At some point in the night, or perhaps the early morning, the fever and the dizziness stopped. Ellie remembered some vague feeling of relief when it did, but she didn’t properly wake up until the break of dawn, where the sunlight cracked low in the trees and brought her around from her slumber.
She was aching slightly and her arm had gone numb. She moved it into a more comfortable position.
The first thing Ellie noticed was the pain – or rather, the absence of it. Her eye wasn’t thumping and her lip didn’t seem to hurt anymore. Groggily, she pulled out the mirror from her bag and put it in front of her face.
She gasped.
Her eye was now only a little swollen, instead now imbuing a yellow tinge of a bruise. Her lip seemed to be completely healed.
Confused, she inspected her face even closer. Her wounds now looked several days old, when in fact they were less than twelve hours old.
She wondered for one bizarre moment whether the painkillers she had taken had somehow worked extremely efficiently; but then she reminded herself painkillers didn’t heal wounds.
Deciding she had more important things to do than sit on a rock all day, Ellie grabbed her rucksack,putting her mirror away, and threw it over her shoulder as she stood to leave.
Ellie stopped after a step; a weird sensation had flooded her body. She didn’t exactly know how to explain it to herself, but she had this tension in her stomach… there was a brewing nervousness, like she had forgotten something. Perhaps she had stood up too fast? She vaguely remembered that she had been ill through the night and wondered if she was coming down with the flu.
That doesn’t explain how my injuries healed so well.
Ellie ignored the unhelpful thought and continued to walk, but couldn’t shake that nagging feeling of anxiety.
She stopped again. Had she forgotten something?
Deciding it would be best to go back and check, she turned on the spot.
Once her eyes had locked on to what she saw, she barked a sharp scream. She was staring at herself, standing by the rock where she had been moments ago.
She looked … blank. Her eyes were glassy and looked right at her.
No… right through me.
Confused and scared, Ellie closed her eyes tightly and tried to wake up from whatever nightmare this was. She felt the wind blow by her ears and opened her eyes. She was standing in the exact spot she had just seen herself looking back. She turned to where she was moments ago, but there was no-one there.
What the hell?
She thought about it hard, sitting back down on the rock, and came up with only one conclusion: she had had some sort of out of body experience.
She had read about that kind of thing before; it apparently happened when someone had a near-death experience. This train of thought only piled on Ellie’s dread. Was she dying? Despite what she looked like, she had suffered blunt force trauma and a feverish night in the woods. She suddenly remembered her fears of a concussion the night previous.
If you were dying, you wouldn’t feel this good.
This was a good point to remember, she figured. Trying to calm herself down again, Ellie closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself leaving her body. Then when she opened them, she could hardly believe it had worked.
Her body was sat by the tree, eyes closed, breathing as normal and there she was, standing five feet away from it. She moved down through the woods gliding alone with ease, she looked down at her own arms and legs to find that she was translucent. She could see right through herself to the ground below.
Heart beating fast again, Ellie surged forward. She didn’t understand what was happening, she only understood the thrill of what she was feeling in her chest as she zoomed out of the woods and through the park.
There were a few dog walkers strolling down the path, but none of them paid her any attention as she soared through faster and faster, down the hill, onto the road, up a few backstreets and…
She stopped right outside of her house.
The exhilaration quickly dissipated and was replaced by fear. A chill ran down her spine. She drifted up and into the house, through the wall. When she was inside, the snoring from the living room told her that her father had not moved from when she left. She moved into the living room.
It was a small square room, with a curtained window covering the back garden and the ceiling fan whirring. A crack in the curtains let a ray of sunlight in the room, illuminating the dust floating around the room. Empty beer cans and full ashtrays covered the coffee table and the floor around it. The TV had been left on at a barely audible volume, and was broadcasting the morning news.
“…An earthquake with a 2.8 magnitude has struck parts of London, the British Geological Survey says. Fortunately, it caused no damage apart from one local resident who claimed that two of their dishes had been smashed in the mild tremors.”
Holding the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the so-called news, she looked down at her father.
His face was sweaty and blotchy, his hair was unkempt and his chin wobbled as he snored.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to be there anymore.
Ellie closed her eyes and when she opened them, found herself sitting back in the woods, as if nothing had even happened.
She stood up, her heart thumping.
What did this mean? What could she do?
She paced around the tree a few times as she tried to make sense of what was happening, before sitting down on the rock again and opening her phone (51% battery remaining) to search the internet.
It took a few moments for the internet to connect, and she remembered the trouble she had trying to use it the previous night.
She searched “out of body experience” and “quick healing”. The search results were not immediately helpful. Vague sales pitches of various internet gurus and adverts for comics and graphic novels clogged her screen. The nervousness in her stomach didn’t allow her the patience to dig deeper either, so instead she put her phone back in her pocket.
She explored the woods in what she had now dubbed her “out of body” form three or four more times before she finally decided it was really happening and she wasn’t simply dreaming. She was about to continue her experimentation, when she saw a young woman strolling up the path with her dog, and decided to leave.
Ellie picked up her bag and started heading down the path. She was heading towards home; although she wasn’t sure why. She had some vague notion in her head of using her powers (she mentally scolded herself for using the word powers) to get back at her father, but realistically, what could she do? Leaving her own body would hardly help her; it’s not even like she could spook her father, because no-one could actually see her when she was out of body.
The walk home, fuelled by apprehension, adrenaline or a healthy dose of both, took no time at all. Before she knew it, she was staring at her house. It was a narrow terraced street and the house stood crammed in a row of seven houses. In comparison to the neighbours, Ellie’s house looked grimy and filthy. The front door was splintered in parts, the paint in desperate need of another coating. A portion of the downstairs windowsill had broken off years earlier and never been repaired, and Ellie couldn’t even remember a time the outside letterbox lid had been screwed on.
Ellie moved her hand to the door handle, but paused short of opening it.
Just go now. Go and never come back.
The thought repeated in her mind with increasing urgency. She felt feverish with anticipation; but she had to do this.
With this thought firmly in her mind, she opened the unlocked door.
The odour of beer and sweat in the heated house hit Ellie immediately, after spending the night in the open, fresh air. The knot in her chest tightened.
Quietly, Ellie moved upstairs. She went straight into her wardrobe and pulled out a big, empty suitcase. For a moment, she remembered the countless times she had stared at the suitcase and dared herself to fill it.
She who dares, wins! She thought to herself, and started throwing shirts, bottoms, blouses and whatever else she needed in the suitcase. As she packed, she thought how odd it would look to her new employers that she was suddenly quitting without notice, and what her acquaintances at work would think… but this was more important. She wasn’t just leaving home, she was leaving the city. She was going far away, and she wasn’t exactly sure why, but London seemed to be the place that called to her.
As she half-fantasised about another life in a new city, away from everything holding her down here, she couldn’t ignore the ever-present-and-frustrating voice in the back of her head, which questioned how she was going to travel, how she was going to fund her trip and how she expected to do all this as a homeless, nineteen year old unemployed girl?
Determined to stick it to the voice, she told herself she knew the answer to at least one of those questions.
After the suitcase was full and she was sure she had everything of use she could bring, Ellie left the room with the case in tow.
She walked through the hallway, downstairs and into the living room, knowing her father was still unmoved from his nest on the sofa.
Looking at him all sweaty and matted, and listening to those snores, a sudden anger erupted in her chest. She was still nervous; but she was no longer scared.
“Wake up!” she shouted.
Her father jumped and half-stirred. He opened his eyes marginally and scowled at Ellie. His eyes lingered on her face, which had healed well but was still evident of damage, and then he mumbled.
“Whaddya shoutin’ for?”
“I’m leaving,” Ellie said, firmly.
Her father stared at her.
“You’re not,” he replied.
“I am,” Ellie said, “I’m not asking for your permission.”
Her father rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands and opened them properly. She could tell from his expression he had a headache. He was not, however, deaf to her tone, and tried to wake himself up.
“What did you say to me?” He replied, and his tone was not abstract either.
“You heard what I said. I’m leaving. You’re on your own now.”
“What’s all this then? You think you’re an independent, young woman because you’ve been in work for a week?” He grumbled, with venom.
Ellie glared at her father and didn’t bother to hide her expression. She was patiently furious, she felt liberated and calm in one sense, and devastated and irate in another.
“No, Dad. I just got sick of you hitting me.”
The accusation hung in the air like the other bad smells. It was the first time she had confronted her father directly. His physical abuse had always been something they never talked about when he was sober. She knew there was probably some great shame in him, given that he had never apologised, never even acknowledged any time he had hit her while drunk.
She could see her father’s expression mutating as he tried to process what was going on amongst the haze of hangover.
“I … barely touched you, look at you. You’re fine,” he said, not looking at Ellie but instead rubbing his eyes and face as a guise to hide.
“You know what you did. And I know it too. And now whenever someone asks where I am, you’ll be reminded of it.”
“So, that’s why you’re leaving, is it? To punish me, aye?” Her father’s voice rose in tone and volume. Desperation was seeping in and he responded in the only way he knew how; anger.
“I’m leaving because you deserve to be on your own, and I deserve… anything other than this.” Ellie spat.
She couldn’t help but feel satisfaction in watching her father squirm, and the venomous barbs she shot at him were like adrenaline shots.
“Not leaving… you’ve got nowhere to go…” Her father continued to grumble, but Ellie was now interrupting and talking over him.
“I’m leaving…” Ellie repeated and then, after debating whether to say it for only a split-second added, “…and I’m taking the truck.”
And now, at the threat of her stealing something tangible, something of monetary value from him, he looked straight at her, his eyes wide, as if it was the most insulting thing she had ever said to him.
“You’re not fucking taking the truck,” he said, in a deadly, low voice.
“I’ve already got the keys, and I’m leaving now,” Ellie replied stubbornly, and she grabbed the handle of her case and turned on the spot. She saw her father lunge towards her from the corner of her eye. She had half-expected it, but also thought that given his hungover state he wouldn’t put up much of a fight.
Ellie was far too small and too slow to outmanoeuvre her father in the cramped living room, so instead she extended her arm out, hoping to keep him away for just a moment longer.
But her father never reached her.
Initially hiding her face, Ellie frowned and looked up. Her father was, inexplicably, hovering a few inches off the ground, five feet away from her and seemingly unable to move.
Ellie looked at her arm in front of her and for a moment it felt like she was looking at someone else’s arm. The dissonance faded and she realised in that moment that, whatever was happening with her father, she was controlling it.
A rush surged through her chest. It was fear and confusion and glee. Finally, her father couldn’t overpower her anymore.
Ellie stepped forward with her arm outstretched and her father moved backwards in the air too, until he was up against the wall. He did not yell or shout. On the contrary, he was deathly quiet. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but she’d never seen terror in her father’s eyes before. It was not the reaction she had expected from him.
“What?” was all he could splutter out.
“I told you, you can’t hurt me anymore. I’m taking the truck. And I’m leaving…” Ellie said, but then she added, “…and if you try to call the police and tell them I robbed you, aye, they might find me… but then I’m going to come back to you… and do you really want me to do that, knowing what I can do?”
The words fell out of her mouth on instinct. Finally, her father could feel how she had felt all these years. When her mother left she needed the comfort of her father, and got only misery.
Now, it was his turn to suffer.
A muffled dripping sound distracted Ellie’s train of thought and she looked down for the source of the noise. Her father’s jeans were dripping wet. It started from the top and dripped down, spilling on the carpet below.
Ellie looked back at her father; his face was red and he couldn’t meet her gaze. The fear in his face had turned to humiliation. Suddenly, she didn’t feel powerful. Ellie brought her arm down and her father fell to his knees.
Ellie felt sick and disgusted.
At that moment, she thought maybe she wasn’t so different from her father after all.
Dazed, Ellie stumbled over to her father’s wallet. She did not look at him. She counted four hundred pounds. She was going to take it all, but after a moment of hesitation, she put half of it back, so her father could eat, she told herself. He was due another payment in two days and that was enough to alleviate the guilt she had not expected to be confronted with.
Then, without another interaction with her father, she grabbed the case and left the room.
© 2026 Rhys Clark. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, including scraping for AI training or large language models, without the prior written permission of the author.
Writing by Rhys Clark 