24 April 2012
Denmark was behind her, a thin grey line on an ever-distant horizon. She looked back once and regretted it. That thin grey line held within itself everything she'd known, loved, and recently feared. To stay was death, to leave was terror.
The sea opened out in front of her, the sky darkening overhead as the ferry plummeted over the waves. England would remain invisible in the emptiness of the sea for a few more hours - a faraway destination she'd only ever heard about. Someone had once referred to it as a proud land, a place bereft of feeling where only the strongest survived. But she had to believe different, even if just to persuade herself to continue travelling there. Denmark had disowned her. Her family had rejected her, and now more than ever she wished God had left her alone. It was unfair, she thought, of Him to play with her in this way; to take her happy world and turn it in on itself with a concoction of religious misery. And at the same time He was all she could trust in.
Runaway • Opuss № I