For being no man’s land, neither Faith nor Autumn had felt pain like the magnitude of the courtroom’s fiasco. Either this wasn’t any kind of shameful sentence at all, or the instinct to survive had taken precedence over sensations like pain and suffering. It’s true, that there had not been equal parts of running away and actually dealing with the half real, half virtual reality of heartstring aftermath.
“How you doin, Girl.” She’d asked, during their rest at enough distance to place the kingdom on a sun-setting horizon line.
I didn’t know. There was no whirl of police lights at every revolting domestic run-in; there were no fragile, mislead siblings chiming in with their two cents on who I must be and what I deserved. I don’t see any custody battles – hell, I haven’t run into any children, yet. Everyone must be thinking for themselves in these parts, or agreeing to something on the whole. Because here we are, getting lost in a world full of every personal, social and political issue punishable by death back on royal grounds, and all I can think is how phenomenally quiet it is, out here.
“You can sleep in the ocean with your beautiful secret for as long as it is darker, the deeper it gets.” Two-thousand and one, to quote a line from those late nights sitting up, typing cryptic clues to the disaster beneath my skin for any person to find. By that time, I’d started to open my mouth and swallow the whole thing up; I had learned to stay alive with it in my heart and my lungs.