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(( This is a corrected version of all the journal enteries put together. If you read it, you might see that some parts have been alterted. lol! Well, read this if you preer the corrected proof. The next page in the story will be posted latter tonight!))
My footsteps fell hard against the hobble stone pathway. I could hear the echo of my pursuers behind me. My breaths were becoming hollower with every step; I dare not glance over my shoulder. A gunshot rang out, and I knew it had been near my head. I ran faster, my eyes bulging with fear. As I turned right, I saw a whole in a wooden fence to my left. I dived through it, beating my way through the hedge that had been on the other side. The branches whipped into my eyes, scratching my arms and legs. I tasted blood on my lips, felt a cut on my cheek ooze forth the crimson liquid. Finally, I saw the yard I had battled my way into. I stopped, waiting for a sound. On the other side of the fence I heard the footsteps stop. I held my breath, heart beating so fast and so loud I was sure they could hear it. Their muffled voices cursed, and then ran on. I was safe...for now.

Snow was softly falling from the dark sky. My wounds from the bush stung, but I ignored the pain. I slid down to a sitting position, leaning my head against the hedge. I let myself breath hard, I was practically gasping for breath. I closed my eye with exhaustion. Suddenly. I heard the door of the house across from me open. The porch light fired on. I opened my eyes to see a hobbled old man stumbled out and down the steps toward me. His head was mostly bald, a few wisps of gray hair stuck out around his ears. His eyes were not harsh and demanding, but seemed to pity my blood stained form. He was clothed in pale blue spotted pajama pants and a white shirt, a wooden cane in hand. His feet were bare, and I noticed one was metal. Now that I looked at him closer, his right eye was also mechanical.
"What ye 'be doing?" The man asked sharply. I gasped for breath then did my best to reply.
"I...fell through your hedge." I replied between breaths. The man studied me for a moment, and then smiled. He was missing a few teeth, for I noticed they were replaced with metal ones. The light fell to his left hand, revealing that it, too, was mechanical.
"Come." He motioned back to the house. I stumbled after him, the muscles in my legs screaming with pain. We entered the dark house and no light was on. He led me to what I thought to be a living room. "Sleep here." He gestured to the couch with his right hand, the one that did not hold the cane. I nodded, the fell onto the couch.



Light was streaming into my eyes as I awoke the next morning. My back and legs were stiff with pain, and my clothing was torn. I looked down at me clothing, puzzled. Then the events of last night came rushing back to me. I groaned, running my bloody fingers through my matted blond hair. I looked around the room I was in. I had been right last night. The room resembled a living room. In front of me was a rather large T.V. The curtains on the windows were drawn but light still seeped through. A small stand next to the couch supported a phone. A few cabinets housed various possessions of the old man that had rescued me; of at least, I think they belonged to him. I heard footsteps on creaking stairs. I looked to my left, seeing a staircase through the open door.
"'Ello, dear!" He called to me. He smiled, stilling wearing what he had last night. "Aren't you an early bird?" He chuckled slightly. My _expression must have been something of bewilderment, for he then said. "Tis barley 7:30, A.M. of course, for it is morning." He started into the room. I stumbled up, wincing as the pain surged through my body.
"Um, alright." I stammered, unsure of what to say.
"Well, I'll make you a spot of breakfast and then we'll decide what to do from there." He smiled, walking into the room. He hobbled across it and walked through the door on the opposite side. He was then lost from view, and I heard water running. I followed the old man, not knowing what else to do. I soon entered a kitchen. The floor was tiled with black and white squares, and the counters were very white and sterile looking. The stove was black and spotless, as was the fridge. The kitchen table was wooden, a very lightwood I could not identify, and hading matching chairs. Assorted pictures donned the walls. The old man opened the fridge and grabbed some eggs. He then crossed to one of the cabinets, pulling out a cast-iron skillet, and placed it on the stove. The second knob on the right was missing, I noticed. He turned the knob that was next to that one. He looked at me and smiled, then cracked the eggs, putting the eggs in the skillet.
"Go ahead an' sit at the table, dear." He told me. I nodded and did so. Five minutes passed with no speaking. I looked at my scratched hands, despairing at the pain. I was a little confused why these old men choose to help me, when I was so obviously being chased. I looked up to see him scooping some scrambled eggs onto a plate.
"Here you go." He said as he placed the plate in front of me.
"Th...Thank you!" I stammered, glad for the food. Now that I thought of it, my stomach was howling with pain. I took the fork that had been on the plate and took a bite.
"Your welcome. Now what is your name, miss?" The old man asked, sitting across from me. His icy blue eyes stared intently on me.
"My...my name?" I asked, gulping down some more eggs.
"Yes." He replied simply.
"Sabriel."
"Ah, I'm Wilson"
We looked at each other and I ate some more. When I had finished he stood and took my plate to the sink.
"Thank you." I said to him once he returned to the table.
"No problem, dear." He answered. He looked at me with his piecing blue eyes. I shifted my position, a little uncomfortable under the pressure they seemed to be implying. The man smiled. "Who were those people who were chasing you?" He demanded with a forceful tone. I wished not to say anything in reply, but the fear of him turning me in weighed itself on my shoulders.
"Government Cronies." I said with a shrug, trying to sound more cool and confident then I felt.
"Why" he asked just as forceful.
"Ran into a spot of trouble." I replied. He smiled at this.
"Let us get you cleaned up then." He stood and stumbled out of the room, cane in hand. I followed, not sure of what else to do. We entered the living room, then the hallway in which the stairs were located. I looked at the walls in interest. Faded orange and blue striped wallpaper adorned the walls, and I guess this look must have been popular in the 1970's. Pictures enclosed by black frames hung randomly here and there. Some were so faded they were no longer a picture, but a white piece of paper. Others were in black or white, and I guessed they must have dated back to the 70's as well. We walked up the stairs, which creaked eerily with every step. As we climbed each step, the hallway upstairs came into view. It was very much like that of the other hallway downstairs. A few end tables housed large piles of books, but other then that the room was quite plain. Three doors opened to the hallway. One was open, revealing a bathroom, and the other two shut. The curiosity that had gotten me into the trouble I had been running from last night rekindled, and I looked at them with a strong feeling to open them.. The old man smiled, demonstrating one was locked, the other his bedroom. We then entered the bathroom.
"Under the sink are things you can use to doctor ye wounds. Come on downstairs when ya done." He told me, then left, shutting the door behind him. I watched him leave, and then opened the cupboard under the sink. Many different medical items were stuffed in there. Grabbing some Hydroxide and some cotton balls, I set to work.

The cuts on my arms from the bush stung with excruciating pain. If figured they were infected. The deep cuts on my shoulder from where the bullets skimmed my shoulder were crusted with dirt, and when I applied pressure puss squirted out. My blood stained clothes seemed to have been glued to my skin. I had to cuts them off so that I could get at my wounds. I knew that I would need medical attention, but I would dare not risk it.

I didn't know how long I was in the bathroom cleaning my wounds. Time seemed to stop, my hands moving as if they weren't a part of me. I didn't think. I guess you would call it shock. The events of the last days seemed like some movie. A horror movie, I might add. But it wasn't a movie. It was real. And how it started, I'm not quite sure anymore.

Now that I really think about it, it must have begun four days ago, at the protest I organized. Yes, that would be the start. I was in front of a government building, along with many others fighting for my cause. My picket sign was very plain, but bold and meaningful. The sun beamed down upon our backs, as if approving of what we did. Some people honked their horns as they passed our protest, supporting us. Others made rude gestures with their hands, and then there were those who shouted crude words at us. But I had not cared. Making a difference was all that mattered. I yelled the loudest, marched the highest, and seemed to lead everyone in our efforts to change the way the government was thinking. Then the sirens could be heard, soon followed with the cops. We scattered. Some were shot. I saw the ambulance take them away. The authorities seemed to center me out as the leader, which would be true. I ran for my life. Guns were fired behind me, this was getting out of hand, and I knew then that I would be a marked woman. I barley escaped that day, and luckily, without injury. They had been on the hunt for me the day after and the day after that.

Then yesterday, I decided to attend a protest like the one I had attended three days before. It would take part in front of the same building, protesting the same purposes. I assembled my picket signs and headed out. Within five minutes the jig was up. Most of us had not assembled yet, but our numbers were still great. Many were arrested. I heard their words of panic and defiance. As for me, I was chased down. The stars were bright, the moon helping guide my way. I ran down many different alleyways, trying to shake of the government cronies that followed me. They shot at me, barley missing, sometimes skimming my shoulder. They wanted me dead. I was influencing too much. I had also found about their plans -The information that made me more dangerous.

Then I had dived through that bush, which led me here. And now it was a matter of being patient, waiting for the news and TV broad casts to go out, incriminating my name as a dangerous person. I slightly smiled at this. My name would be on the 'Most Wanted' list. What would this old man, Wilson, do? Would he turn me in or risk his life to help me? Did he even know who I was or what I knew?
I looked at the mirror in front of me. I guess I wasn't that recognizable with my hair in my face. I studied my appearance, thinking of ways to make myself different. My long black hair would have to be cut. Yes, and perhaps I could arrange it to go into my eyes. Perhaps I should buy some of that comedic spread. I smiled. The perspective of becoming someone else was falling in to place. I finished cleaning the countless wounds and picked up the scissors I had been using to cut the bandages. I looked at myself one last time, regretting that I would have to cut my hair. I waved at my reflection, then let the scissors fly....

I didn't look to bad, I thought. My hair, now at chin length, was rather unevenly cut but I could get that fixed. Yes, and perhaps buy so colored contacts. I gathered up the countless items I had been using and put them away. Then I strutted out of the bathroom. My clothes were torn, but as soon as I walked down the stairs Wilson supplied me with clothes. I quickly ran back up and changed, then came back down. I couldn't recognize myself. I decided I better change my poster and the way I walked, so I sat down near a window, observing passer-bys.

"I'm going to the store, Sabriel. Please don't steel anything." Wilson said, and then left the house. I merely nodded, waiting until I saw his car leave the driveway. A perfect escape! I would just leave and then he wouldn't be able to turn me in. The events in my life seemed to be heading in a good direction, and I couldn't help beaming. I felt full of confidence and ready to take on the world. No one could touch me now! It was as if the last four days had not occurred. I strolled out of the house, not bothering to lock the door. I wouldn't be here again. A few people looked at my curiously, but no one seemed to recognize me. This filled me with esteem. I strutted, beamed and inclining my head to everyone. I even let a dog lick my face.
It was really sad how far I'd thought I'd last. A police cruiser went by, and within moments they recognized me. The sirens went on and the call out the window for me to freeze. People started to point at me and walk faster. I stood there motionless, on the spot, going to be caught. As the door of the car opened all thought of surviving pulsed through my head. I ran, what else could I do? I ran as fast as my bandaged legs could go. "HALT!" I heard the policeman cry. I ran faster, my hurt legs once again screaming with pain. The man started to run behind me. I could hear his heavy footsteps. People dived out of the way as I charged down the street, not caring were I was going. Soon I saw another cop car coming my way on my right, another on my left. I was trapped, or was I? I jumped over the small hedge growing in some body's yard, high tailing it into their back yard. I smiled at the family that sat at a picnic table, having a barbecue. I jumped over the fence into another person's yard. I heard the policemen cursing as they tried to follow. Some ran back to their cars and took off, hoping to head me off when I reached the streets.

I glanced over my shoulder to see four policemen two fences away from me. I smiled slightly and turned, running through yet another barbecue and into the streets. I was breathing hard and exhausted. But I kept running. I knew if I'd stop II would die. I ran through an alleyway. The walls were caped with slime and I saw a rat or two. The dumpsters were over-flowing and an almost unbearable stench over came me. Almost gagging, I hurried out of there only to meet yet another cop car. Two men jumped out and shot at me. I turned around and ran back through the alleyway. As I came onto the other street yet another cop car cornered me. I was going to be captured. All I could do was lie down and hopefully not get shot.

Both sets of cops encircle me. I closed me eyes, ready for someone to shoot me. But instead I was ordered to remain silent and was handcuffed. A small hope suddenly burst into, filling me with a sense of power, within my hopeless heart. Perhaps I would live to see another day! I let them lead me away with the fullest of cooperation. This surprised them as much as it did me. I wanted to run away, to be free of their grasp. But something in my head told me to remain calm. And I listened, and I was taken away.

As the drove me away in their cars, I saw people point and gasp. Then we passed Wilson's house, and I saw the look on his face. It was a mixture of disbelieve, perhaps even pity. I should have stayed. Why did I leave?! The thoughts of what I might have done extinguished any hope. The overwhelming misery of capture filled me heart, making my eyes slightly water. What would I do now? Where was I going?
I must have fallen asleep, for when I opened my eyes we were in a whole different landscape. I glanced around me, once again trying to remember where I was. In front of me I saw the two police officers that had arrested me. One was asleep and the other driving very intently. I dared not to ask where we were. So, now deprived of the courage to ask simple questions, I watched the landscape speed by. It was still raining. The raindrops slid down the window, blurring my view slightly. I observed we had left the city. We rarely passed a house, but instead farms. But these farms were strange. They were all yellow and dead looking, some burnt. As we kept going, the more it became burnt. As we rounded a turn, a sudden forest green building rose in the barren wasteland. I saw the government symbol upon most of the walls and flags. A troop soldiers marched along the road. They didn't pay any attention to our car. We continued up the road and entered into the fortress through a heavy gate. A sensation of fear made an uncomfortable lump rise to my throat. I almost gagged, tears once again coming to my eyes. I felt confused and lost, unable to think clearly. Everything I was seeing didn't seem to sink in at all.

We stopped. I was then shoved out of the cars and grabbed roughly by some soldiers. I followed them without rebellion. My feet felt like logs and my usually snappy tongue felt like lead. I couldn't even manage to sigh. The government officials lead me to a jail cell, if you could call it that. I had seen jail cells before, been in them, but this was much worst. The floor was covered in dirt and the bed a pile of soggy hey. No light could be seen nor something that might serve as a bathroom. As I entered the cell, I noticed a hole in the back. The questions of were to use the bathroom was answered. The locked the door behind me and I sat down upon the straw, at total loss of life. I felt as if I should, perhaps, just give up. Let them kill me. At least death might offer some comfort.... No! I thought to myself forcefully. Death is not the answer. I struggled up off the dirt floor and wandered over to the small hole in the ground. I saw that the last lucky resident must have gotten sick. A wave of dizziness of came over my head, washing out any thoughts. I walked back to the hay bed and sat down. With my back slumped against the wall I let the waves lull me into a dreamless sleep...

"Wake up, idiot!" called a harsh voice. I opened one heavy eyelid. An officer was shaking me awake. My body was so soar the pain of his force made no difference. I groaned heartily and told him I was awake. He smirked slightly and left. I stretched and leaned against the bars of the jail cell. "Get off the bars!" barked the same officer. I did as he told me, instead leaning on the wall. My body screamed with pain, and a throbbing headache didn't make anything better. My clothes were again dirty; no doubt the hay was not fresh. Now that I looked at it closer, I saw a few fleas jump from its nastiness. I sighed; my position seemed hopeless. Where was I, anyways? I wondered. I looked for a window, but there was none, only a small skylight that showed that the hot sun was blazing above me. As soon as I returned my gaze to the officer guarding me, the door that lead out of the cell room burst open. From behind my bars I watched a plump lady push a very sterile looking cart towards me. On the cart was a bucket, and what it held I really had no clue. A plastic bowl was next to it.
"Breakfast." She called gruffly and put a ladle into the bucket. She poured what looked to be some kind of crude gruel into the bowl. I felt a lump raise in my throat. The lady grumbled something and shoved the bowl between the bars. I took, realizing that I was hungry. She watched my eager eyes with out a sign of interest. I grabbed the spoon she offered and took a bite. It was horrible. It reminded very much of the taste of glue mixed with the tang of cow dung. I forced the fowl paste down my throat. My face must have turned pale, for the officer laughed heartily. The lady seemed pleased as well and left. I managed to eat the rest of the stuff, without, thankfully, puking. Breakfast was over, and I wondered what would be for lunch... I leaned my head against the bars, letting my body slide to the dirty floor. "God damn it, don't you listen!" Snapped the guard. "Get off the bars!!" He barked. He obliged without care. My mind seemed numbed; no thoughts seemed to circle through my mind. I let a sigh escape my sun-chapped lips. Where was my brain? My urge to live?

I must have nodded off, for when I opened my eyes I was being stabbed with the metal ladle. I looked up. The plump lady was prodding me with her serving spoon. "Get up, lazy butt!" She said in a singsong voice. I stood and wiped my cheek, which was were the ladle had been making contact with my face. The gruel that was on the ladle was crusty and stuck to my face in a sickly matter. The lady shoved a bowl into my hands and quickly retreated, as if afraid I had some sort of deadly sickness that would infect her. I mumbled thanks and sat down again. She exited and I took a bite. The thick paste hit the bottom of my stomach. I leaned my head, once again, on the bars, feeling a wave of disgust wash over me.
"Get off the bars!!" Howled the guard. I nodded, feeling the bars...what? Flex? No! They were metal... My mind seemed to be brought out of its cruel slumber. I stood and scurried to my flea filled bed. There I finished the meal I was given and began to plan my escape