A November flush coated her fair skin as she beat against the whispering wind. Her hair, longer than it had ever been in her life, was tugged back into a sweeping ponytail. It swung between her shoulder blades as she pressed on, on foot in front of the either. Pushing, pushing, not daring to stop the movement and risk falling apart.
It had all been a balancing act, the past few months. School responsibilities balanced on one shoulder, the other weighed down by the knowledge of her family situation. Tense breathing filled her lungs as she denied the autumn chill wanting her to rest.
She’d been like that since she returned to school. Running. Both physically and mentally. Escaping, dodging the loose boards in her floors. One wrong move and everything would go tumbling. Sage wasn’t quite sure how many miles she’d run since she returned to school. Was it ten? Was it twenty? Was it, somehow, even more than that?
She slowed her pace, coming to a stop. Ragged, hoarse breathing filled the air around her. Was it the best idea to be sprinting in the freezing weather? Probably not. Sage eased her weight off her legs, coming to sit on the ground. Another breath escaped her.
The sun would be setting soon, and with it her last day being thirteen. But it wasn’t panic she felt, nor excitement. This was different. Like… A ticking clock inside her, reminding her. Mocking her with the knowledge that the only birthday wishes she’d be getting from her dad were to make her want to go back to him. Ridiculous.
Sage stretched her legs out in front of her, sighing. Watching clouds coat the sky, she wondered what her dad was looking at in London. Surely it was the same sky. And her sister, Kora, hidden in the depths of the castle, did she know Sage was out there running for her life?
To put it simply, Sage felt awful. Haunted by memories of her journey in London that summer, she couldn’t help but remember what her dad had told her before she boarded the train. That the divorce was happening. That in a few months time, her family would be cracked again like a picture torn down the middle.
The wind howled in her ear, whirling and spinning in a way that reminded her of her own mind. The echoing phrases swirled in her mind, calling back to her time in London. Sage squeezed her eyes shut, a stray tear dropping down her cheek. She exhaled again, shakily, forcing herself to remain calm.
“I’ll be okay.”
No, I won’t.
Her expression tensed, another tear crossing her face. She’d kept recent updates on Cassie and Christopher’s impending divorce to herself like it would somehow numb the pain. The battle for custody over her and Kora would be a full out war, Sage knew. She tried to forget that element of the situation. With the i’s and t’s waiting to be crossed, she could only hope for the best.
Within a few months time, whose daughter would she be? Could she be the child of someone who never saw what she became? What about someone who had no blood connection to her, or the one with no meaningful contribution to her? Did that make her another lost petal in the world, begging for somewhere to grow her roots?
A breeze blew through the blades of grass, sending leaves swirling through the chilled air. She reached up to her hair, dragging the clip she’d been wearing out, weighing it in her hand. Sage sighed, recalling the small shop she’d bought it at with her dad right next to her.
“Think of it like an early birthday gift,” he’d said, “since I won’t be seeing you on your actual birthday.”
Sage squeezed the clip into her palm, her eyes shutting in a desperate effort to keep further tears off her face. No such luck. Like little maps of rivers, tears soaked her face in dreary patterns. The clip tumbled from her hand, hitting the ground without a sound. Her now empty hands lifted to cover her face as Sage sobbed.
Without hesitation after her sobs had stabilized, she leaned her head back and screamed, “I hate you!” Another sob, followed by another shout of hatred. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”
Deep down, she knew part of her would always hold a grudge towards her father. Left in exile, crawling her way out of the eye of the storm, daylight was starting to become visible. Her tears had stopped by then, though the debris remained. Her gaze drifted to the dropped hair clip, studying its smooth details and gentle colors.
One foot in front of the other, she stood. Her left foot connected with the souvenir, sending it flying a few feet away. An easy smile spread across her face as she watched it leave her life. “Goodbye,” she whispered. “May we never meet again.”
