13.

 

The next thing I know, we’re running. Running, and running, and running. I don’t even know where we’re going, but I just know that my left foot goes first, and then my right.

My bare feet smacking the dry pavement are a constant reminder of all the pain I never felt, that Bethany took for me. I don’t know how she can do that, but she does. Each solid smack makes me thing of Dad’s hands making contact with my body, with my spirit.

How could I have not noticed this? Dad… I thought he was fine, for a long time. But…lately, I just have made this…discovery. How could I not notice that my Dad is an alcoholic? How could I not know that he is abusing me? I don’t remember any of that…prior to this week.

Bethany and I are running down the sidewalk, our erratic marathon, just trying to get away from Dad. I don’t know what he’ll do…will he come after me in the car? Will he just sit at home and drink? He can’t get me…he could hurt me. He could really hurt me. I just realize this.

With this realization, I pick up the speed, my mind spinning in a vortex of confusion and a vague loss.

“Come on! We need to find somewhere to go. We have to…keep going.” Bethany urges me breathlessly as we run. She is barefoot too, and I notice we are running together, our feet hitting the ground simultaneously. That makes me feel better, because I’m not alone. I don’t have to be alone when I’m with Bethany.

We run for what seems like forever. I notice the sun is passing through the clouds, slowly making its way through the sky. When it is at the top of the sky I know it is noon, and my stomach reminds me that I hadn’t eaten anything in a very long time. I think of the grocery bags that I saw Dad with. Don’t think about food. The bags were probably bags from the liquor store. Go.

When I notice the sun starting to set, a cool breeze is washing over my aching body. Bethany’s face is dragging, but in her eyes I see courage. We haven’t said a word the whole way here. Here… I don’t know where we are. I look down and see that my feet are covered in dirt and blood. I slow down for a second and look at the bottom of my foot and see that it is dark gray from the pavement and little pieces of gravel are stuck in it. I am not running on sidewalk, anymore. I’m running in wild grass, thick and gracious on my aching feet.

My heart pounds and my body is dripping with sweat. I guess running long distance in track during seventh grade is paying off now. I could always run. My leg muscles are screaming for me to stop but I have to keep going. I feel like there is a magnet attached to my chest pulling me along. My feet pound the grass, but my brain is sleeping.

The golden sun is starting to cast down from the sky, and the beams of purple light are getting very dim. Bethany is right next to me, just as sweaty and dirty as I am. We run some more.

Now, it is dark. I’m running back on sidewalk, and all the houses don’t look familiar. I wonder how much distance we got. We’ve run for a long time, almost all day. We have to be far. I remember I used to be able to pull a seven minute mile.

Now my feet are crunching on hard, painful gravel. My feet are crying out in pain but my mouth smiles. I’m never going back.

“We gotta stop.” Bethany says, and I agree. It’s dark and thick with heat, and I am exhausted. I needed to pee a long time ago, but we couldn’t stop. So now my clothes are dirty too. My clothes are soaked with sweat, and I feel like I have gotten run over by a truck multiple times.

Bethany grasps my sweaty hand, and pulls me with her. Her hand slips because we are so sweaty and then when my eyes adjust to the new darkness of the night, and I can see. We are at a playground. Maybe a school playground or something.

“We’re going to sleep here.” Bethany pants. She crawls into a weird looking tube play set and sighs. “I’ll be in here.” She says, her voice muffled in the night.

My eyes survey the playground. Swing sets, basketball courts, a slide. It’s one of those really long, curvy ones. I lay down on the slide, and when I lay down, there is a crack of lightning and rain comes pouring down, and in an instant I am drenched. I stand, dizzy and sore, and walk over to a tube slide. I crawl into the tube, where the thick green plastic can protect me from the pelting rain.

My eyelids are growing heavy, and my fingers slide down the wall of the slide, going over the rough patches where people have scraped words and pictures into the plastic. My fingers are sliding slowly as my eyelids flutter shut. I breathe deeply, and smile. I am safe.