Horrid Thoughts with Hard Questions
Skipping Town
If I sneak in through the back I should be able to get in unnoticed.
It’s quarter after nine—we have thirty minutes until the train leaves the station. I can hear the television blaring from outside Claire’s house.
My aunt and uncle must be watching their daily after supper shows. I suppose Darren is there too-Claire’s son of a bitch brother who molested her when she was just 7 years old. I wish I could march in and slit all of their throats. I’d probably throw in a few punches just for my own personal pleasure. But that would kill Claire, no matter how horrible they’ve been too her. I would never cause her as much pain as they have.
I snag the spare key from under the cheap angel statue sitting beside the back door and quietly let myself in—taking off my shoes beforehand so they won’t squeak, but they probably wouldn’t hear it regardless.
When I get to her room I find her apprehensively throwing things into a suitcase and a duffle bag. When I walk in she jumps.
“I-I wasn’t sure how much I would need.” She stutters.
“Just pack all of your clothes and whatever money you have. It's a new life, Claire. We can't hold onto the past."
“I’m not sure if I can go through with this. Maybe things will change! Today Dad said-”
“I don’t care what Uncle Jeff said. We have to go, and you know that.” That’s just like Claire. She always tries to see the good in people.
She stares at me for a second before throwing some more clothes into her suitcase. She slams it shut, throws the duffle bag over her shoulder and calmly walks towards the door.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
It’s quarter after nine—we have thirty minutes until the train leaves the station. I can hear the television blaring from outside Claire’s house.
My aunt and uncle must be watching their daily after supper shows. I suppose Darren is there too-Claire’s son of a bitch brother who molested her when she was just 7 years old. I wish I could march in and slit all of their throats. I’d probably throw in a few punches just for my own personal pleasure. But that would kill Claire, no matter how horrible they’ve been too her. I would never cause her as much pain as they have.
I snag the spare key from under the cheap angel statue sitting beside the back door and quietly let myself in—taking off my shoes beforehand so they won’t squeak, but they probably wouldn’t hear it regardless.
When I get to her room I find her apprehensively throwing things into a suitcase and a duffle bag. When I walk in she jumps.
“I-I wasn’t sure how much I would need.” She stutters.
“Just pack all of your clothes and whatever money you have. It's a new life, Claire. We can't hold onto the past."
“I’m not sure if I can go through with this. Maybe things will change! Today Dad said-”
“I don’t care what Uncle Jeff said. We have to go, and you know that.” That’s just like Claire. She always tries to see the good in people.
She stares at me for a second before throwing some more clothes into her suitcase. She slams it shut, throws the duffle bag over her shoulder and calmly walks towards the door.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”