“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars.

You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.”

C.S. Lewis.

Bethany sprinted down the hallway of her childhood home, fear driving her forward. The hallways was covered in deep darkness and seemed to stretch on endlessly into the distance. Every step forward caused the floorboards to creak and groan, and she winced at each sound as she had yesterday when she was sneaking out of the house. The walls were covered with photographs of her grandmother and mother, the same pictures endlessly repeating as she ran forward, as if she was caught in a repeating loop.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The knocking sound came from behind her. A loud thumping that sounded like someone was pounding their fist against a thick wooden door. It chilled her to her core, and she ran faster to escape the source of the sound.

“It comes for you,” the photo of her grandmother shouted, its words cutting through the darkness. “You cannot run. You cannot hide. You must embrace it, or you shall die.”

Bethany ran faster, and the photographs began to throw themselves off the walls at her. One struck her cheek, where her father had struck her, and she felt her cheek start to swell.

Knock. Knock. Knock!

The sound was growing closer. She could feel the ground start to shake beneath her feet, as if something was charging after her.

“You cannot run. You cannot hide. You must embrace it, or you shall die. This knowledge do I impart, for only three days remain until it starts.”

“Shut up!” Bethany shouted, frantically swiping at the photographs now striking her chest and face. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She wanted to cower, wanted to hide, but she willed her legs forward, trying to run faster.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

It was closer than ever, right behind her. She dared not look back. If she slowed it would catch her. If she slowed, he would drag her back.

“Beware, rejoice. It begins anew. The time of tests. A time of woe. A time when you can grow. Embrace the path and you shall find, you may be first amongst your kind.”

The words echoed from every photograph now, filling her ears and rattling her brain. “Just shut up! Please, shut up,” she shouted, growing desperate.

The footsteps crashed behind her, as if it were an elephant trampling through a jungle. Her heart pounded in her chest and sweat poured from her brow. He was right behind her.

“Don’t look back,” came a soft, gentle voice to her right. It startled her and she fell, her hand scraping across the creaky hallway. She turned around quickly in a panic, hands planted on the ground, and gazed down the corridor.

Nothing was there. The footsteps were gone. The photographs were utterly silent.

“I told you not to look back,” a voice whispered in her ear. She spun around and found herself face to face with her father, his features distorted and stretched so that he filled the entire hallway from wall to wall.

“Please, no,” whimpered Bethany.

“Knock knock knock,” said her father, as the darkness closed in around her.

* * *

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Bethany awoke with a start, her forehead beaded with sweat. She was disoriented, her head flicking back and forth as she tried to figure out where she was. Her hand gripped the armrest tightly. It had been a dream. But it had felt so real. Her father…

“Miss, are you alright?” came a voice from outside the window. Bethany turned to look out her driver’s side window, still in a daze. “Can you roll down the window please?”

The woman outside wore a short sleeved blue dress shirt and a bullet proof vest. She had a police badge attached to the left side of the vest and an insignia was sewn on her arm – a circle of golden leaves with a crown at the top, and a shield in the middle. The shield was blue and had a bison and wheat sheaf marking the top and bottom. At the bottom it read “Vigilius Genus”.

Bethany could feel her heart racing. The only police officer she had ever met was her uncle Greg. Her father would argue with him endlessly whenever they were together, and her uncle would always leave angry. And then her father would take out his anger on her.

Bethany reached out cautiously, slowing rolling down the window with the hand crank and squinting in the bright sunlight. It was already mid-afternoon.

The officer bent over and rested her arms on the windowsill. She glanced at Bethany, and spotted Bethany’s luggage opened in the back seat. Then she saw Bethany’s swollen cheek. “Miss, are you okay?” she asked, sounding concerned.

Bethany felt her heart tighten in her chest. Had her father reported her missing? Were the police searching for her? Would they force her to go back? Her mind started to race with possibilities and her hands started to shake.

The officer must have noticed. “Miss, do not be alarmed. I won't harm you. Have you taken any drugs? Do you need me to take you to the hospital? Is there someone safe I can call for you?”

“I’m eighteen!” Bethany shouted, the first thing that came into her head. It was all she could think of – asserting that she was now an adult. She realized this did not answer any of the officer’s questions, so she added, “No drugs…Ma’am.”

The officer gave her a kind but worried smile. “You runnin’ from something, deary?”

Bethany stared at the officer, as if seeing her for the first time. She was middle aged, with a kindly face, red hair, and freckles that stretched from ear to ear like her own. She was muscular and intimidating, yet she leaned forward in such a casual manner that it drew Bethany in and cut through some of her fear.

“I’m eighteen,” Bethany repeated, this time more subdued, “I just got to the city last night, Miss…um…. officer. I must have dozed off.”

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“Officer Shepherd,” she replied, “Delores if you prefer. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“No, Officer Shepherd, not running,” Bethany lied, sounding far from convincing, “Just new to the city. Finding my way. Post-graduation adventure. You know how us crazy kids are.” She felt like she was rambling, and Officer Shepherd did not seem convinced.

Officer Shepherd leaned in slightly and gave a subtle sniff. She seemed satisfied and withdrew. “Miss…”

“Bethany,” Bethany replied, before scolding herself for not giving an alias. What if her father had reported her? Then again, giving a false name to a police officer was probably a bad idea.

“Bethany, do you have a cell phone?” Bethany shook her head. “Ok, just wait here for a moment. I’ll be right back.” Officer Shepherd headed over to her police vehicle, which was parked directly behind Bethany’s Civic.

Bethany’s head started to whirl. Was she calling me in? Was I going to be arrested? What if they call my father? What if they make me go back? What if….?

Officer Shepherd returned in a moment, clutching a map, which she unfurled with a flick of her wrists. “This is a little old-school. Most people have cells phones with maps these days. But sometimes the old ways are best.”

Officer Shepherd handed the map to Bethany and leaned in. It was a map of Regina, the type you would find resting on a display in a tourist stop along the highway. “My brother gave me a box of these maps last year. He works for the city and had found a dusty box full of them stuffed in a storage room in city hall. I carry them around with me just in case. Do you know how to read a real map?”

Bethany nodded. In grade six, she had spent three weeks pouring over maps in the school library, imagining herself being anywhere else.

“Good for you, my dear. Now, we are here,” She circled the spot on the map with her red pen. “Over here is the closest hospital. We have two in the city – Regina General and Pasqua. Up here is the Food Bank, and over here is Social Services, if you need help with money or housing.”

“I don’t know if…” Bethany started.

“There is no shame in asking for help when you need it,” Officer Shepherd said calmingly, then circled a few more locations on the map. “These are some other places to check out. Used clothing and household items. I shop there myself all the time. You can get some great deals for outfitting a new apartment.” She gave Bethany a warm smile. “If you need access to the internet, or need job hunting advice, or just want something to do, there are libraries across town. The biggest one is downtown, but the smaller branches might be more to your liking if you prefer quiet.”

Officer Shepherd glanced back at Bethany’s suitcase. “And if you need place to stay for the night, there is a women-only shelter here.” She circled the map a couple times, as if to drive home the point. “It can be dangerous for a young woman to sleep alone in her car.”

Bethany just stared at the map and mumbled “Thanks.” She didn’t know what else to say. It all felt overwhelming.

Officer Shepherd looked at her, then dug into her pocket and handed Bethany a business card. “My contact information, if you need it.”

Bethany carefully grabbed it, as if she were afraid it would fall apart in her hands. “I’ll be okay. Thank you, Officer Shepherd. Umm…Delores.”

“You are very welcome, Bethany. Stay safe. And don’t be afraid to reach out if you need help.” Delores gave Bethany a final smile, then returned to her vehicle. Bethany listened to the crush of gravel as Delores drove away, clutching Delorus’ business card tightly to her chest. She opened her glove compartment and slid it in carefully, so it would be safe.

* * *

Bethany sat in Wascana Park at a day-use campsite, staring absentmindedly towards the tiny Pelican Island that rested in the middle of Wascana Lake. She was watching the ducks and geese land delicately on the water’s surface, the early evening’s fading light projecting a subtle beauty across the water. She listened to the wind gently blowing through the elm trees, their branches covered in deep green leaves that provided her with shade from the height of summer. She had her shoes off and was wiggling her toes in the think grass, reveling in its softness. She was lost in the moment and wished it could go on forever.

At over nine hundred hectares, Wascana Park was nearly three times the size of Central Park in New York, making it one of the largest urban parks in North America. It was one of the reasons why Bethany had chosen Regina as her new home. She could sit at the edge of a lake and get lost in the wilderness without ever leaving the city.

The crackle of her fire in the metal firebox behind her snapped her back to reality. Her stomach growled, desperate to be filled. Sighing, she stood up and meandered over to her picnic table. It was covered with canned vegetables, rice, noodles, sauces, powdered milk, beans, two apples, and a pack of hotdog buns. The six sausages she had received from the Food Bank were now roasting on top of the firebox, their aroma filling the air and making her mouth water. A can opener, small pot, toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush completed the treasures she had been given.

The Food Bank had been a godsend. She had not wanted to go there. She had wanted to make it on her own. But filling her car with gas had taken all but sixty-five dollars of her remaining money, and her pragmatism bested her pride.

Bethany grabbed one of the buns and leaned over the grill, trying to select just the right one for her first true meal of her new life. She picked the third one in, with cheese oozing out the side and a touch of char along its edges. She reached out to grab it with her fingers.

“Ouch!” she uttered, thrusting the sausage into the bun as the cheese burned her fingers. She held the bun tightly in one hand while she sucked on her fingers of the other, trying to soothe the burn.

She used a stick to shove the remainder of the sausages away from the open flames, then plopped down on the picnic table and took her first bite. The taste flooded her mouth, quelling her hunger and bringing a smile to her lips. She had no ketchup or mustard – those luxuries could come later – but it was the best meal she had ever had. A minute later, she was onto her second sausage, still savoring every bite.

She could have finished the whole pack in one sitting but chose to carefully wrap the remaining sausages in with the buns to save it for breakfast. The food spread out across the picnic table was more than had been in her father’s home, but she knew it would not last long.

Bethany carefully packed her food into her Civic, then grabbed her toiletries and a spare set of clothes and headed to the public washroom located next to her little campsite. The washroom was a welcome surprise when she found this spot. It had a sink, a mirror, running water, and a flush toilet. It smelled faintly of sewage and one of the walls was covered in graffiti, but she did not care. It was a precious find.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her long brown hair, running down to the small of her back, was knotted after two nights without care. Her grandmother, even in the depths of her dementia, had combed it out each night. Her hair was the only part of her she liked. She was skinny – the consequence of growing up in a house with little spare food – and tall, the combination of which made her gangly and awkward. She thought her nose was too big, her eyes an off-putting shade of green, and her chin too angled to be attractive. The freckles that dotted her face felt like pot marks, each one a tiny imperfection.

She ran a finger from her chin to her cheek, wincing as she hit the bruise that had started to show where her father had struck her. She shook away the memory. The bruise would fade, as it always did, but this time another would not replace it. That thought kept her going.

An hour later Bethany felt clean, her clothes washed and strung across a tree next to the fire to dry. Her hair was wrapped in her raggedy towel, and she sat on the picnic table facing the water. She had her diary open in front of her and she tapped her pen on the table, wondering where to start.

“Dear diary, today I… no, that’s too high school. I can do better than that,” she whispered, aggressively crossing out the words. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Where could she possibly start?

She gazed out at the living skies above her, watching as the occasional cloud drifted across the wide blue expanse. A flock of geese flew by, towards the legislative building, visible to the west and nestled in the centre of the busiest part of the park. She heard laughter from a family walking along the lakeside trail that ran near her campsite, a young couple with their rambunctious child running ahead of them, pointing at the flock in the sky. It brought a smile to Bethany’s face.

Bethany decided to keep her diary entry simple.

Today was the first day of my new life. I am finally free.

She started to close her diary, then stopped. On a whim, she grasped the pages that chronicled her life leading up to this moment.

Pages filled with sorrow and worry.

Pain and loss.

Every day, every entry, laced with so much fear.

Then she ripped them out.

And tossed them into the fire.