The forest beckons. Many days pass. The gulls have decided to leave me be for now. My blood has dried into a hard shell that even their accusations cannot pierce. My tears have dried, streaking my face with the scars of their passage. I am still alone. I gaze at the ocean one last time before heading into the forest. I rest against the thick trunk of an oak tree. The leaves fall, gently brushing across my body, cleansing me of my long exile. The salty tang of the sea has been replaced with the gentle odor of dirt and plants, life and death. I allow the leaves to bury me as I gaze at an errant ray of light that has pierced the canopy overhead. For the first time since my boat was cut loose I remember contentment. I grasp at it as it swirls before my feet. A soft voice beckons me from my leafy grave. I shake the bark that has sealed my eyes closed loose and follow the sound. I follow it through the woods. I climb steep hills. Small brooks cross my path. The water is soft against my. In doing this, I always knew Mr Allen would ask me to see him after class or to pop back at the end of the day. I used to go back to the classroom after last lesson, as I got the chance to always spend longer with him then. I started to wear my school uniform differently too. This would consist of a skirt, blouse and jumper. I used to leave the jumper off, wear my blouse, but have a black bra underneath, so that the outline could be seen under my blouse and turn my skirt up at the top, making it shorter in length. I could never do this in the morning, whilst I got ready for school, as my Mum would never have let me outside looking like this. So, I used to get changed before lessons or at a friends house on the way to school. In class, I would sit at the desk in front of Mr Allen's and every so often glance up at him, and notice him looking at me. Many times he asked me to wear the correct uniform and many times, I told him I was wearing my uniform. Afterall, I had my skirt and blouse.
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