Cuts P.O.V

When I wake up, my body is freezing. The temperature has continued to drop during the night. Not to mention that any small movement sends me into agonizing pain. My body has been pushed to the limit this time. It makes me begin to wonder if it's time that I should just give up. Unfortunately, I know suicide isn't the answer.

I don't believe in Heaven or Hell. I'm not religious and I don't believe in the afterlife. Reincarnation is a nice thought, but with the way this life has gone, I don't want to live through another one. If anything, I just want this all to end.

After a few moments, I force myself to get off the ground. I lean against a tree for support as I look around at my surroundings. Every direction looks the same, but hopefully, if I follow the footprints I left behind last night I'll be able to get out of the forest.

I'll travel to the edge of the forest while it's still daylight. I'll stay there and watch the house for a bit. Once Ricky leaves, I'm getting the hell out of here. He's never going to see me again.

Slowly, I begin to walk. Every step is agony. My ribs are killing me. Practically every inch of my body has major bruising. It doesn't exactly make this a walk in the park. I'm in a lot of pain and I'm forcing myself through it. I won't be going to a hospital anytime soon.

Luckily, while I was running last night I managed to leave a few footprints in the dirt. That's something that will help me find my way back. I must have been running faster than I thought because the trail continues for quite a while. Although, I suppose it was a good thing that I ran so quickly. I was trying to get away from danger. If I had run much slower Ricky would've caught me for sure.

After a bit of walking, I reach the edge of the forest. Ricky's house is visible. His car is still in the driveway, along with another car; a police car.

"Shit," I mutter softly.

Surely Ricky wouldn't be the one that called the police. It must have been one of the neighbors who thought that I had to be dead. I have rather conflicting feelings about this situation.

The police could investigate the house, search top and bottom, every inch, and they most likely wouldn't find any hint that I was ever there. I had my phone, clothes, and that's just about it. I never was a big material person. Ricky didn't take any pictures of us. I never liked photos. My name isn't in any legal documentation. The only scrap of evidence that proves my existence at that house is the neighbors that didn't even like me being there. Other than that, the only other thing that proves my existence would be medical documentation that was left behind at the mental institution when I finally managed to get out of that hell-hole.

I hide behind the trees and bushes and watch. The police are inside, most likely questioning Ricky about last night. I did scream rather loudly. Hopefully, someone heard that and can give a statement. Surely someone can acknowledge my existence.

I watch in silence for many minutes. All is quiet. I'm too far from the house to hear any conversations, but I can see a lot of what's going on.

Suddenly, the police escort Ricky out of the house in handcuffs. The main hint is the fact that he has his hands behind his back. To my surprise, I can make out a few bruises that I must have left on him. I don't know how else he would have gotten them unless he went back to the bar to drink and got himself into a bit of a tussle. If that's the case then I wouldn't be surprised. That sounds like something Ricky would do.

As much as I want to smirk at the fact that Ricky is being taken into custody for what he's done to me, I can't bring myself to do it. My face is in too much pain to make such an expression. If I didn't hurt so much then I'd be snickering and glaring as he got in the squad car. He deserves punishment for beating me so severely. No one should have to go through what I have. The pain never ends.

Ricky is forced into the back seat of a squad car while the police officers talk to one of our neighbors. I believe her name is Gene or at least something of that nature. I can't make out what she's saying, but by her body movements, she's most likely talking about the volume of the screaming that took place last night.

Gene describes the events of last night to the best of her abilities. At one point, it seemed as though she was describing the characteristics of a person, which I can only assume would be me. I can't imagine that she's seen anyone else coming around the house besides Ricky or myself.

After the police leave, our neighbors slowly emerge back into their houses. Now that the drama is over, they don't feel the need to be social. They mostly just wanted to be nosy and find out what was happening. They were always itching for something dramatic like this to happen. At least it'll give the housewives something to gossip about for a few days. Then they'll move on and forget any of this ever happened. That's just how it works. That's how things have always worked when it comes to me.

Once unwanted, always forgotten. That's just the way the world works. If no one wants you, once you leave they forget you. That's how it's been and how it always will be. People don't change. A few might try, but in the end, no one ever really changes.