Runaway
Chapter 1
My father was screaming at the top of the stairs, though I wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying. He wielded a pack of 'Camel' brand cigarettes in his left hand, waving them occasionally like a knife for emphasis. They weren't mine, if you're wondering, they were my brother Rob's. I probably should have confessed to holding them for him, but it's hard to rat out a sibling. Especially a sibling that has fifty pounds and a whole twelve inches on you. So, I took the fall for the fifth time that day, having started out at breakfast letting myself be blamed for some missing beer. My mother would be home for work in an hour, then it would be her turn to scream and lock me in my room for the rest of my life, needless to say I wasn't looking foward to that exactly. There had to be some way out...
"You want to kill yourself," It wasn't a question, incase you didn't know. "You don't care about yourself or anyone around you, do you?" That one hit hard, if I really didn't care about anyone else I wouldn't be covering my idiot brother, who I knew damn well wouldn't appreciate it. No one ever appreciated my efforts and outside it had started to rain. I had an idea.
"Are you even listening to me young lady?" No, I really wasn't, I was staring out the small window, out at the trees so green and full and leafy, they would be great to hide in...
Standing at the foot of the stairs I had an advantage, a mad dash would certainly throw him off guard long enough for me to at least get out the door...He would be sorry, as would everyone else, if I was gone...
The problem with teenage angst, with hormones, is that they tend to get away from you and lead you places you didn't originally want to be, and that's exactly what they did with me. Except it wasn't hormones...It was my feet, they were thudding against the hardwood floor before I knew what was going on and carrying me out the door, my father yelling profanities behind me. Words kept repeating themselves in my head like I was insane, "They'll be sorry."
"Jane, get back here!" Not a chance, once you do something like run out the door like your pants are on fire, it would be stupid to turn back and face the music, so I kept running as fast as my legs could take me.
You might think it was pleasant, almost every teenager has thought about running away once in their lives, fantasized about how liberating it would be...It isn't, not yet anyway, I was sure it would get better but for now the rain splattered against my skin and dampened my hair and clothes, making me feel heavy. But I still ran, I ran faster than you've probably ever seen someone run, driven by the childish visions filling my head,
My mother sitting on the couch, wishing she could have been there to maybe do something...
My brother, thinking about how if I came back he would never ever ask me to cover for him again.
My father, oh my father, how he would rue the day he ever jump to conclusions about his daughter.
Oh yes, in my mind I had planned so many victories like this, but none this great. Why do the great plans always go awry?
"You want to kill yourself," It wasn't a question, incase you didn't know. "You don't care about yourself or anyone around you, do you?" That one hit hard, if I really didn't care about anyone else I wouldn't be covering my idiot brother, who I knew damn well wouldn't appreciate it. No one ever appreciated my efforts and outside it had started to rain. I had an idea.
"Are you even listening to me young lady?" No, I really wasn't, I was staring out the small window, out at the trees so green and full and leafy, they would be great to hide in...
Standing at the foot of the stairs I had an advantage, a mad dash would certainly throw him off guard long enough for me to at least get out the door...He would be sorry, as would everyone else, if I was gone...
The problem with teenage angst, with hormones, is that they tend to get away from you and lead you places you didn't originally want to be, and that's exactly what they did with me. Except it wasn't hormones...It was my feet, they were thudding against the hardwood floor before I knew what was going on and carrying me out the door, my father yelling profanities behind me. Words kept repeating themselves in my head like I was insane, "They'll be sorry."
"Jane, get back here!" Not a chance, once you do something like run out the door like your pants are on fire, it would be stupid to turn back and face the music, so I kept running as fast as my legs could take me.
You might think it was pleasant, almost every teenager has thought about running away once in their lives, fantasized about how liberating it would be...It isn't, not yet anyway, I was sure it would get better but for now the rain splattered against my skin and dampened my hair and clothes, making me feel heavy. But I still ran, I ran faster than you've probably ever seen someone run, driven by the childish visions filling my head,
My mother sitting on the couch, wishing she could have been there to maybe do something...
My brother, thinking about how if I came back he would never ever ask me to cover for him again.
My father, oh my father, how he would rue the day he ever jump to conclusions about his daughter.
Oh yes, in my mind I had planned so many victories like this, but none this great. Why do the great plans always go awry?