"Come back here, Lizzy!" Lizzy’s uncle’s wife growled, her eyes flaring like fire.
Lizzy, being an orphan and taken in by her uncle, had faced a series of abuse and hardships with her uncle’s wife. Her uncle had always been good to her, but his wife, Mrs. Johnson, loathed the sight of Lizzy and made no effort to hide her dislike.
Most of the abuse and aggressions against Lizzy by Mrs. Johnson were perpetrated whenever her uncle was away.
"You are the witch who is not letting me have peace in my own home. I will not let you have peace either!" Mrs. Johnson threatened further.
Lizzy, in her early twenties, with a moderate stature and a light skin color now darkened by neglect to her skin, Her blue eyes readily captivated the few men that came across her, but she was hardly approached. Her dressing was hardly presentable, as she was rarely provided with new clothes, only those used by others. Lizzy had become accustomed to the cruelty of Mrs. Johnson and hardly shed a tear for the hurt. She apologized on her knees as Mrs. Johnson rained more abuse on her.
James Town was small and popular for its seaport. Lizzy had made up her mind to flee the town, and today was the day she hoped she would escape from Mrs. Johnson. It was afternoon, and Mrs. Johnson set out to pick up her two sons, Dave and Greg, from high school.
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Immediately after she stepped out of the house, Lizzy ran into her room and packed a few pieces of luggage and some money she had saved up. The yacht was set to depart by 2 p.m. And missing it would cost her another eight months of torture.
"May we have your ticket?" The officer at the port asked Lizzy.
"I lost it on my way here; kindly give me a pass." Lizzy pleaded, trying hard to hide her insincerity.
"I’ll take responsibility for her," a stranger said from behind.
Lizzy turned spontaneously to face the man who offered to help. He was young, good-looking, and in his early thirties, she thought. He had a loosely worn, beautiful vintage shirt on with a pair of pants and sandals to match. He looked simple yet had an aura of wealth, and the officer was quick to show him respect. Lizzy took his outstretched hand, whose texture was soft to hold. This was the first man to offer her kindness, as her stomach churned from a mix of happy butterflies and hunger.
"Thank you," she whispered inaudibly with a smile as the stranger led her to the yacht.
What I see in this prompt is a Yacht and i feel its a haven for rest
This is my entry to Freewriters prompt
