Running away

A Story by Ksummera

I'm numb. I feel nothing-- I have no feelings. Maybe that's why I'm doing this. Reading my card mber over the phone-- having $800 taken out for a one way flight to Mexico. The first place that showed up on my search for "somewhere warm". I've been cold too long. I want the sun to sit on my skin again. I want to feel myself baking in the warmth. I want to feel happiness again.

I just turned 18. My family has no idea what I'm doing. They will never expect it. A straight a student, Varsity athlete and school involved. Never would they expect their quietest child to leave. I keep myself from feeling. I can't think of my mom or her tears. I can't think of my dad punching a wall instead of breaking down. I do everything as if I'm automated. Don't think. Just do. "Transaction completed" I hear. And that's the beginning to a possible end.

I throw my s**t in a bag. Frantically grabbing shorts and. Tshirts. In 2 hours I'm out of here. I'll be gone. And I'm not letting anyone know where I'm going. I'm not scared. I'm not excited. I'm just breathing, doing the bare minimum to survive. I'm tired of pretending, and im tired of acting. I'm leaving and I just can't find it in me to care.

Carefully I plave my passport and boarding pass in my carry on. This is it. After this no going back. Good thing I'm done with kansas city.

100 on the highway. I can't slow down, anything less makes me feel numb again. I need my adrenaline to pump, I need to know I'm still alive. Cars blur past my window, and up ahead I see the airport, planes are flying over me and I drown myself in the sound of their engines.

Entering the airport parking lot I park my car in the furthest lot. I don't care to walk, I never did, it's just another way to waste time in my life. The air is thick with the smell of rain and dark thunder clouds roll overhead threatening to release a turenthal down poor any second. I egg on the clouds in my mind, do it, do it, soak me -try to drown me. It's too late though, you see, I already let myself get suffocated, I already drowned.

Inside I receive no looks from anyone, no one expects me to be out of the ordinary. I'm a plain Jane - Brown hair, green eyes, and the face of that girl you just can't remember the name of no matter how hard you try. I lug my shoulder strap bag over my shoulder and stop to wait in the check-in line. Ahead of me is a family of four. Picture perfect. Mom and dad with a little boy and a toddler girl sucking on a lollipop while her mom holds her. I smirk in cyclicalism. One day, one day that girl is going to wake up and realize this world is just a piece of s**t with s****y people. She's going to realize she doesn't matter. One day she'll wake up wondering why she's the only one awake. The family finishes their check-in and heads to the gate that will take them to Florida- the most mundane vacation a family can travel to.

I'm up next, I hand the French worker my bag, she says something but her accent is so thick all I can do is nod. It appeases her and so she tags my bag and throws it onto the converbelt behind her. One more step to freedom.
After two hours of going through security and sitting in plastic chair attached to the wall my flight number is finally called. It was a last minute ticket and so my group to join the plane is the last called. The line to the plane seems to hault before I board. Walking through the connector to the plane I see a Muslim women up ahead is stopped by some squirley security officers with booming voices. Her hair is up in one of those scarfs I never bothered to learn the name of and a worn leather hand bag is hanging at her side. As I come closer to the scene I overhear bits.of the radioactive conversation. Security is trying to check her bag - however she refuses. She calmy explains to them she has done nothing wrong, she has gone through secuity,.and waited in line like everybody else.
The guards won't take no for an answer. And as i pass the scene I glimpse the fat guard who reminds me of a sweaty pig reach out and try to snatch her bag. She doesn't let go but looks up in feightenment. Her eyes connect to mine. I stop for a moment - maybe just in my head or in real life and stare.
We share this moment. Her eyes looking to mine in a plead and the next moment my eyes swipe downwards to avoid her gaze. As i board the plane i dont look back, but i cant avoid the unmistakable sound of a women being yanked to the floor by an overbearing man who vowed to keep peace to our nation. The sight of her eyes- the portals to her soul- staring into mine is on a constant loop the entire flight. I try to forget but I can't. Too late- I realized she was a reflection of me - and I was too coward to help her. Too late for me to save her. Maybe just like me.