he came to pick her up in his little white car for their second date.
he was happy to see her.
she was happy to see him. she was guarded, too.
they drove out of the town, across the iconic green bridge.
fall was in full swing. it was dark outside.
they drove out of the city lights to a small island several miles away.
fear spoke to her, ‘no one will know where to look for you if anything goes wrong.’
she ignored the voice.
the island was dotted by yard lights illuminating single homes, small farms, some businesses.
he unpacked more stories as they drove.
the stories went on and on, one right after the other with no breath or break between them.
some were tragic, some unbelievable. others were simply horrific. silence of the lambs came to her mind as she listened.
she felt his trauma. she sensed the spirit that lingered around him.
pieces of his soul were held tight, locked down in specific places in time.
it was overwhelming, nearly too much to take in.
she was silent as he drove the car out to a fishing pier and parked it.
it was pitch dark.
he got out of the car.
suddenly, she was afraid.
the thought gripped her heart. ‘what if he brought me out here to kill me?’
it was possible. his family history was violent.
no one knew where she was.
he talked as he walked around the car.
a chained fence blocked the road in front of them.
he tried to unlock it, but he could not.
he got back in the car, still talking.
she breathed a sigh of relief as he started the engine.
‘thank god,’ she sighed silently.
streetlights lit their path again as they returned to town.
she relaxed, taking some deep breaths.
she told him she’d been afraid he was going kill her.
in all sincerity, he assured her he would never do anything to hurt her.
he took her home to the stone hut.
she was safe with him.
(copyright 2106 jane doe)