Intellectual property of Nanna Marker. Rebekka was nowhere to be seen, and that dampened Baltin’s mood somewhat. Even if all the village had adopted...her, he still felt for her as a father would. Yet, a feast had been well overdue, so Baltin kept the musicians going, encouraged both men and women to dance, and kept close eye on the too young couples who might, dazed by the festivities, dare act too far beyond their age, if he allowed them to slip into the shadows. The feast was so lively, even. The next few days followed a similar pattern, days of dodging through shadows trying to remain unseen, grabbing food where and when I could find it, then sleeping wherever I thought I would be safe for the night. I was terrified that some one would see me and hurt me. Fear of capture and loathing at my grotesque twisted body gnawed at me, driving me into deep despair. I spent many nights crying myself to sleep, and when sleep did come, it was filled with nightmares of what might happen if I was. They all chimed in, “No it’s not.” “She’s so spoiled,” was the consensus. “You don’t know it but her family is super rich.” “Really?” I was surprised. “Yeah, like the richest!” They started teasing me. “You had your chance pal. You should have stayed in Nuremberg and let her try on her new night gown. You may have had marriage plans in your future.” They laughed tickling me and piling on.“You guys are kidding me, truly,” I said. “Nope,” said Maria. That is the truth but look. You now have. I cry out in absolute terror and stagger. Fortunately my flashback now is as brief as ever. It almost gives me a glimpse of an infinite horror but then my mind pushes the nightmare away. But I don't want to stand here anymore. I feel too exposed. I am vulnerable, and I absolutely don't have the guts to stay here. After gingerly testing the weight of my two suitcases again, I resume my march. I take another three steps, and then my wrists leave me crying in agony. My mental defenses fail in the.
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