Status: let's see what happens.
Where Nobody Hides
fiona;
listen
In the same way as many times before, I didn’t know where I was going. The only goal I had in mind, one dripping with desperation and fueled by the loathing I had for my mother, was to get away from the house that had never quite been a home to me. I’ve had plans to move out since the moment I realized the toxic environment within that house was far from the norm, and that there was nothing or no one there for me– not my reckless, angry brother who had the tendency to roll in at three in the morning drunk or high or a combination of both, and certainly not in my manipulative mother who believed vodka tasted like love if she drank enough of it. However, while I had always intended to leave, I didn’t think it would end up being in this way: running frantically down the street in my neighborhood as my drunken mother screamed threats at me, wielding a frying pan that I knew she fully intended to hit me with. Tears streamed down my face as I ran, but since I feared for my safety, I couldn’t let myself stop to break down completely.
“Fiona, you bitch, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” my mother shrieked, her voice a slur.
I let her words slide off my back, although they did so with a feeling of acid smattered on my skin, and my breath hitched in my throat as I continued to run, having nearly reached a seemingly safe patch of trees by that point. Using the last bit of strength that I had, I propelled myself forward, breaking into the shelter of them after a few strides, then letting myself collapse to the ground, knowing that my mother wouldn’t even try to find me this far away from home if she were sober, much less drunk.
Exhaustedly dragging myself to lay on a pile of dried leaves, I continued to cry, my ragged breaths shredding my lungs, and my sobs so forceful that I had to curl into myself to keep from breaking apart. The only thought my mind had the capability to formulate were the words help me strung together like Christmas garland wrapped around a banister, but I knew my pleading was in vain; I’ve always had to find my own way, and because no one was ever there to save me, I saved myself.
After awhile, I found no use in wasting my time crying any longer, so I picked myself up, brushed the wetness from my eyes and the leaves from my clothes, and began walking in the direction of my car. My eyelids were sticky with tears and my limbs were so heavy and tired that I could barely find it in me to keep moving forward, but I knew I had no other option, so I did. When I had finally made it to my car, I unlocked it and pulled open the door, and with a deep sigh, let my body sink deep into the seat. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to rest for a moment before sticking the key into the ignition and starting the vehicle. I pulled away from the curb it was parked on, a few blocks away from my house as my mother couldn’t know I owned a car or else it’d become just another thing for her to use and eventually destroy, then headed out of my subdivision towards a nice little motel called the Mermaid Inn just under five minutes away from my house. Over the years, it had become my safe haven as I oftentimes escaped there on my mother’s worst days. However, I knew that time my escape was for good, and I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.
As I drove the familiar streets of Menlo Park, California, my home for as long as I had been living, I let my eyes glaze over and my mind go completely blank. There was nothing I wanted more than to sleep, so this was the best I could currently do. Fights with my mother always left me drained in every sense of the word. After them, there wasn’t much else I felt up to besides sleeping, and considering what had happened earlier, I knew I would be calling in sick to work; I could afford to lose a day, but only a day. It wasn’t like I worked two jobs for no reason.
I had to almost entirely support myself, the only help I received being that my grandparents paid for my phone and car. Of course, they had also offered numerous times to have me stay with them, but I loved them too much to be such a burden. For the time being, I had enough money saved up to continue supporting myself with the added expense of a motel room; I just had to cut down somewhat on the frivolous expenses like nicer clothes and books, but I’d be okay.
I arrived a few minutes later, immediately finding a parking spot and, once fully parked, pulling out the duffle bag I always had in the backseat for my stays there. Although I knew that time it wouldn’t be enough to live out of indefinitely; I’d have to sneak back into my mother’s house tomorrow to get the rest of my things, but I would worry about that when the time came to.
Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I climbed out of my car and began walking to the entrance of the motel. Thankfully, the check-in procedure was brief and painless, so I was in my new room within ten minutes. Without second thought, I dropped my duffle on the floor in front of the bed, pulled off my shoes, slid off my jean shorts, unhooked my bra from under my tank top, and crawled into bed, burrowing under the welcoming down comforter. In only moments after shutting my eyes, I fell headfirst into a troubled but still satisfying sleep.
***
When I awoke naturally some time later, it was completely dark out—a stark difference from the sunny light I had fallen asleep to. I rolled over to face the digital clock on the nightstand, finding out that it was nearly three in the morning. I sighed, knowing that I had messed up my sleeping schedule and I had a shift at my job in the bookstore beginning at eleven in the morning. Submitting to the fact that I would just have to be a little tired tomorrow, I got out of bed and went over to unzip my duffle in search of new clothes, figuring I should go get some food at the McDonald’s down the road. I pulled out a pair of yoga pants and a plain turquoise t-shirt, put both of them on, grabbed my keys and phone, and headed out the door.
As I made my way to the lobby and then to my car, my mind wandered to places that were anywhere but there. Although the nighttime breeze was warm, I couldn’t help but shiver a little as it ruffled my hair and brushed over the bare skin on my arms. I sighed as I felt the familiar hollow feeling of loneliness settle into my stomach and constrict my chest. Sure, I had friends-- many of them, in fact. However, I really didn’t feel connected to anyone because far too many people that mattered to me had left when I had grown attached to them, so I just didn’t allow connection anymore. I wasn’t going to cry over it, though; I’d just take what I could from people while I have them, and let them go when they choose to. Still, a tiny part of me did still long for someone to share my life with—someone who cared—but I knew I wasn’t going to find that, so I pushed the idea away. At the realization of how cliché my thoughts were, I snorted in amusement. I would not let myself be a basket case.
When I reached my car, I stuck the key in the door to unlock it, and then got in, plugging my phone into the AUX chord and turning on Purity Ring—the perfect music for this time of night. As I drove the short distance, I drifted off, losing myself in the near-hypnotic effect of the music until I was back at the motel with a bag full of food and a large Coke sitting in the passenger seat. I got out of the car, taking the food with me, and walked back inside and up to my room. Once there, I slipped out of my shoes and climbed into bed, setting the bag and cup on the nightstand. I flipped on the lamp and TV, turning it to MTV in hopes of catching one of the more entertaining, although still tasteless, Adult Swim shows, and I smiled with satisfaction when I saw that Bob’s Burgers was on.
I watched the show absently, chewing on fries, as my mind once again carried me away from the present. I thought about work in the morning, and how, although I genuinely enjoyed my job because not many people ever came into the store so essentially all I had to do was read all day, I really wasn’t in the mood to drag myself there and be a functioning member of society. That day had been a pretty brutal one, and all I really felt up to for the foreseeable future was laying in bed and doing very much of nothing, but I knew that wasn’t an option if I didn’t want to end up homeless. So I’d just muscle through it like I had many times before, and be grateful that I didn’t have to work at the Café tomorrow—a much more strenuous job.
After a string of episodes, Bob’s Burgers ended and transitioned to Robot Chicken. Disgusted, I changed the channel, stopping when I got to the Food Network where a rerun of Hell’s Kitchen was playing as I was entirely up for amusement at the expense of a bunch of near brutalized chefs. For an episode, I gave my full attention to the show, but somewhere at the start of the second one I felt my eyelids grow heavy and, without my consent, I dropped off to sleep once again.
In the same way as many times before, I didn’t know where I was going. The only goal I had in mind, one dripping with desperation and fueled by the loathing I had for my mother, was to get away from the house that had never quite been a home to me. I’ve had plans to move out since the moment I realized the toxic environment within that house was far from the norm, and that there was nothing or no one there for me– not my reckless, angry brother who had the tendency to roll in at three in the morning drunk or high or a combination of both, and certainly not in my manipulative mother who believed vodka tasted like love if she drank enough of it. However, while I had always intended to leave, I didn’t think it would end up being in this way: running frantically down the street in my neighborhood as my drunken mother screamed threats at me, wielding a frying pan that I knew she fully intended to hit me with. Tears streamed down my face as I ran, but since I feared for my safety, I couldn’t let myself stop to break down completely.
“Fiona, you bitch, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” my mother shrieked, her voice a slur.
I let her words slide off my back, although they did so with a feeling of acid smattered on my skin, and my breath hitched in my throat as I continued to run, having nearly reached a seemingly safe patch of trees by that point. Using the last bit of strength that I had, I propelled myself forward, breaking into the shelter of them after a few strides, then letting myself collapse to the ground, knowing that my mother wouldn’t even try to find me this far away from home if she were sober, much less drunk.
Exhaustedly dragging myself to lay on a pile of dried leaves, I continued to cry, my ragged breaths shredding my lungs, and my sobs so forceful that I had to curl into myself to keep from breaking apart. The only thought my mind had the capability to formulate were the words help me strung together like Christmas garland wrapped around a banister, but I knew my pleading was in vain; I’ve always had to find my own way, and because no one was ever there to save me, I saved myself.
After awhile, I found no use in wasting my time crying any longer, so I picked myself up, brushed the wetness from my eyes and the leaves from my clothes, and began walking in the direction of my car. My eyelids were sticky with tears and my limbs were so heavy and tired that I could barely find it in me to keep moving forward, but I knew I had no other option, so I did. When I had finally made it to my car, I unlocked it and pulled open the door, and with a deep sigh, let my body sink deep into the seat. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to rest for a moment before sticking the key into the ignition and starting the vehicle. I pulled away from the curb it was parked on, a few blocks away from my house as my mother couldn’t know I owned a car or else it’d become just another thing for her to use and eventually destroy, then headed out of my subdivision towards a nice little motel called the Mermaid Inn just under five minutes away from my house. Over the years, it had become my safe haven as I oftentimes escaped there on my mother’s worst days. However, I knew that time my escape was for good, and I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.
As I drove the familiar streets of Menlo Park, California, my home for as long as I had been living, I let my eyes glaze over and my mind go completely blank. There was nothing I wanted more than to sleep, so this was the best I could currently do. Fights with my mother always left me drained in every sense of the word. After them, there wasn’t much else I felt up to besides sleeping, and considering what had happened earlier, I knew I would be calling in sick to work; I could afford to lose a day, but only a day. It wasn’t like I worked two jobs for no reason.
I had to almost entirely support myself, the only help I received being that my grandparents paid for my phone and car. Of course, they had also offered numerous times to have me stay with them, but I loved them too much to be such a burden. For the time being, I had enough money saved up to continue supporting myself with the added expense of a motel room; I just had to cut down somewhat on the frivolous expenses like nicer clothes and books, but I’d be okay.
I arrived a few minutes later, immediately finding a parking spot and, once fully parked, pulling out the duffle bag I always had in the backseat for my stays there. Although I knew that time it wouldn’t be enough to live out of indefinitely; I’d have to sneak back into my mother’s house tomorrow to get the rest of my things, but I would worry about that when the time came to.
Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I climbed out of my car and began walking to the entrance of the motel. Thankfully, the check-in procedure was brief and painless, so I was in my new room within ten minutes. Without second thought, I dropped my duffle on the floor in front of the bed, pulled off my shoes, slid off my jean shorts, unhooked my bra from under my tank top, and crawled into bed, burrowing under the welcoming down comforter. In only moments after shutting my eyes, I fell headfirst into a troubled but still satisfying sleep.
***
When I awoke naturally some time later, it was completely dark out—a stark difference from the sunny light I had fallen asleep to. I rolled over to face the digital clock on the nightstand, finding out that it was nearly three in the morning. I sighed, knowing that I had messed up my sleeping schedule and I had a shift at my job in the bookstore beginning at eleven in the morning. Submitting to the fact that I would just have to be a little tired tomorrow, I got out of bed and went over to unzip my duffle in search of new clothes, figuring I should go get some food at the McDonald’s down the road. I pulled out a pair of yoga pants and a plain turquoise t-shirt, put both of them on, grabbed my keys and phone, and headed out the door.
As I made my way to the lobby and then to my car, my mind wandered to places that were anywhere but there. Although the nighttime breeze was warm, I couldn’t help but shiver a little as it ruffled my hair and brushed over the bare skin on my arms. I sighed as I felt the familiar hollow feeling of loneliness settle into my stomach and constrict my chest. Sure, I had friends-- many of them, in fact. However, I really didn’t feel connected to anyone because far too many people that mattered to me had left when I had grown attached to them, so I just didn’t allow connection anymore. I wasn’t going to cry over it, though; I’d just take what I could from people while I have them, and let them go when they choose to. Still, a tiny part of me did still long for someone to share my life with—someone who cared—but I knew I wasn’t going to find that, so I pushed the idea away. At the realization of how cliché my thoughts were, I snorted in amusement. I would not let myself be a basket case.
When I reached my car, I stuck the key in the door to unlock it, and then got in, plugging my phone into the AUX chord and turning on Purity Ring—the perfect music for this time of night. As I drove the short distance, I drifted off, losing myself in the near-hypnotic effect of the music until I was back at the motel with a bag full of food and a large Coke sitting in the passenger seat. I got out of the car, taking the food with me, and walked back inside and up to my room. Once there, I slipped out of my shoes and climbed into bed, setting the bag and cup on the nightstand. I flipped on the lamp and TV, turning it to MTV in hopes of catching one of the more entertaining, although still tasteless, Adult Swim shows, and I smiled with satisfaction when I saw that Bob’s Burgers was on.
I watched the show absently, chewing on fries, as my mind once again carried me away from the present. I thought about work in the morning, and how, although I genuinely enjoyed my job because not many people ever came into the store so essentially all I had to do was read all day, I really wasn’t in the mood to drag myself there and be a functioning member of society. That day had been a pretty brutal one, and all I really felt up to for the foreseeable future was laying in bed and doing very much of nothing, but I knew that wasn’t an option if I didn’t want to end up homeless. So I’d just muscle through it like I had many times before, and be grateful that I didn’t have to work at the Café tomorrow—a much more strenuous job.
After a string of episodes, Bob’s Burgers ended and transitioned to Robot Chicken. Disgusted, I changed the channel, stopping when I got to the Food Network where a rerun of Hell’s Kitchen was playing as I was entirely up for amusement at the expense of a bunch of near brutalized chefs. For an episode, I gave my full attention to the show, but somewhere at the start of the second one I felt my eyelids grow heavy and, without my consent, I dropped off to sleep once again.