A Way Out

     "Get out!". A voice hammered in George's head, over and over again. "Get out before it's too late!" The boy snatched the door knob and stumbled out into the street, falling over his own feet. Behind him, his stepfather. George could feel his drunken breath on the nape of his neck. He shuddered. "Oh God," he thought, "if he gets me this time..." He picked himself up and began to run as quickly as his legs could carry him, as though the very devil was after his hide.. After a while, he couldn't hear anything more behind him. He slowed down, panting heavily......     In front of him, his beloved woods. He ran among the beckoning trees, feeling the soft, sweet soil under his feet. He looked for his hiding place - two old, gnarled trees, entwined and entangled in each other's arms as thought in an act of love, had built a kind of shelter for the boy. He wriggled through the leaves, totally exhausted. Safe at last! Pain. Something was wrong with his right arm. He pulled up his sleeve and saw a dark, black bruise. Well, he thought, tomorrow it will change to velvet, maybe with a tinge of yellow. He knew quite enough about such colours....
      It was getting dark. He decided to remain there for the night. He leaned his head against the bark of one of the trees and felt weary and dispirited. A picture of his mother came to his mind He loved her still although she didn't try to help him anymore. At the beginning of his trials, she had tried to intervene to stop the beatings. But later on, she had given up. He just needed to look into her empty eyes to see her resignation.
     Tomorrow. He would decide what he would do tomorrow. With this thought in mind, he fell into a deep sleep. He woke up with the first rays of the sun, feeling heartsick but above all, hungry. He stood up and looked at himself. His clothes were in a pitiable state - his trousers torn at the knees and his t-shirt, dirty with soil and sweat. He reached in his pockets and found a coin - 2 Euros. Better than nothing, he thought.
     Suddenly he knew. Yes, he knew exactly what he would do. Satisfied with his decision, he strolled out of the woods into the city, about ten minutes away. Some people looked at him curiously, at his dirty dishevilled state, but he just smiled back. Humming a tune he had learned from his mother, he sauntered leisurely to his favourite ice-cream shop. Three scoops, vanille flavour. Great taste! Light-hearted, he walked back into the woods. His bridge was waiting for him. He had always loved to stand there, looking down at the black, tormented waters. He arrived at the top and looked down. It seemed to him  that he could look right through the water, with its welcoming arms  reaching out to him in comfort and consolation. He sat on the railing, balancing himself carefully. He noticed that someone was looking at him. He turned his head around. A jogger.  He was shouting something at him and gesticulating with his hands. George gave him a smile and jumped.......

 
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