Run Away Sharon

COCOS ISLAND, COSTA RICA

MARCH, 1876

The sound of the waves crashing into the rocky shore was frightening as the Costa Rican winds in the Cocos Island blew with violent intensity and the smell of rain filled the air.

Sharon stood at the cliff's edge, facing the ocean; sad and defeated, broken and afraid, tired and submissive. She was ready to end it all, ready to let the violent waves claim her as their own and end her suffering once and for all. Her entire life had been completely ruined in the past two years and her fantastical world, her perfect life, and everything she had suffered to achieve were now being flushed down the drain as a memory about to fade away from the realm of existence.

Her eyes were profusely leaking with the tears of a woman torn apart and furious at the world. Who had she offended? What crime had she committed? What wrong had been done to make the universe punish her so? Why was she the one suffering when the real criminal; a man worse than the devil himself was out to get her?

All of these questions enveloped her mind but an answer could not be found. This was the end for her, she decided, moving even closer to the cliff's edge, trying to summon the courage to jump.

Meanwhile, Peter was returning from his fishing trip and he descended from his boat by the seashore. He stood below the cliff while he tied his boat up, and off-loaded his catch and his equipment when his eyes spotted a figure on top of the cliff. It was getting dark and the figure was too far away so he couldn't tell what it was. He dismissed his thoughts and climbed up the side of the cliff.

As he walked over to his little cottage at the end of the cliff, he saw her. Her hair flowed in the wind like a golden wave and her aura for some reason arose his senses. She wasn't looking in his direction and he walked closer before realizing what she wanted to do.

"Hi there," he spoke.

She gasped, "Don't come any closer. I'll jump, I swear I will."

"Please, don't! I just want to help you, that's all," he said cautiously, not wanting to cause her to jump.

"No one can help me now. My life is ruined. I might as well just end it now," she moved dangerously closer to the edge.

"No, please. Look, I don't know you and I don't know what you're going through but I know this; killing yourself is never the solution. No matter how hard things are and how hopeless your situation is, as long as you are breathing, there's always hope that things will get better," Peter pleaded.

"You don't know anything about my situation," She said, still not facing him.

"I may not know you but I've been in your shoes before. I know what it's like to feel like your life's no longer worth living. I've also wanted to end it all; to end my pain and suffering, but I chose not to. Do you know why? Because I realized that life is the most precious gift. It is sacred and important. Please, don't throw away yours. Let me help you," he begged.

"Why would you want to help me? You don't even know me," she truly wondered.

"I can't just walk away and let you die. Let me help you. If no one else will, I will. Please!" Peter said again.

"Just leave me to die. There's nothing left for me," she said frantically.

"Please don't do it. I beg of you," he moved closer to her, his hand outstretched, offering her salvation and a promise of a possibly better future. "Just take my hand, and I promise I'll do anything I can to help you. Please."

She slowly turned around and faced him. Gosh, was she beautiful? Peter quickly thought to himself.

Her beautiful blonde hair blew rapidly in the wind. Her deep blue eyes which were bluer than the sea glistened due to her tears. She had the most perfectly outlined facial features. Long and lustrous eyelashes, and rosy pink heart-shaped lips that would look enchanting when curved into a smile.

Why would a beautiful woman like her ever want to end her life? What kind of trouble was she in? He didn't know but what was certain to him was that she needed his help and he was ready to give it.

She reached out to him and as he was about to hold her hand, the edge of the cliff on which she was standing gave way and collapsed underneath her weight. She screamed as she fell, a fall that would have led to certain death but Peter managed to grab onto her and struggled to pull her up.

"Please, don't let me fall," she begged as she held on to him, all thoughts of suicide completely forgotten and a determination for life took its place.

"I've got you. I won't let you fall," Peter assured her as he pulled her back to the ground.

They both sat down and he held her tightly, consoling her as she wept, obviously troubled by the mistake she had almost made.

"It's ok! It's ok. You're safe now."

Peter took her to his cottage which was a bit higher up the landscape. As they walked over to the house, the winds blew even more violently and the rain descended upon them before they managed to get to the shelter of the cottage's roof.

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. She hesitated, but the loud and intense boom of thunder convinced her to go in because as far as she could tell, this was probably the safest place for her to be at the moment. The room was dark so Peter quickly found his lantern and after striking a match, he turned it on. They were in his living room which was small and averagely furnished but it had a heartwarming feel to it.

"I have a brew of tea on the stove. Would you like some?" Peter asked as he walked into the kitchen.

All Sharon managed was a nod at his question. He came out with two mugs in his hands and offered one to Sharon which she took with cold shaky hands.

"You must be freezing. Let me get you a towel," Peter ran upstairs and got her one of his towels, wrapping it around her carefully and after that, he offered her a seat.

After she had a few sips of her tea, her eyes couldn't help but survey his living room. The room smelled like wood and cinnamon and the sides of the wall had little wooden sculptures of animals on them. There was a bookshelf by the side, close to the door and there were hand-knitted coverings on the couch, the armchair and the rocking chair which stood close to the fireplace where Peter now crouched under, placing little logs to start a fire to keep them warm.

She finished her tea and he took her mug.

"Would you like a warm bath, some dry clothes perhaps?"

"Yes, that would be nice," she responded.

He led her upstairs to a bedroom, which she immediately assumed wasn't his but a woman's judging by the look of it.

"The bathroom is just ahead of this room. I've already heated some water for you. You can pick a dress from the cabinet to change into. I'll be downstairs if you need anything." As he was about to leave, he turned and asked, "Dinner! Would you like some dinner?"

Sharon nodded again, not wanting to seem demanding or an inconvenience. Before he closed the door behind him, the sound of her voice stopped him.

"Whose room is this?" She asked.

"It was my daughter's room!" Was all he said.

"Where is she?" Sharon asked again.

Peter was silent for a while, and then he answered, "She's not around anymore."

And he left her in the room to clean herself up.