7 am

A story about an old man and a teenage girl who runs away from home. Wrote it for school in 3 hours, but i kind of like it :)

7 am

5 am. Charlie’s alarm sounded. The buzzing sound echoed throughout the walls of his two story house. He lifted his frail head from the warmth of his covers and stared up at the ceiling. The white had turned grey with age. He tapped the alarm and crawled out from the bed monotonously. Dragging his feet across the cold tile, he made his way to the bathroom. He splashed some cool water on his face, enjoying the momentary cool sensation. He opened his eyes slowly and stood staring at himself in the mirror. His grey t-shirt hung loosely from his gaunt stomach, and his boxers were far to big for his fragile legs. His skin was papery and pale, almost as dull as his house. And his eyes. Oh his eyes. What used to be a vast ocean blue was drained completely, replaced by dull, grey storm clouds. All liveliness washed away. The glassy cover made them unfocused and hazy. With a deep sigh, he trudged down to the kitchen. 

It was still dark outside, the winds of fall were picking up, carrying dry leaves with them. From the window he could see his bench in the park. Covered with weeds and twigs. The path to it was faded and matted in sand. He glanced around his kitchen, taking in the white walls and furniture. A picture of a young girl clung by a magnet on the fridge. Along the walls were more pictures of her. Being cradled in her father’s arms, riding a bike for the first time, learning to swim. He briefly took notice of them, but just as quickly turned away. Lethargically, he slung on his frayed coat and slipped on some sneakers. The front door opened with a squeak, as bitter winds stung his exposed skin. 

Everything was just as it was yesterday. The trees were bare as their leaves lay sprawled on the floor. With every step, Charlie heard a crunch beneath his feet. The trail was scattered with twigs, but something was different as Charlie looked up. Very different. On his bench sat a girl…no, a teenager. She sat still, huddled in a ball with her knees covering her face. Her legs were covered with torn up fishnet stockings, and a small, jean mini skirt with tattered edges. She wore a tiny red shirt, showing her anorexic stomach. Her ribs were poking out through to holes in her shirt. Red, tangled hair frizzed in a long side braid. Charlie was startled, he had never seen anybody on this trail, let alone on his bench. As he neared closer, the girl looked up with shock. Charlie couldn’t help but gasp. Smeared mascara ran down her porcelain face, her eyes were red with irritation, but that  was not what caught Charlie off guard. Her eyes shot into him like daggers. Rusty orange surrounded her ebony pupil. Spreading into a deep emerald green. Charlie couldn’t help but think of think of the sunflowers he used to pick. He pictured the warm, summer meadow that used to sit only a few yards away, the little girl from the pictures running freely beside him. Her eyes looked exactly like a sunflower, deep black surrounded by bright, yellow-orange petals, sitting brightly in a field of dark green. Charlie awoke from his day dream to find the teenager still glaring at him. He tip-toed over to the bench where she sat. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but it didn’t help much, as they were replaced by fresh ones quickly. “Don’t even ask old man.” she grumbled. Charlie waved her insult away quickly.

“Wasn’t going to.” She relaxed at this, but kept glancing at Charlie. He tried to ignore it, but finally had to look back. “Want to talk about it?” She stared at him for a while, deciding whether or not to trust him. “I’m Charlie.” he stated. 

“Roxanne …and it’s my mom,” she mumbled. “She won’t stop treating me like I’m five. We got in a big blow out a couple days back, and I haven’t seen her since.” Charlie took this in for a minute.

“So you ran away?”

“Well, yeah…”

“What’s the last thing you said to her?”

“Excuse me?”

“During the fight, what was the last thing you said to her?” Roxanne had think. After all the shattered plates and broken windows, the rest was a blur. 

“I guess it was I hate you…” 

6:30 am. Charlie sighed deeply and stared out into the park. Squirrels skipped innocently from tree to tree. Birds chirped soothing melodies. The sky began turning a deep blue, not yet fully bright. Roxanne cleared her throat, trying to get Charlie’s attention. “Why did you say  that?” he asked.

“Cause I hate her!”

“No you don’t.” Roxanne started to protest, but Charlie shook his head and offered her his coat, which she accepted gratefully. “You don’t hate her. You never could. No matter how what she said to you, you could never hate her. What is your best memory from when you were younger?” 

“When she used to push me down the slide.” Roxanne stated. The corners of her mouth turned upwards into a slight smile. Charlie watched as her eyes lit up for a moment.

“She is still that lady that pushed you down the slide. Still the one that taught you how to ride a bike.” He imagined the picture of the little girl on his dresser, smiling proudly as she pedaled along the sidewalk. “If you loved her then, you love her know. That’s all there is to it.” Roxanne stood still in thought. Charlie reached for his wallet. Inside was a picture of the same girl. He ripped open a carefully threaded, secret compartment. Roxanne watched intently as he pulled out a thin, weathered piece of newspaper. The clipping showed a teenage girl with heavy eyeliner and pink hair, the title above it read, “TEENAGE GIRL KILLED IN CAR ACCIDENT.” Roxanne shuddered as she read the rest of the article. Her parents weren’t notified until a week later, she was in New York at the time of the crash, she had run away from home. “Words never go away. You can never take back what you say. You can always try and make up for them though. You never know when what you say, could be the last thing you will ever say. Do me a favor, and makeup with your Mom.” She kept reading the clipping, “Parents Charlie and Wilona Reed were devastated.” 

“Wait, this was your… daughter?” She looked around only to find an empty seat next to her.

7 am. The sun began to rise. The park was lit with a hushed, golden glow. Roxanne’s eyes shimmered in the light, dead set on the blinding sun. She picked up the phone resting in the booth on the side of the bench and dialed a number she had known by heart for years. “Mom…you there?”

~

Author's Note

Any critiques are welcome :) And how was the ending? Do you think her mom was there, or was it to late? The ending is up to the reader :)