The Barn–Cara Stevenson

She started out slowly but within half of a mile she had picked up her speed. God, she loved the way running made her feel; she loved the stretch in her muscles, the pull in her chest. Pushing herself faster she tried to gain some control over her whirling thoughts; she tried to let the feeling of running take over, but her fury was too powerful. “What will it take to prove myself?”she thought heatedly. “Haven’t I done all of the months of therapy?” “I put the weight back on.” Tears of frustrations stung her eyes, but her feet and breath maintained a steady rhythm. The thunder rumbled in her chest as she raced past the horses out to pasture that usually gave her a small amount of comfort, their russet bodies nothing more than a blur against the gray sky.

The memories she worked so hard to repress bubbled to the surface. For the first time in a long while she let her mind travel back to the days of battling her disorder. The wounds inflicted on her then by him and even herself still bled and festered as if it were only yesterday that she received them. She had been stupid to let some ridiculous boy tell her that she was fat and not good enough, she decided. Her mind reeled as she remembered all of the cruel words he said. The hurt and anger she felt back then rushed back to her, burning through her veins like acid and demolishing everything they touched. The tears began to roll down her face as she let go of the remnants of her self-control.

Mixing with the tears she felt the first drops of rain falling from the blackened sky. She was getting tired, but she pushed herself faster and harder. More than anything she wanted it to all be gone, the pain, the memories, her entire past, all gone. The rain was her only comfort, soothing her heated body and her frenzied emotion. It seemed to her that her mind was slowly coming apart at the seams, like some rag doll being torn apart by a crying child.

Slowly exhaustion began to take its toll; her breath was coming out in short, gasping rasps. The last of her physical energy was gone; she slowed down to a walk, her legs shaking slightly from the sudden decrease in speed. The last of her anger was spent with the final drops of rain that thumped her head, leaving only the pain.

The tears still fell, but she finally felt like she could see things more clearly now. “Your mother is scared for you. She watches you so closely because she doesn’t want to see you hurt again; she doesn’t want to lose you,” a small voice in her head said. A sob broke free as she realized the truth of those words. “I know,” she mumbled.

Her head ached and her chest was burning, but she kept putting one foot in front of the other. She knew her mother was right in being suspicious. Anorexia is never completely cured; even after two years Jamie knew she was walking a tightrope, and with one wrong step she would fall off either side. She hated herself for that; she wanted to be cured, but her disorder would forever be in her life, lurking in the shadows and waiting for the moment it could seize her again. “I can’t do this. I can’t fight this forever,” she said wearily.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she rubbed her temples gingerly, easing the pain in her head. She took a deep breath, let it out, and opened her eyes. Off to her left, perched on a hill, was an old abandoned barn, the sight of which made her stop and stare. The barn had always been a source of poetry for Jamie, though her family thought it needed to be bulldozed to the ground. Now, silhouetted against the lightening sky, it was more beautiful than ever to her.

She stepped off the road, the wet grass showering her legs with liquid prisms, and wandered up to the old building. She breathed in deep the smell of the damp, decaying wood mixing with the rich smell of the earth after rain; it was almost intoxicating. The sun was coming out now, casting its radiance on the world. The wood seemed to come alive as the light brought out the reds, browns, grays, and yellows in the ancient lumber. She smiled as the richness of the colors warmed her gloomy spirit. Running her hands over the aged wood, she felt the last of her despair leaving.

With one look at the barn anyone could tell that it had suffered greatly over the previous years; no doubt it had weathered storms comparable to hurricanes, but through all of that it was still standing. Maybe that is what drew Jamie to it that day; perhaps it was a divine intervention, for she couldn’t help but feel hopeful about her own prospects as she turned to walk away, the image of the sturdy structure burned into her mind. She knew she could weather the storms in her life, but to do that, she had to acknowledge her past.

Walking back to the road, she felt a sort of peace that hadn’t been felt in quite a while. She let the memories of her past flow through her mind, and she looked at them without fear of being hurt anymore. As her feet hit the asphalt, she stared down the road towards home. It was going to be a long trip back; parts of it were going to be uphill, but she knew she could make it. Smiling to herself, she put one foot in front of the other, and began her journey.