Warnings: coffins, being trapped, child abuse Themes: Friendship, escape, imprisonment
Memory One You wait till the plantation was quiet before making a run for it. You slip down the fire ladder and hide in the bushes till night shift passes through then into the woods you go.
She had hit your breaking point weeks before but the timing had to be perfect. You couldn't risk being caught. You had planned for this. You grab a hidden bag from under a bush, quickly changing into jeans and a sweater before throwing your nightgown into a tree.
You stuff the bag with cash, some pot she swiped from a drawer and some hockable silverware, your late mother's cross necklace. In the process you are grazed by branches and a few hedges but you ignore the scratches as you slip out of a back gate while lighting up a cigarette and head for the Greyhound station and a new life.
Memory Two You are playing with a young boy in a church, your laughter fills the building as you run around, tackling each other in mock battle as children often do. You lose, but that's fine. Tristan is triumphant.
A man enters, asking about homework. You had done it on the bus and tell him so and the two of you are sent to wash dishes. Even that is fun, flicking soap at each other, though you do work hard and soon the dishes are sparkling.
The evening is spent getting ready for bed, it's a sleepover it seems. The two of you giggling, curling up to sleep.
It's late at night when you are awoken by him, Tristan. He just looks at you with a smile. "Till the end of the world, right?"
You nod. Of course. Till the end of the world.
Memory Three A swamp, murky and green. Rising up from the swamp, drawn by chains that are being drawn in, is a coffin. Wooden, clearly waterproof. Two men in jeans open it up and pull out a young girl. A teenager.
She is silent, but squinting against the light and she puts up no fight as they drop her on her knees before a woman in a large brimmed hat.
"What's your name, girl?"
She looks up, still held by the hands of the men who had grabbed her from the coffin. "Jessie..." Her voice is quiet, woozy.
"Jessie who?"
Her expression hardens, a look of stubbornness coming across her face. "Jessie Custer."
The woman sighs. "Put her back."
She is lifted again and this time she does struggle. "Please! No! Let me go! Let me out!" She shouts, but is too weak to fight off the men as they place her back into the coffin and shut out the light once more.
Jessie | Morgan
Themes: Friendship, escape, imprisonment
Memory One You wait till the plantation was quiet before making a run for it. You slip down the fire ladder and hide in the bushes till night shift passes through then into the woods you go.
She had hit your breaking point weeks before but the timing had to be perfect. You couldn't risk being caught. You had planned for this. You grab a hidden bag from under a bush, quickly changing into jeans and a sweater before throwing your nightgown into a tree.
You stuff the bag with cash, some pot she swiped from a drawer and some hockable silverware, your late mother's cross necklace. In the process you are grazed by branches and a few hedges but you ignore the scratches as you slip out of a back gate while lighting up a cigarette and head for the Greyhound station and a new life.
Memory Two You are playing with a young boy in a church, your laughter fills the building as you run around, tackling each other in mock battle as children often do. You lose, but that's fine. Tristan is triumphant.
A man enters, asking about homework. You had done it on the bus and tell him so and the two of you are sent to wash dishes. Even that is fun, flicking soap at each other, though you do work hard and soon the dishes are sparkling.
The evening is spent getting ready for bed, it's a sleepover it seems. The two of you giggling, curling up to sleep.
It's late at night when you are awoken by him, Tristan. He just looks at you with a smile. "Till the end of the world, right?"
You nod. Of course. Till the end of the world.
Memory Three A swamp, murky and green. Rising up from the swamp, drawn by chains that are being drawn in, is a coffin. Wooden, clearly waterproof. Two men in jeans open it up and pull out a young girl. A teenager.
She is silent, but squinting against the light and she puts up no fight as they drop her on her knees before a woman in a large brimmed hat.
"What's your name, girl?"
She looks up, still held by the hands of the men who had grabbed her from the coffin. "Jessie..." Her voice is quiet, woozy.
"Jessie who?"
Her expression hardens, a look of stubbornness coming across her face. "Jessie Custer."
The woman sighs. "Put her back."
She is lifted again and this time she does struggle. "Please! No! Let me go! Let me out!" She shouts, but is too weak to fight off the men as they place her back into the coffin and shut out the light once more.