The Runaway

It was my first time on my own. For years, I dreamt of the day that I would leave the torments of the devilish man that I called “father.” I no longer would withstand the fear of waking up in the middle of the night with the tall dark figure that reeked of stale newports and homemade moonshine standing over me, forcing his way into my bed. No longer would I have to tune out the shrill shrieks and horrific thuds coming from my mother’s room almost every night. Except for that last night. The night that the loud BANG rang in my ears for what seemed like hours. I don’t remember much after the sound. Somehow my body had a mind of its own and was frantically packing all of my belongings into my pink worn out duffel bag that I had since sixth grade. I was out of my window, heading towards the woods behind the house before I finally realized what had happened. I realized that I was free,… or at least I thought.

Within the two years of walking into those woods I’ve managed to make my way out of the dying small town in south Alabama into the more thriving city of Atlanta, Georgia. Truckers did not mind picking up a seventeen year old girl on the side of the road if that meant getting lucky with good company and an even more pleasurable pit stop. At each stop, I would pretend to run to the ladies room to freshen up before running out of the back exit and down the street to hitch my next ride. I almost did not get away easy from my last Uber trucker. He was intent on following me into the restroom, so I had the cashier call the police to save me from “my stalker.” Before the police could arrive, I hid in the manager’s office and climbed through the window into an open field and ran until I couldn’t run anymore. Exhausted and shaking from the lack of nutrition, I walked into a Dina’s Diner, hoping to bum another meal.

Dina’s Diner turned out to be an answered prayer. As soon as I slid into the faded red booth, a middle aged heavyset blonde lady carrying a pitcher of lukewarm coffee introduced herself to me as Samantha. She offered me coffee and said that if I wanted to order food, it would be a thirty minute wait because two of her cooks walked out mid-shift the day before.

“I can cook,” I whispered without thinking things through.

Samantha paused to study my expression and said with a straight face, “you know how to scrambled eggs?”

I shook my head up and down not sure if I would be able to handle cooking anything more than scrambled eggs since my mother did all of the cooking back home.

“Alright,” Samantha said without hesitation. “Follow me.”

On my nineteenth birthday, a couple of friends and I left Dina’s Diner around ten that night to go party with a group of college boys. My friends and I became close while working at the diner. We all had similar backgrounds and knew that college would never be an option for us. When the boys came into the diner that day and invited us to their party, we were so shocked to have even caught their attention. There was no better way to celebrate another year of my freedom. We could not wait to gather at Jill’s house to exchange each other’s clothes for the best outfits. The party was the typical college scene. Girls half dressed pranced and giggled around the large room in the frat house while the guys gawked and patted each other on the backs. The room was filled with the smell of beer, sweat, and weed smoke. Jill, Francine, and I took no time getting obliterated, throwing back cup after cup of beer and sometimes vodka-crans.

It was the first time that I finally felt normal. I was on my own. I was dancing, and drinking with people my own age! Life was finally looking better for me. As the room swirled in circles I thought to myself, “I would make a new life for myself.” I laughed and stumbled my way towards the bathroom to break the seal. I concentrated on focusing my eyes when suddenly a familiar face appeared in the crowd. I jumped back! Startled, I tried harder to make the room stop spinning to focus on the older man sitting in the corner admiring all of the girls dancing. I let a silent gasp as my vodka-cran hit the floor.

Eyes wide, I turned away hoping that the man in the corner did not see me. His face, with a long irregularly shaped scar on his right cheek, burned into my head. This could not be happening. Was it really him? He still had the low cut brown hair that had started to recede maybe four years ago. The dark blue denim jacket did have a hole on the left arm sleeve where he put out a cigarette while trying to impress some ladies outside of the supermarket one time. I took another quick glance in the man’s direction for confirmation. Fear ran down my spine as I locked eyes with my father.

I watched the realization spread across my father’s face as he jumped up from his seat in the corner. I turned to push my way through the crowd as he started for me. Now I remember why I never drunk more than two cups of alcohol. My chest began to burn as the poisonous beverages threatened to come back through my mouth. I lunged for the door and threw myself into the bushes, giving up everything that I had to drink and eat during the day. Ignoring the laughters and stares, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and headed towards the parking lot, desperate to get out of sight to call an Uber.

I hid in between two pickup trucks and glanced over my shoulder to be sure I wasn’t being followed. There were only a few people in the parking lot a few cars down but no one could see me in the shadows of the night. In disbelief, I crouched down and began to cry, forcing myself to see clearly through the tears and drunk eyes to unlock my phone. How did he find me? Why would he be at a college party all the way in Atlanta?! For a second I thought maybe my drink was spiked and I was having a bad trip, but then I heard his voice.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding?” He stepped around the truck and in the moonlight I could see his hand rub over the scar on his right cheek. He let out a chuckle.

“Here I am, on a vacation with my new girlfriend… she’s about your age. You should meet her sometime. Then I have the pleasure of bumping into you,” my father said with that creepy grin he always wore when he was in one of his violent moods.

I inched away slowly, looking for an escape but realized that I was trapped between the two trucks and the 8 foot brick wall behind me that separated the frat house from the main campus. My father continued, “You know, when you shot me in the face I thought I was a goner!” He let out a devious laugh and made a few steps towards me. “Your mom finally worked up the courage to runaway too after she told the police that I was drunk and did this to myself while cleaning my gun.” He put his hand on his hips. “And can you believe that them son-of-a-guns believed her too! Said you were considered an adult so ain’t no use of looking for a runaway seventeen year old girl.”

Finally getting the wind to speak I yelled for help. “HEEEEELP,” I screamed in familiar terror. He lunged at me, grabbed me into a tight hug and slapped his heavy hand across my mouth. “No no no, girl! SHUT UP!” He shouted into my ear. “No one can hear you over that loud music anyway.”

I trembled as I stared my father right into his soulless eyes. “Let me go!” I tried to yell and kicked him in his left shin. He winced in pain and threw me onto the hard pavement bumping my head on one of the pickup trucks.

“All I wanted to do was talk, but you always were a fighter,” he said in a rage. He climbed on top of me and began to choke me with his massive hands. “You should have killed me when you had the chance little girl!” His grip became tighter and tighter as I felt myself slipping away. I was so tired and weak. My mind was telling me to just let go. Just give into this monster that made my life living hell. That’s when I spotted it. A heavy rock the size of a baby watermelon with jagged edges rested against the brick wall. I reached for it, willing myself to fight a little hard. I grabbed the heavy rock and swung it against my fathers head. I gasped for air as his grip released and my father tumbled over clutching his forehead, screaming in agony. “Owww, You bitch,” he screamed. Catching my breath, I grabbed the rock again and stood over his hunched body.

“Hey Father,” I said with such content. “The only thing I regret in life is not killing you when I had the chance.” I raised the rock high above my head and smashed it down over his left temple. Again, and again, and again, until blue and red lights danced in the shadows behind me.