I escaped from her. I’m freed from her greedy little grasps but there she goes, chasing me down, running, tumbling on the soft patch of turf. She has her eyes on the prize and nothing is going to stop her from getting it. The prize, me. The skinned knees, the scraped shins, the falls that she took from chasing after me had no effect on her. She’s unstoppable.

I was tied to her all morning, all two-feet-eight of her, and then most of the afternoon. I was dragged, sandwiched between doors, thrust into walls, literally abused. She had no respect for me. None. Zero. I was just a plaything to her; a rubber ball with no heart, no feelings, no soul. Maybe she’s just too young to see that I am ALL heart, ALL feelings, and ALL soul. I am a spirit in the real world, floating through the ether. To her, I was only a distraction that her parents bought to keep her busy from the arguments that they were having. But now, I’m free.

Her parents call her Sweetie or Baby and sometimes Ruby, but she’s a Bitch or a Cunt in my book. She comes after me with all she can muster. She should die. Maybe, just maybe, if I’m fast enough and if I work the breeze just right I can maneuver my way to the busy street and hopefully she’ll follow. Just maybe I would be doing her a favor, putting her out of her misery, taking her out of the world before her parents start to abuse each other in front of her, divorce, or even the typical murder-suicide. I would be saving her life.

The pounding of her tiny feet echoes behind me as I move my way through the mostly empty park. No one is chasing after her; she’s off on her own. No one is chasing after her. I’ve been floating off for quite some time now and there’s just no one. Where are her parents? Do they just not care? Then I realize, I’m the only thing that she has to hold onto. She has nothing else.

Ruby has lost her parents to the strife that most marriages suffer from. Nothing can save it. That institution that she has known all of her short life will eventually fizzle. I’m all that she has to hold on to and she mistakenly let me go. Now she struggles to grab hold again; to hold on to something that has given her some semblance of joy.

I slow down, dragging my tail, eventually wrapping it up in a small bush and give into her small hands. I can feel it; the tightness of her grip. She doesn’t want to lose anything else. Young Ruby sits there, hugging me and I hear it, the familiar giggles of warmth and joy that anyone at this age should be filled with. I hear it. As she holds me tighter and tighter, I know I am near my end.