Creative Writing: Cassie's Return

Cassie climbed the stairs to her room as quickly and quietly as possible. Leaving behind the trailing voices, of the rest of the world behind her.

As the door clicked shut behind her she locked and bolted it, breathing heavily, clutching at the stitch on her side.

She flicked the light switch up and down frantically, but the room remained immersed in darkness. With only a cold, hesitant light, from the street lamps below. Coming in through the cracked window, casting eerie shadows on the walls around her.

With every breath she took, it slowly dawned on her what had just happened. It was a cold feeling that made her shiver as if somebody had poured plates of ice down her neck and drops of freezing ice water were seeping down over her spine.
The clouds which struggled to withstand the burden of the weight which the rain held, soon gave in. The rain poured down over the city with a roar. The sound of emptiness was disrupted by the loud booms of thunder.

The darkness soon began to fall as she sat motionless on the floor, her arms wrapped around her legs. Humming a tune she was sure she heard once. Before the music died. Before everything went wrong. She could hear the beat of the rain against the window. Battering down like a hail of bullets.

She strode over to the window and pulled back the dull, aged grey curtains. She stared through the rain washed window of her small room. She could see the forest from her room. It looked lonely and desolate on a good day, the rain only made it look even more uninviting. But she couldn't stay away any longer. I have to go! She thought. I have to. What other choice do i have? Wait to be found out? Be dragged out of my home and taken to god knows where? I will not let them take me. I will not let them win. Not this
She jumped from her room thudding on to the grass below her. The cold icy rain pierced her pale and wet skin. She ran across the slippery road, her posture weakened by the weight of her soaked clothes.

She knew exactly which path to take. Which way to turn. Right, left, left, right, left. Eight years later and she still remembered everything about this place and the memories it held. The rain had finally started to cease, but large droplets fell from the dark trees towering above her.

It felt wrong being back. As though she was intruding on the most intimate of moments. She remembered how they use to go to the forest to escape, to hide, to see each other. To be happy. The birds would sing as they sat by the willow tree. The birds don’t sing anymore. It all seemed like a dream now.

The old, yellow and brown leaves hustled in the wind, as the sounds of dead, weak trees, creak at every push the wind gave. The end of Autumn draws ever closer and the air is colder than ice, as it climbs through her jacket to the bottom of her