CHAPTER 1

I heard HIM come down the stairs and I saw my life flash before me, it wasn’t the prettiest sight one can imagine. My life nowadays was the kind of miserable life that makes people feel sorry and look away. I’m not saying that I had it so bad that I lived just to survive with no food nor shelter; I had all of that, even though I was very close to that kind of life style for quite a while now. Yeah, I won’t lie; I had more than a few good times before… Let’s stay positive.

People often say that when your life flashes before you it’s because you are in danger and close to death. So to sum it all up, I was about to die. Farewell, my friend.

HE was already on the last step; I was hiding, scared to death as one might say. I heard his loud stomping getting closer and closer; HE stopped in the middle of the room and spoke: “Where are ya?” I tried not to breathe. “Where are ya, you little brat?! I’m gonna kill ya!” Like that’s going to get me out of my hiding spot. As if by saying that it would make me rethink my all hiding plan. Like “oh, you’re going to kill me, why didn’t you say that before? I wouldn’t have tried so hard to hide…”

I held my breath as I heard another stomp; HE was now very close to my hiding spot. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest, I was sure HE could hear it too.

I put a hand over my mouth to keep from making any noise as I heard him sigh and go up the creaking stairs. When I was absolutely sure HE was gone, I finally let myself breathe again. I felt my stomach tie in knots; I looked to the left, grabbed the nearest bucket and held it up to my mouth. Even though I felt awful, I just couldn’t puke and so I stayed in my small, little hiding spot, holding the bucket close to my pale face. I heard him turn on the television after probably getting some liquor. 

I had no idea what time it was, sitting there crunched in my hiding spot, but I did know it was dark outside due to a hole in the wall that HE broke and was never going to fix. I had heard him get up from the leathery stained couch, over more than ten minutes ago, and leave the house, slamming the door behind him. I heard the sound of his truck driving away, while HE ran into something, probably the green trash cans outside.

I knew it was safe to come out by now, it was Wednesday night which meant HE would be gone for at least two hours due to his new “drinking buddies”. Enough time to run away.

 

I got up slowly, stretching my long legs and trying not to make too much noise even though I knew no one could actually hear me. Although the neighbours are the least fond people I know of kids or anything as a matter of fact, they suited his new attitude. I walked quietly to and up the stairs, making sure to be as careful as possible in every step.  

Last night whilst I was in the back yard, HE found the stack of money I was saving up. Drunk as usual, HE started to scream that I stole from him, but by the time HE finally came outside, I had already escaped. I have to admit that the stealing part isn’t entirely false; I didn’t steal the money but I did steal some cigarettes and alcohol HE had lying around in order to sell it on the streets. Anyway, I managed to get away but I knew the second time HE finds me, I’ll be as good as dead.

I’ve been saving money in order to have a normal life and even go to college, like SHE always dreamed I would,  after I realised HE won’t be the one paying for my education since HE spent most of it trying to continue his addictions. However, now that HE has found the money maybe it really was time I got out of here? I thought I would hang out around here only for another few month until I felt good enough to leave, but I think my time has come.

I walked into my small room, and turned on the switch and the lights flickered but then everything went dark again. I sighed and took my old school backpack from under the wooden bed, I won’t need it anymore, packed the few clothes I had, and left the room for probably the last time. I went over to the kitchen and stuffed it with bottled water and canned goods. I looked around a bit not really searching for anything. All that’s left is the money that HE had taken away.

I had seen him going into his room with the money when I came home late that other night, so I figured it must be there. The only problem was that I had no idea where it was inside the room. Okay, there was another problem; the room was locked.

I had no idea where one might hide a key and so my time limited search began.  I looked hopelessly around the entire house, in search of the spoken key. It was like searching for a needle in a pile of straw.

After the passing of half an hour due to my hopeless search I remembered HE has a set of keys in his pocket at all times, so I went down stairs to check in the laundry, but it was no use. That’s when I began to seriously panic. So there’s no key, now what? Is there any other way to open this door? A credit card? I don’t have one. A bobby pin? There hasn’t ever been any normal girl `here.

I had no idea what to do and the clock was ticking by the seconds. I knew that if HE gets back before I’m out of here I’ll seriously become his dessert for that day. My mind raced in panic. What to do? How? How? How? Tick tock…

I looked over at the door rubbing my head trying to think clearly. Maybe it will open if I smash into it. No, that won’t work. Because a’, I’m not strong enough and b’ it would make too much noise. And I don’t want anyone to call the cops. The room began to spin from all the adrenaline and panic but I had no time to rest so I just pushed it aside and tried to focus on the only thing that’s important, getting that door open. Maybe I’ll just leave without it, find some other way to get money. But where would I get to this magical place with money? HE took all of it. I have to get that door open. I paced around the kitchen when suddenly I got an idea. Why didn’t I think of that before?

I remembered noticing something metallic popping out of the couch earlier on; I ran with no noise over to the couch and pulled it out.  I then rushed back to the locked door and tried to open it like a lock smith but struggled. I used to be good at this. I didn’t have the time to struggle. After a few tries I stopped, sat down, closed my eyes and counted to three. My heart began to slow and the room stopped spinning so wildly.

I got on my knees and tried again, I couldn’t waste any more precious time, I heard a weird click and then the door opened with a creek. All I needed was to relax. One problem down, one to go. Guess I did learn something useful from this awful neighbourhood.

The minute I stepped inside the room, the smell hit me; the stench was so horrible I hoped to live to see another day. I held my breath the second time for that day as I walked carefully through the messy room, trying not to leave any helpful clues of my being here. I didn’t want him to notice I’m gone right away.

I looked up for an instant when something caught my eye, I couldn’t believe the sight in front of me, there standing on the desk was a picture, but not just any picture but a photo of HER. I took a step closer when I heard a chuckle beneath me that made me jump. A little shaken up, I looked down and saw it was a belt. Only a belt. The same belt that’s been torturing me for way too long. 

I picked up my foot slowly as I made my way to the photo, I had to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating and so I picked it up.  It was real. There in that picture frame stood the answers to all our problems, proud and smiling. I haven’t seen her in so long, since that night. I had been thinking about her every day since, but I never actually saw her anywhere else than in my head. It was good to see her again.

I miss her; I miss the person HE was when she was around. I miss the times I would laugh so hard my stomach hurt with no reason. The times I would wake up by a kiss and not a stomping foot full of mud. I miss the days HE would smile at me with approval. Those were the good days, the days where life was just a game waiting to be played.

We moved here, to this house, this neighbourhood, shortly after the funeral. HE said he couldn’t bear staying in the house they bought together. HE couldn’t stay at the same place she used to call home. HE didn’t like that fact that the neighbours would talk about her and the fact that her friends didn’t seem to care enough. Everything reminded him of her, so HE decided that we’re moving. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to keep her memory alive, but after that night he said that I don’t have a say. I didn’t feel like I have the right to argue.

I looked at her and smiled, not a big ear to ear smile, but a small unnoticeable one. It wasn’t much but it was there. I felt a small pinch at my heart as I put the frame back on the desk; I had no time to waste and I hated him even more when I thought about it. As I put it back I noticed something written on the bottom left corner of the dented photograph. I picked it up again and saw the bold, neat handwritten letters she wrote for the man she used to love.

“I LOVE YOU AND I ALWAYS WILL, MY LOVE, FOREVER”

The photo was of their wedding day, she had the other half or at least she used to. It was weird to think that a beautiful, kind woman like her could fall for the man that can turn into such an awful monster. I put the frame back in its place before I decided to open it up, take the photo out, and put it in my pocket., whilst replacing the frame back in its rightful place.

Now that that’s out of the way I had to get on moving, I still had no idea where the money was hidden and it’s not like I had anytime left to start another wild search. I had to get that money and leave fast. I don’t want to find out what will happen if he were to catch me.

I started my search; I looked under the bed and opened draws when I caught a glimpse of the kitchen clock. HE had been gone for about an hour and a half, which meant I didn’t have so much time to spare. I opened a few cardboard boxes and then there I saw her again. Another picture of her.  I now understood why I got belted one time I tried to open a box, HE was afraid I might kill her memory as well. HE didn’t deserve her, and HE said HE didn’t want to be reminded of her. I took the picture out and swapped it for the first one, I walked swiftly back to the desk and placed the photo back into the wooden frame. I somehow still cared about him.

 Panicked, I continued to search, opening draws and closet doors, throwing clothes from the bed to the floor and back again. Where is it for goodness sake!?!  I didn’t care about keeping the room the same way it was before. I only cared about finding the money before HE found me.

I was about to give up when I furiously kicked at what looked like a pile of dirty clothes.  I put a hand over my mouth to keep from yelling as I felt my heart pound in my left leg. So HE keeps his room so messy for a reason?  Shaking the unbearable pain I began to ravel what lay underneath that smelly pile dirty of clothes; as I did, I couldn’t help but notice that some of the clothes had blood on them; my blood.

There, lying so peaceful was a small metal safe; I got down to my knees and tried to open it but soon discovered it was locked, with a combination lock so the tile from the couch would be no help here. I tried the last numbers on his cell, the alarm combination, the house number, his account password, his birthday; nothing worked. It’s weird to know I know all of that.

Nearly giving up for the million’s time today, I looked to my left and saw her again, her photo, staring, smiling at me. I punched in her birthday date; it worked. Shocked and impressed by my work, I opened the tiny metal door slowly, afraid I won’t find what I’m looking for inside. I let go of the door, feeling sick to my stomach. There lay next to my pile of money, a Walther PK380, a gun.

In shock I let myself fall back as I thanked god for not letting him find me last night. I had no idea HE had a gun.

I had to hide the gun, at least for a while, until I’m out of this town and onto the next.  I picked it up, with my backpack still on my back, as if it were a ticking bomb. Trying not to shake so much I got up on my feet and went out through the door.  I headed towards the backdoor and opened it, being as careful as one can be. If it were a bomb the FBI would have handled it less carefully.

I looked around, searching for a good hiding place that HE will never even think about. And right there, in the corner of the untreated garden, stood a half broken blue vase. I remember that vase. That vase was the vase that used to stand on the dining table every morning with colourful freshly cut flowers from the green garden. But now it is broken and empty like my heart and I feel the hate fill me up again. I thought he left that vase behind in our home, with all the other things SHE owned.

Just as I’m about to punch the brick wall, or shoot at it, I heard the sound of his car parking back into the driveway. The light out here was dim but HE won’t have a problem seeing me in this open area, even though he is probably wasted.

I heard the front door open and with him came in a girl probably not much older than me. I heard her giggle politely. I froze.  I heard more footsteps and giggles and then him throwing the girl onto the dented couch. I was about to start to leave when I heard HIM scream.

“Where are ya?!” HE began to shout.

“What’s wrong?” That was the girl. She sounded worried, scared, even a little freaked out. I felt sorry for her, her voice sounded childish.

More angry footsteps.

 “You were in ma’ room?!” oh no, I forgot to close the door to his room.

“Who were?” the girl asked silently.

“What ya steal?!” HE was furious.

“Who are you talking to?”

“SHUT UP!” She silenced. I felt her fear crawl inside of her, telling her to run.

I was stuck in my place unable to move. Sweat dripped from my face. But my body was shaking and I couldn’t help it. I was unaware of my body, unaware of my hands, I let go of the gun. By the time I have realised what I have just done, it was too late.

The gun hit the ground with the sound of a gunshot, in shock, I stood still. His stomps came closer and louder by the second and I knew I had to get out now! But I just couldn’t move, I was stuck in place with fear, anger and all the above. That’s when I saw his face, through the open door, glaring at me with those hateful eyes that once used to love me.

I couldn’t feel my feet but somehow I was moving and fast. I was outside the garden door when I heard him yell, “You stole ma’ gun?!” I didn’t look back and I just ran. I heard the gun fire behind me when suddenly I fell into the muddy grass. “I got ya now brat!!” 

I got up. My foot was aching badly but I just pushed it out of my mind. I looked back. Big mistake, HE was running after me now with one hand forward, like superman, only holding a gun and drunk like hell. However, he was still getting closer even though he wasn’t running fast. I felt the fear kick in the adrenaline and found myself running like I never ran before, as if the world could stop at my feet.

I heard a thump and then a wild gun shoot. I felt something warm dripping down my arm. But I continued to run and run fast even when I heard him shout, “This isn’t over kid, ya’re dead!!” I felt my sore leg pound with each heart beat and my lungs burned like I was living on the sun. I saw blood on my hand but I didn’t stop, not yet, a little more.

 I ran with no purpose even when I stopped hearing his footsteps behind me. I had nowhere to go, but I kept running until I couldn’t anymore, letting the cold air fill me up and beat me down again.