Runaway Pt. 01

If only Josh could pass out. Or finish himself off already. I have to keep my breathing relaxed. Keep my eyes closed. Keep still in this obscene position he's put me. Keep pretending I'm asleep. Ignore the shaking of the bed. Ignore his animalistic grunts. Ignore the sound of those fucking ice cubes, clinging against his empty glass to the rhythm of his jerking motions. I hope he doesn't touch me tonight. I hope he doesn't fuck me tonight. If only he could pass out. Or finish himself off already.

Emily, she won't be a problem. She's dead drunk in the living room. She won't realize my sneaking out. She was so pissed I didn't fight back when she slapped me at dinner. Apparently my breasts are growing too fast, and that makes me a slut, so she figured it would show me if she slapped me. Crazy bitch.

But I didn't react. I usually do because I'm sick of taking shit from her, but I wasn't going to ruin my plan before I even set it in motion. I hoped she'd be satisfied that she landed a hit, and would leave it at that.

I should have known better than to hope for anything. She clawed at me and scratched my left cheek. It bled some, but it won't leave a scar, unlike the time she tried to stab me. Thank fuck she was drunk then, too, and ended up slashing my upper arm instead of actually stabbing me.

Still, the bleeding wouldn't stop, so Josh had to drive me to the hospital. He yelled at me all the way, as if it was my fault she missed or something. I still remember what he said. "What the fuck are you trying to do? A fucking movie?"

The nurse asked me what happened, but Josh answered. He said I lost balance and hurt myself on a loose nail in the garage. He even wrapped his arms around me and stroked my hair, kissed the top of my head, as if he cared. Fucking hypocrite. Fucking ass hole.

He sure didn't kiss the top of my head the first time he fucked me and he muffled my sobs with his nicotine stained, stinky hand. I think I hate him more than Emily. Emily's just a crazy drunk. Josh is a sick fuck. How on earth did they pass the social services tests I have no fucking idea. I would have been better off living on my own when my parents died, than with those two fuckers.

Two years. Feels like twenty. But tonight's the night it ends.

Emily, she won't be a problem. Josh may be though. If he doesn't finish himself off soon I'll miss the 5:30 AM train to New York. I have to leave the house at 4:40 AM at the latest to make it in time to the train station, and that's if I pedal as fast as I can.

Maybe I should take Josh's car instead of my bike. What's one more stolen item? I already took Emily's jewels from her box and all the cash from her wallet before going to bed. She'd just finished her shift at the restaurant and had a little more than 400 in cash in there. Her tips, I guess, though I don't really care where it came from. It's mine now.

No. Taking his car would be dumb. He'd report it stolen and they'd find me.

I need to know what time it is, but I don't want to look at my alarm clock on the bedside table. I don't want him to know I'm awake. If he knows I'm awake, he's going to fuck me for sure. Last thing I want. Rather wait another day to leave than to feel him on top of me again. Inside me... Cold sweats. Shit I think I'm gonna be sick.

Breathe...

It was 3:27 AM when he came in my room. I peeked the second I heard the doorknob turn. How long has it been? An hour? How long can a drunk stay hard for fuck's sake?

The bed stopped jiggling. This could go either way; either he's about to fuck me, either he's finally passed out. Don't touch me; don't touch me; don't fucking touch me.

Josh's breathing is deep and even. Looks like tonight really is the night it all ends. My heart is beating so hard, so fast I hope it doesn't wake him up. My hands are shaking. He's still not moving.

My t-shirt is all the way up to my chest and I have no idea where my panties are. Fuck it; I'll just pull the shirt down and put some pants on once I'm a few blocks away. Not spending more time than necessary inside this Hell hole. I can ride my bike a few blocks panty-less. Wasn't part of the plan but I don't care.

My back pack is nestled against my desk, right next to the door, ready to be picked up on my way out of the room. Ballerinas are tucked under the bag; I can slip them on while I open the door.

All that will be left to do is sneak across the kitchen, unlock the back door as quietly as I can, get my bike, walk it out of the carport, get the fuck out of here and never come back.

I emptied my bank account yesterday. That, plus the cash I took from Emily's wallet earlier, means I have enough cash to live off of for a month, maybe 2, if I find a cheap room and eat as little as possible.

Emily's jewels should buy me a few more weeks. I think the coral cameo is an actual antique though, so I won't pawn it right away. I'll hold on to it until I can get it appraised. I stashed mom's pearls in my bag. I'm not selling these. Ever.

All my IDs are in the back pack, ready to be burnt when I make it to New York. I'll make enough cash there to buy a new identity. At least, I hope I will. I'm sure there are way more sick fucks in New York than in Nowhere Town, Missouri, so my underage ass is going to make me a whole lot of money. That's the plan, anyway.

One last recap before I actually set the plan in motion. I don't want the plan to fail. If the plan fails and Josh catches me sneaking out, I'm in for worse than an unwelcomed fuck. My heart is thumping so hard it makes me wanna puke. Deep breaths.

Last recap, then a sneak peek at the clock, and if it's anywhere before 4:45, I'm out of here.

One: Get out of bed without waking Josh up.

Two: Grab the bag; slip on shoes; open the door.

Three: Sneak out, across the kitchen, unlock the backdoor.

Four: Walk the bike out of the garage.

Five: Pedal the fuck away from here. Put some pants on when I reach the highway. Get to the train station ASAP. Weather guys said it would rain tonight; I don't give a shit. They're always wrong anyway.

Six: Abandon the bike. Buy a one way ticket to New York from the machine. Pay cash.

Seven: Board the train, wait a few hours, get in a bathroom, cut my shoulder length hair into whatever isn't shoulder length hair. Bleach the fuck out of it. I don't want to change my hair colour; I like my natural dark brown, but I have to change it. If Emily and Josh report me missing, they'll be looking for a brown haired girl with shoulder length hair, not a blonde with a short do.

Eight: Find a pawn shop to get cash for the jewels.

Nine: Find a cheap place to stay. Worse comes to worse, I'll get a hotel room for a few days. I can seek a youth shelter, but I am not crazy about that idea; what if whoever's in charge there is an ass and calls the cops on me? Then I'd be back here, and Hell would be deliverance compared to what Josh would do to me then.

Okay, opening my eyes now.

4:23.

Let's go.

Sick fuck is sleeping. His disgusting robe opened. His deflated penis still in one hand, his empty tall glass in the other. I wish I could spit on him. Or bite off that tiny worm he likes to wank while watching me. Rip off his balls and shove them down his throat.

I do nothing of the sort of course. Where would that lead? Not very practical. Leaving quietly is more practical.

I roll out of bed as slowly as possible. He doesn't even stir. I feel light headed and nauseous. Shit I hope I won't be sick. There'll be plenty of time to be sick on the train.

My bag was heavy when I packed it earlier. Now it seems it weighs nothing as I pick it up. I turn the door knob slowly, keep an ear out for Josh. Put on my shoes. The only sound coming from the sick fuck is his breathing. I wish he'd vomit, and then choke on it.

The door opens silently. Thank fuck; a creaking door would have sucked.

I can't believe I'm actually leaving this place. Finally. Tip toe across the kitchen floor. Leather soles for the win; no sound at all as I pad on the cheap wood imitation linoleum. I am so never having cheap wood imitation linoleum in my home.

The lock is the most likely to be noisy. It's one of those big ass locks that turn abruptly whether you unlock slowly or not. Still, I turn the handle slowly.

Sharp clunk. I listen for noises in my bedroom; nothing. Emily is way over in the living room; there's no way she heard that.

I never noticed how much noise breathing makes; my own breath is echoing too loudly. I hold it as I open the back door just a sliver, just enough so I can get out.

On the lanai. Pants and panty less; I don't give a fuck. Nobody's up at 4:30 in the morning. Nobody nosy enough to care, that is. Freaks who are awake this time of night are bright enough to not be concerned about other people's business.

The back door closes easily. It'll stay unlocked until the morning. I'm not locking it behind me. I didn't even pack my keys anyway.

My black Electra Townie isn't secured. Wasn't going to waste two minutes to unlock a stupid padlock. I walk it out to the sidewalk.

A few minutes to freedom. My legs are shaking like crazy; will I be able to pedal? I mount up, the cold leather feels icky on my pussy. Whatever, I don't care. I just go.

Weather guys were right. It's raining. Faintly, more like a wet mist really. Still, I shiver, but I suck it up until I reach the highway.

The further and further I get from Hell House, the lighter I feel. The faster I pedal. I make it to the highway in record time. I can even slow down a bit and I'll make the train.

I stop, though, before actually engaging the highway. I need to put on some pants. I pull out a pair of jeans and a sweater, slip those on and keep going.

This nausea isn't going anywhere. Bah; as long as I don't need to stop, I'll be fine.

I stay on the highway all the way. I can't believe I'm doing it. I'm grinning like an idiot I just know it. I hit cruise speed and space out while the wet mist keeps the nausea under control.

If I'm lucky, I'll be in New York before Emily and Josh even wake up. Lazy, the both of them; Emily works part time and her shifts start at noon. Josh is some sort of corporate drone who arrives late 3 days a week. Guess what: I don't give a fuck anymore! I laugh to myself as I take a left.

Dawn is upon me, and I am completely soaked and out of breath as I pedal. Everything is so peaceful early in the morning. A few rebel seagulls disturb the meditative shower noises the rain makes. The sky is indigo and bright orange, mirrored in the river. I love dawn. Guess that'll be my name for a while.

5:10. I made it! I shiver as I punch in my choices on the automatic ticket dispenser. I think I'll change sweaters before getting on the train. I choose economy; someday I'll travel first class or have a private jet, but not now. Now I need every penny.

Ticket in hand, I head over to the bathroom. The train station is more crowded than I expected. I was pretty sure I'd be alone this early on. A few stalls in the bathroom are occupied. I get in one of the empty ones and remove the wet sweater. I'll hang it on a seat on the train. Can't go around wasting clothes; God knows when I'll be able to buy some more.

I bump into some guy on my way out. I don't even look at him as I apologize, keeping my eyes cast down, just so he doesn't get a look at my face. The stupid scratch Emily did earlier could look suspicious.

I buy oatmeal cookies and a cranberry juice from the vending machine. Poor nutritional value, but a better choice than a bag of chips and a soda. Will I have the luxury of choosing what I eat for long? Where will I be in 3 months?

Doubts fill me for a second. Should I have stayed? I could have waited. Finish high school. Now I'll have to do it on line or in night school or something. If I even get to finish. Shit. I didn't think of that part of the plan.

Too late now. I'd rather finish high school later than go back to Josh. Now he'll be pissed I tried to run away. He never hit my face before, but I don't want to risk it. I'm pretty; I want to stay that way.

I sigh as I get in the train, my wet sweater heavy and clammy on my arm. Yeah I should have thought about after the plan. I should have planned more. I didn't look far enough ahead. Fuck me.

Ha! At least I'll be the one deciding when the fucking occurs now, not Josh.

Once my sweater is arranged on the seat next to me, I lace the straps of my bag around my ankles and tie the bag to me. That's all I have now; no way is some fucker taking it while I sleep. I cross my arms and close my eyes but I'm too anxious to sleep, my ears are buzzing like crazy for some reason, and although I am hungry, I am also nauseous again.

The thought of being pregnant freezes my blood. Sick fuck never uses a condom. But I can't be pregnant. The pill is 99.9% effective. It would suck huge ass balls to be that unlucky.