Whimsical Words

Her toes cleft deep wounds in the beach's soft sandy surface. The sea licked her feet gently, like a scolded dog. It was asking her to stop.
“No,” she thought to herself. “I can't. I can't stop.”

The moon caressed her skin, as a mother would caress her dead child. She shook her head slightly, her heart pounding, her legs pumping. She had come this far already, she couldn't stop now. She wouldn't stop now. She couldn't see them. She heard them though. Behind her. She heard them, the harsh sharp sound of the clicking. The clicking as the straightjacket's clasp was fastened.

She wanted to scream. She bit her lip, tasting the metallic blood, letting it fill her mouth. She had to focus. Her destination? She wasn't exactly.... Her thoughts paused. A shiver crept up her spine. Whispered words hissed past her. The soft sand grinding at her already worn feet. She tripped. The sea water bathed her for a second, but retreated at her touch. It was scared. The wind picked up. The whispered words, flying whimsically, effortlessly through the air stung her. The whimsical whispered words on the wind hurt, the whimsical whispered words on the wind burnt, the whimsical whispered words on the wind they – the whimsical whispered words on the wind, whimsical whispered words on the wind, whimsical whispered words on the wind. She clenched her fists, filling the with the soft sea sand. The soft sea sand, the whimsically soft sea sand, the whimsical whispered words in the wind and the soft sea sand sprinkled between the words whispered whimsically in the wind while the soft sea sand sprinkled to the wind with whimsical words being carried in the wind carried the soft sea sand...she screamed.

Silence. She gasped. The waves washed over her. But...it was silent. Far in the distance she heard dogs barking but...it was silent.

Her toes cleft deep wounds in the beach's soft sandy surface. The sea licked her feet gently, like a scolded dog. It was asking her to stop.
“No,” she thought to herself. “I won't. I won't stop.”

She had been running forever, but she remembered little of what had happened. She remembered a forest, vaguely,  high branch where she sat...sat in the forest. She supposed that she had hit her head somewhere along the line, that would explain her bleeding lip. And the rather high pitched zing in her head. She was tired, and thirsty. She wasn't all too sure why she was running, or what she was running to. Or from. She really was thirsty though. She stopped, and caught her breath. Off to her left were lights. Probably a gas station. They would have water.

The owner's eyes followed her as she walked in. It made her feel a little awkward, but she ignored him. The station was more or less abandoned, apart from the owner, who sat, dutifully, at the till, watching her. She opened a fridge and took out a bottle of water, feeling the cool air escape to her skin. She opened the bottle.
“You going to buy that?” The man asked softly, as if he was afraid to ask.
“Nope. Are you?” She asked, holding the bottle out, as if offering to him.
“No ma'am,” The middle aged man said with a frown.
“Oh,” She said softly, almost disappointed. She drank. She drank lustily. She turned the cap back and put it back in the fridge. She made her way to the door.
“Ma'am,” The owner said, still softly, as if he was afraid to talk.
“Yes?” She asked, stopping at the door, noticing coins in his hand.
“Not that I mind, but, you're naked,” he said. She looked down at her naked body.
“I know,” she replied. “so are you, under your clothes.” As she walked out the owner dropped the coins on his till. They clinked. Clicked. Clicked like a straightjacket's clasp being fastened.

Her eyes grew wide. Where was she? How did she get here? She wanted to scream. A man, sitting by a till smiled at her. She snarled. And ran. But it was too late. They were there. All thirty of them, dressed in shiny coats, with dogs on leaches, and...the white straitjacket waiting for her.
“I'm not what you think I am,” she told them. She heard laughter to her right. Her head snapped around.
“I'm not!” She shouted. “I'm the exception to the rule,” She said arrogantly. More laughter.
“I am!” she shouted again. More people laughed. Her father laughed. Her father's face above hers, a knife in his hand, he was laughing, his laugh echoing through the forest. It was too big to try and run away. The forest laughed.
“No!” She shouted. More people laughed, everyone laughed, she was alone.
“No! I'm fine! Leave me!” She screamed. She was on her knees, something binding her arms back, ropes or...something. Then she heard it. She stopped screaming. Someone was whispering. Whispering whimsical words to the wind. The words would help. She sighed, and closed her eyes, allowing the whimsical words in the wind to wash over her.

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Just to give some quick context, I wrote this as a narrative essay for an English exam with the topic "The only exception", hence the short length and the kind of clumsy dialogue at the end.