She Leaves Running

"Maryland, Maryland, where are you going?" rings through her mind like a loud sheriff's voice.
There's a nobody out there who knows what she's done. There's a nobody out there who knows what's to come. But out there, there's a somebody who waits for Maryland, who she's going to find.

Maryland pats down the frilly dress, sending a dust cloud blooming around her hips. The sun is bright today, but the heat doesn't seep through Maryland's heavy dress. She's closer to the West Virginia now, but she doesn't know which town she's in.

A smiling man hops down with ease from the train, a dark brown leather suitcase in hand. He lays it down gently next to Maryland with the same grace as his step off the train.

"Oh thank you!" Maryland smiles cheaply. She uses men as they come to her.
The man drops another bag down.
"No problem, missus!" the man says while tipping his hat.

"Oh I hope you don't mind that I can't pay you! I haven't more than a dime!" Maryland lies as she pecks the man on the cheek.

"It's not a problem ma'am!" he says.

"Awh, thanks you so much! Goodbye!"

"Well I be seeing you around!"

Maryland doesn't return his words. She just picks up her things and carries on over the dirt and sand ground.

The front of the train whistles and Maryland heads through the station and into the booming town, where she sees the first grasses in the area.

The seventeen-year-old girl hums along smiling, far away from her California home. And her mother, father, and two younger brothers.
She walks with a nowhere-to-be pace alongside the road carved into the short grass.

She just wants peace in her life and to feel loved. By anyone. Even a cat or a dog. She would even take a rat.
Somewhere out there, there's a somebody who has a shoulder for her heavy head to cry on.

After ten minutes, the sun gets the girl, but luckily, to her advantage, a car slows beside her, shining through the dust storm it started blowing up.
"How about I get you into town?" says a gruff, young voice.

Maryland looks up the young man, seeing at first another person trying to help. Instantly she recognizes the smart face with the minor stubble and eyes that peek from behind shaggy brick-brown hair.

The young woman widens her eyes and gasps at the sight of Alexandre, the tall friend from her childhood. She runs on instinct.

The steps are hard with the red dress faded to a dirty pink weighing her down. She can hear her name being called from behind and doesn't even try to respond.

Just run. All she needs to do is run.

Shuffling footsteps put tremors in the ground closer to Maryland and she coughs with effort from holding up the hem of her dress.

She takes a look back. Alexandre is still following close.
To prevent the boy from coming any closer, Maryland rips off the outer part of her dress, the rosy, dirt caked, expensive and worn out part. It gets even easier to sprint away when the young girl intentionally snags off the bottom edge containing the ruffles.
She finishes ripping it all off as she sprints down the road.

"Maryland!" she hears even nearer.

Arms grasp her waist and throw her down on the ground rolling with her captor. It was not graceful like a woman's every move should be.

The moment the girl takes a lie-saving breath, her mouth and lungs fill with carcinogenic dirt and road dust.

Alexandre is still gripping her tightly.

"LET ME GO!" she screams and squirms and struggles to break free of his iron grip, feeling like Death is about to take her and her burning throat.

"NO! Just stop already!" yells Alexandre.

Maryland hits and scratches the boy with all of her might, but his muscles barely even twitch.

Out of nowhere, Alexandre forces Maryland to switch places with his lean body. She's pulling and tearing and punching and kicking with all her energy.

Again, Alexandre makes the run away do what he wants. She's sitting up now, embraced too tightly in Alexandre's arms. She feels the warm drops of his blood fall on her face and run down her wrists and she keeps trying to claw her way away piece by piece from him.

"I don't care!" he yells to the dusty air. "I don't care about what you've done! I don't care that you hated your little brother and killed him! I don't care!
You don't have blood on your hands! Your parents couldn't afford to feed a fourth child anyway!"

Maryland digs her nails into the back of his neck, more trembling than attacking now.

"I don't care about what you did — Maryland — I followed you all the way here!"

She shakes violently, her hands drying a little stiff.

"Maryland! Why did you leave?! What was going on through your head! No one's going to care!
"Maryland! Why can't you see that I love you?!"

Tears run down Alexandre's face, cleaning the ground off of it.

The sight of her friend Alexandre broken. Alexandre crying. Alexandre bloody.

Maryland gasped loudly, her burning throat closing up and in need of air. Her face comes off pained to the extreme.

"Maryland, I love you!" Alexandre repeats weaker, now not even looking at her.
His hair doesn't shine in the light anymore.

Too salty tears finally flow down Maryland's cheeks. She never thought of Alexandre.

He grasps her to his chest with a suddenness that makes her cry harder.

After a while, he helps her up and they walk in silence to Alexandre's car.
Maryland feels sweaty and sticky and unpleasant. What had she done?

He hands her goggles so she can see when they're ready to leave for home. In California.

Somewhere, somebody waited for her. But then stopped and found her himself.

And through the dirt particles hitting the goggles, Maryland watches as the grass seems a little bit greener on the sides of the road.