Be Somewhere

The windowsill was slippery from the rain. More than once Ricky almost lost his grip. The night's air was warm and friendly. Ricky was positive that jumping from the third floor would have the ground in a less friendly mood than the air.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven... Eight..."

The height was dizzying and Ricky wasn't sure whether or not jumping was actually worth it. If it were just a normal beating, Ricky was sure he wouldn't have jumped... but there was a screwdriver involved. The panic was starting to seize his stomach. He had never been a fan of heights; and the thought of pain by falling or pain by brutal injury wasn't helping the jump appeal to him.

"You wouldn't dare even think about it!" Richard shrieked through the hole.

That's what sent Ricky over the edge. Ricky didn't have much going for him. he wasn't very big or strong when compared to his step father. He wasn't overly smart and he couldn't talk people out of things. All he had was his unpredictability. It wasn't very much, but Ricky prayed that it would be enough to get him out of there alive.

He sat on the windowsill and pushed off. Ricky was terrified of heights; so it came as a great surprise to him that the feeling of the ground rushing up at him with alarming speed didn't frighten him. If anything he was relieved. It wasn't as hard as everyone made it out to be; jumping. It took five seconds to make the decision, five seconds to do it, and after that, the repercussions didn't matter... or they wouldn't if the building was taller.

The ground hit his knees with a dull thud. The first result was shock, then a pain started to seep into his entire body. He stood up and moved everything around; everything hurt, and there would be bruises later, but nothing was broken.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven... Eight..."

Something in the front yard made an unmistakable crash. It was the sound of a door being slammed open, and knowing Richard, leaving an indentation in the front of the house.

"Jesus Christ, Richard! You took the door off the fucking hinges!"

His mother... Ricky never got why they stayed together. She hated everything about him and everything he did. She resented him for drinking and hitting her son. He hated everything about her, but at least she had money to satisfy him. He had nothing.

"Shut up Woman! I'm gonna kill that little brat of yours as soon as I find where the little shit went!"

Ricky knew where it went from here; his mother would scream protests, Richard would hit her, she would drink. Once she hit her third shot of whiskey she was no better than him. There was no chance of safety tonight. He did what he always did; he ran through the woods with no idea of where he was going, and with no haven to go to.