old school gym sweatpants and shirt – which she was lucky enough to have had in her bag the day she left. Only being able to wash her clothes on the odd not cloudy day was getting old and another set would really help out in winter.

The walk to Forks is uneventful for Fay. She halts at the edge of the trees, looking around. The main road through town, lined with all the town's stores looks quiet, only a handful of people in sight, going about their day happily. Where she wants to go is just over the road, behind the town's small church. Most of the people are at the far end of the road, the ones closer look too consumed with eating their food outside the café or loading groceries into cars. So as not to draw too much attention to herself she checks there are no cars coming then just walks across the road. Her boots crunch on the gravel then squash on the damp grass on the other side. That was the easy part, she thought to herself, as she stops in front of the blue donation bin.

Fay feels no guilt taking things that are meant for the needy. She had had to do it all her life to get new clothes. She opens the small deposit door that is halfway up the steel box. She drops her old school back pack in front of the bin. She doesn't want to put it in the box and not be able to get it back so she leaves it outside. She has never done this alone before, she's always had her brother to help lift her in so she could unlock it from the inside; so they could have new clothes without stains and holes that fit their growing forms. Fay puts her hands into the darkness of the box and firmly presses her forearms against the cold metal on either side of the opening. She bounces on the tips of her boots, slightly bouncing up and down before fully pushing off the ground, and trying with all her might to pull herself into the donation box.

This would be one of the few times she is glad of how skinny she is. Her muscles were stronger though, so she pulled herself in without too much kicking and squirming. As she falls head over heel into the box she prepares herself for a hard thud when hitting the bottom, but is gladly met with the softness of many layers of material of various thicknesses and textures. Fay smiles a little in the darkness. She feels around on the door for a few moments before finding the metal lever. She pulls it up before slowly creaking the door open, black spots appearing in her eyes as the light hits her.

She hears an engine getting closer so she pulls the door closed again and waits until she can't hear it before opening the door again and quickly getting out and grabbing her bag. She kneels back in front of the bin's contents. She digs around a little before stuffing as much as she can into her bag, a few blankets, a couple of shirts that may be a bit big but will do the job, two pairs of pants that should fit, a dark windbreaker and some woollen socks that will be perfect for when the cold sets in, and a pair of newish looking sneakers that look her size. When no more fits in the bag she zips it up and shut the door. Fay shoulders the stuffed bag before standing and after checking the road, walks back to the trees.

Fay checks over her shoulder one last time, seeing no one has noticed her, before starting her trip home. She wears a cheerful smile on her lips and hums happily on the way, and even when the heavens open, soaking her and the clothes she wears, it doesn't dampen her spirit. This is a nice day. She had a small plan now on how she could fix her home, but that would have to wait for another day.

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