The Man In The Red Sweater

I awaken, the bright sun rays pierce my eyes, I squint and hastily protect my clouded vision with my hand. I can feel the warm earth beneath my body, the soft long grass soaks me in. I run my hand through my long raven hair, unravelling leaves, dirt, grass, and a few ants scramble on my fingers. The air is thick, hot, and hazy. I smell the summer breeze, combined with the scent of smoke, possibly derived from a nearby forest fire, or something else. Smokey, like my memories, why am I here? I don’t know. I battle with gravity, as I struggle to pull myself from the ground, I manage to balance on my weak legs. My vision becomes more clear and I am able to scope out my surroundings. I see oceans of grass hills, for miles, and a little off in the distance a cluster of trees, smoke emerging from them. The inside of my head wildly churns, as I attempt to search my memory in hopes of understanding my placement in these desolate fields. I found nothing. The dirt beneath the grass gently absorbs my bare feet, each step I take. My feet aren't the only things that are bare, my legs remain exposed. I am wearing a mini sundress, white, with tassels along the edges. Should I call out for someone? No. I may be in danger, it would be foolish to reveal myself. Do I walk towards the forest? Do I walk the other way? The other way, I don't know why heading straight for the smoke was even an option. Trudging through the long grass, I begin to search my memories again, still, no thought to be found on how or why I ended up here. Do I have friends? Do I have parents who are missing me? I look down at my body, my breasts are a decent size, maybe I'm too old to have parents missing me.

After what seemed to be hours of trekking through the fields, I can see a yellow patch off in the distance, as well as a small house planted within. Dandelions? Sun flowers? Canola? I steadily fasten my pace. As I approach, I snatch a closer look at the yellow plants surrounding the small shack-like house. Marigolds. Then it dawns on me. Images overflow my mind. The ropes around my wrists and ankles, my shrieks of pain, his hands around my throat, the old musty walls surrounding me, the man in the red sweater. Run.

I quickly turn away from the marigold field. Heading toward the fire didn't seem so bad after all.

I'm still not far enough, I hear the door slam from the house.

“Amelia!” The man calls. “ Why did you leave Amelia? We were just having fun?”

He’s not close enough, but I can feel his evil presence grow nearer to me. My heart begins to race seemingly at a thousand miles per hour, and miraculously, my feet travel at the same pace. I had wished my memory had kicked in faster, rather than being triggered by the very place I had escaped, but here I am, again, running for my life from the man in the red sweater, just like I previously had done. He must have drugged me, or maybe I passed out from the overflow of stress combined with adrenaline. I hear the grass rattle about fifty feet behind me.

“Get back here you pretty little flower!” He yells “I'm not done with you!”

Oh yes you are. You are most definitely done with me, a memory of being in the finals for track in High School enters my thoughts, he shouldn’t have taken a runner. My legs were weak, but light like feathers. It almost felt like they weren't my own, like an Angel was running them for me. I could hear his footsteps recede further and further, until I could no longer hear them, I had lost him, but I continued to run south towards the forest, where the fire was. I could run east, but I needed a landmark. The last thing I was going to do was to run in circles and end up right back in square one. I’d rather die by smoke than suffer at the hand of that psychotic man, I think any woman would choose the same. As I approach the forest, the smoke becomes thick, the air is scorching, but it doesn't stop me from running towards the fumes. It becomes harder to breath, I can feel the smoke cling to my lungs, gravity takes my body, my vision darkens.

I awaken, high pitch ringing tones pierce my ears, my vision remains blurry. I hear voices, voices of men. I feel as if I am floating, have I died? I don't know. Where am I?

“She’s gaining consciousness” I hear a man say. His voice is deep, but soft and calming. As I gain my vision, faces begin to appear. Men in fire uniforms surround me, I am strapped to a stretcher, an oxygen tank rests over my air ways. I begin to panic and yank my arms, the straps too familiar to the ropes that bound my wrists. “Woah!” The man sitting next to me gently places his hand on my arm. “You're safe now, no ones going to hurt you.” he reassures. I know, but I must get these straps off my arms. I quit yanking, instead I slowly motion my hand for him to remove the bindings. He glances at one of the other men, concerned, the man nods his head. Then he carefully unstraps me, a wave of relief brushes over me. “Do you have a name dear?” the man asks.

“Jason she’s got a damn oxygen tank on and she almost died, she can’t speak” one of the other men replies.

“Right.” Jason says, then he reaches for his pocket, places a pen in my hand, and a small paper beneath it, “ you got a name dear?”

I grip the pen with the little strength I have, and slowly write, Amelia.

“Alright Amelia, do you have anyone that may be looking for you?”

I write again, I don't know.

“That's okay dear, we’ll figure this out, you're in safe hands now okay?” He reassures me. All I can do is slowly nod, before I fade away to the darkness, once again.