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The droplets of rain are making their way down from the sky as I’m waiting for her at our spot on the grass in front of the forest. The sky is gray and cloudy. Many people would say it’s dull and boring, melancholy even, but I find it magnificent. I see some sunlight making it’s way trough the clouds and some of the rays that make it trough hit her face. She is speed walking towards me with a endearing smile on her face. She looks confident yet reluctant when she grabs my hand and pulls me into the forest, our sacred place. I hold her hand even tighter and start running. She has no choice but to follow my lead and soon she’s the one pulling us forward. I look at her delightful face and I can’t spot a single worry in the way she carries herself. But that what this place is for us anyway, a sanctuary away from all the trouble, a place away from all the judging stares. Even if only for a couple hours I can forget about all of my worries and give all of my focus to her.
Soon we are lying on the ground catching our breaths. We are both sweaty from all the running, but I can’t stop when I move closer and close all the distance between us. Her lips are soft and addicting, and I don’t ever want to go to rehab.
Eventually, when we separate our lips, we still stay close. Our foreheads are pressed against each other and I wish I could remember every single detail of tonight. How her breath feels on my skin, how delicate her body feels in my arms. Sometimes I think. What would other people think if they knew? Would they hate on us? Would they find it fascinating? Some would probably label us as star-crossed lovers, but the only she is the only star I see here. I finish my thought on that note.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers, “Everything is going to be alright.”
“I know,” I answer, “I’ll make it right.”
She giggles and I can’s help but find her giggle enchanting.
“I’m sure you will. When we run away next week”
“What,” I say shocked, “What are you talking about?”
“I have the money. Now we just run, we run until our legs give out. And where ever that is, we build ourselves a new home,” she says. And then she adds in a whisper, “Like my mom wanted us to”
I hug her even closer if that’s possible. Her mom was K-19, one of the 20 great Katherines. They control our government. The name Katharine is passed down to the eldest daughter of the Katharines. They replace their mothers as soon as they get married. I spent most of my childhood as a slave getting traded from one royal family to another. That’s how I met most of the Katherines at least once. My lifestyle of constantly changing homes ended when I moved into the K-19 household. K-19 was always nice to me and I saw her as my mother. Trough the years I stayed with K-19’s family, I grew closer with K-19’s daughter and started what became the happiest part of my life. But that didn’t last very long as K-19 disappeared without a trace last year. She was probably assassinated by someone who doesn’t like she didn’t name her daughter Katherine. I shake off those sad thoughts when I notice how it’s getting dark.
“You’ll have to go soon, right?” I ask.
“Probably. Same time next week works for you? We can run then.”
“Sure,” I say while standing up, “Thank you. For everything”
“Thank me when once we actually escape” she retorts and we laugh.
On our way back we talk and soon our topic becomes my childhood. I tell her about the insecurities I had, some of which I still carry with me.
“Sometimes I wonder why I switched homes so much. Do I have that many bad traits? Is there something in the way I act? Think? Do you ever wonder whether people would like you more or less if they would see inside you? I mean, I’ve always felt like the Katherines dump me right when they start to see what I look like from the inside - well, except K-19. But I always wonder about that. If people could see me the way I see myself - if they could live in my memories - would anyone, anyone love me?” I stop myself before I start rambling even more and she looks deep in thought. Eventually she answers, “I don’t think there is a thing such as ‘bad trait’ in this world. What trait we consider ‘good’ or ‘bad’ is just based on our opinion. And if we think we have a ‘bad’ trait we can change it with hard work. But we shouldn’t change ourselves for others, for their norms, hence if we do that we might stop loving ourselves.”
A second or to later she adds, “I would love you”
“I know,” I whisper as we slow down and stop walking. I pull her in for a quick kiss that’s somewhere between a peck and a real kiss.
“I love you, Amy”
“I love you too, you know?”
“I know”