Page 36 of Teddy Bear

The cold fingers of the wind crept through the ripped, frayed legs of my jeans, all the way down to my thighs, which were still warm and soft, rubbing against each other as I walked.

I hurried along the path through the forest as the branches crunched under my feet.

The peace of the forest and the fatigue that was getting to me more and more strongly made me feel rather sleepy despite the cold.

The journey I have made today has been enormous, almost unbelievable, and it is quite certain that I would not have been able to do it if I had not been under the powerful, electric effect of shock and stress.

I was enjoying the fact that I forgot my mobile phone in the apartment and that my mother can't call me now, apparently worried about where I am and how I am.

I enjoyed the fact that this was the end, once and for all, of cutting the black, rotten, shriveled and festering umbilical cord with the patients who were called my parents and the beginning of a completely new life, fresh and clean, bathed only in the freshness and tranquility of the blue-green lake water.

I was as firm and determined as I had ever been in my life - I never want to see them again.

All the pain that has been caused to me will soon be forgotten in his safe, reliable, and caring arms - I will confess to Danny that I love him, and we will start a new life together.

I will tell him that I can no longer bear the suffering that my so-called family is causing me.

I will tell him everything that happened today, even the part when I peed myself, I will be vulnerable and whole in front of him, because that's exactly how I want him to see me - whole, weak, scared and helpless, but strong only for him and in his arms, wanting only his kisses and his words that bring me peace and strength, passion and faith so that I can continue on and be myself and free.

I will fall to my knees at his feet, destroyed and broken, begging him desperately to put me back together - I will be his rag doll, and he the doctor who will mend all my torn places.

Finally, I came to a well-known wooden house. The smell of water and pine needles filled my nostrils. I took a deep breath, calming my pounding heart.

There's no reason to be afraid.

I repeated to myself, watching the wooden door that now stood as the only remaining barrier between our trembling bodies and souls that belonged to each other.

There's no reason to be afraid; Danny loves you. Danny will help you; he will make you safe.

I tried to smile as I knocked on the wooden door with my bloody fist, then I thought that maybe it was stupid, and that the smile didn't go quite well with messy hair and smeared mascara, a tortured face, and a trembling body.

Maybe Danny isn't here, maybe he won't open the door, maybe it's stupid that I came at all.

I fought my wound-up mind, ticking and ticking through the thousands of anxious thoughts inside my head as the agonizing space of time and silence on the other side of the door lasted almost endlessly, broken only by my monotonous knocks.

My eyes lit up when the doorknob moved.

I smiled again, wide, happy, nothing matters, it's Danny, and I love him, and I don't care about the father who tried to strangle my mother, or my animal fear, or the pool of urine under my feet; I only care about him, and our love that has never been closer.

And then she.

The smile fell from my face like a sad hanger.

I kept staring, wondering if this was reality; for a moment I felt an incredible and unbearable need to rub my eyes with my fingers to make sure that maybe it was just a bad dream.

Maybe this is all just a bad dream, a long, agonizing nightmare that keeps spinning grotesque scenes inside my head.

Maybe I'm in a deep coma from which I can't wake up, and my brain is spinning the sickest possible images, struggling to return to the real world.

But maybe soon I'll wake up inside our beautiful villa, the day will be warm and calm, the smell of pancakes or muffins will waft from the kitchen, and I'll be rushing to get ready for that big competition I was supposed to take my dance group to.

This can't be real.

Instead of Danny, she is standing at the door of the lake house.

A woman in her early thirties, with long, golden blonde hair that reaches down to her round butt, brown eyes framed by thick lashes and full lips; in fact, everything about her is somehow plump, and somehow warm, soft and safe - in complete contrast and opposition to the pallor and boniness of my slender body and sunken skin.

She is dressed in a comfortable, cotton gray tracksuit and, just like me, she is watching me, confused, just blinking her sweet eyes.