Ethan Eternal

Sub-Chapter A

“The Girl Cindy”

Cindy was afraid.

She was careful not to wake the other children.

They wouldn’t understand. They never did.

Nothing Cindy ever did made sense to anyone.

She was weird like that.

Even if she had pictures or some kind of tape recording, it wouldn’t matter. They would roll their eyes and call her a liar. That was how things worked in this house. After all, she wasn’t one of them. She was adopted.

It was around midnight on a Thursday in November when Cindy finally had enough. Eventually that man was going to kill her. She knew this… and she knew that he knew as well. It was only a matter of time. Sure… no one at home would ever believe her… but if Cindy lived to be old enough… someone was bound to listen.

She would be 12 years old in 3 weeks… that is… if she made it that long.

Well… she was going to do something about all of that.

Her bag was small. The other kids never let her keep much of anything. She was fine with that. About the only thing she really cared about was her 3 outfits and her teddy bear that her real dad gave her when she was a little baby… at least that’s what her mom told her the day she killed herself. There wasn’t much room for doubt though. There wasn’t much room for anything. She didn’t have much as it was. Doubt was too expensive.

She quickly tied her hair back and then draped her rather small bag over one shoulder. She shut the bedroom door loosely and stepped into the hall. It was dark and silent but she knew it well and made her way to the front door easily. As she was about to turn the dead bolt, she thought she heard wood creaking somewhere behind her. She paused. The still room did not respond. She waited almost 5 minutes without a single audible breath. Nothing.

Calm enough to continue, Cindy turned the bolt. With one movement, she twisted the knob and stepped through the threshold into a chilled autumn night. She pulled the door shut and then briskly stepped away from the place she once hoped would be a home… but in fact… had been her prison. She didn’t have a plan really. She just knew that she had to go and she had to go now. She lifted the latch on the gate at the street and let it close behind her. Cindy never looked back.

Had she glanced back to the house… what might she have seen?

Had she taken a split second to give pause at the past… what might have changed in her future? Perhaps the sight of the old white house would have stirred some previously unknown sentiment of affection. Perhaps fear would have prevented her from embarking on her perilous journey.

Or…

Perhaps Cindy would have seen the man she once called “Dad” standing at the upstairs window. Perhaps she might have met those fierce eyes for long enough to realize the extent of the danger she was now in. Would that have changed the course of her life? Would it have prevented the madness that followed?

Perhaps…

(To be continued…)