[Please tell me what you think of this little bit of writing I did. I feel like it's either a bit too much, or missing something. If it bothers you that it's single spaced, you can copy and paste it].
Prologue
My head was screaming at me to just forget the people that were now in my past, when my heart was whispering, don’t.
I ignored the sadness gripping inside my chest like a python. It worked it’s way up to my throat so that I could choke on my own tears rolling down my face. Blurs of faces passed by each second. My legs were lasting longer than I thought they would. I assumed that they adapted by now to the rhythm of my run. Each time my foot hit the ground, blood pumped up into my legs working as a motor.
Green, red, and amber lights of the city guided me through the night, and through my stupor of racing thoughts. I needed to avoid colliding into other people sharing the sidewalk, and some saw how upset I was, and got out of the way. I hoped it wasn’t too obvious to them what I was doing; an angry teenage girl in eyeliner, tearing through south Cicero avenue… with a black JanSport strapped to her back.
Only one reason to explain that image.
The end of the sidewalk was approaching me, and I needed to breathe or I’d suffocate on my own emotions before lack of air would.
I slowed down to a walk and came up to a pole at the street corner that belonged to a stoplight, exhaustion finally catching up with me. Now my conscience was setting in. It flooded my head with too many things at once for me to want to listen: what are you doing? You’re stupid. This won’t prove anything. You’re in way over your head.
I pressed my shoulder blade along the stoplight pole for support. Cool metal penetrated through my shirt, which made my spine stiffen up with surprise.
I should have put on a coat.
If only I could have turned off my brain, I would have felt ten times better. It was teasing me with the things that I had just left behind, which was a place that provided a roof over my head, and a warm bed. It was all I wanted.
I was seriously beginning to have second thoughts about what I was doing. I had to learn to think before I acted.
Instead of leaving them, I should have just called the police on them. Or that social worker lady, or something.
As air went in and out of my lungs, my eyes wandered about the streets, watching people on the other side saunter down the sidewalk. A cab trailed on by right in front of me. My breath was catching up with me again, and I was beginning to feel a bit more at ease. I lolled my head back against the pole, staring off into space. I glimpsed up at the night sky, allowing my thoughts to sink in one at a time. A few specks of stars stared right back at me.
What were Mom and Dad going to do once they found out I was gone?
The very thought made me turn my head in the opposite direction, where I had left them behind.
They’d probably just wait until I came to my senses again. I couldn’t think of anything else they’d do. Dad would never call the cops after me, considering there was an unlicensed weapon in his closet, and he’s had way too many incidents beforehand with them.
They were the last people he’d want to see.
Where on the other hand, I could picture Mom clutching my note in her hand, and sobbing in a corner like she usually does. She always has Dad decide what we’re going to do, or what we’re not going to do.
Then there would probably be another fight between them, where my dad would just yell at her that her sniveling is pointless, since I had said that I wouldn’t be coming back. Then Mom would cry even harder about how she didn’t see any of the warning signs she had read about in the parenting books.
Thankfully, I wouldn’t be there for that one.
My chest rose and fell, still heavy with sadness. I was there at that stoplight pole for quite a while. I had already gotten my breath back, but I just stood there to wallow in my grief. Or at least look like I was busy waiting for someone, which didn’t look very convincing.
A light gust of spring breeze came up through the street, which felt kind of nice since my cheeks were wet.
Down the sidewalk, two dark-skinned men with their hands in their hoodie pockets came walking in my direction, heads watching the ground. One of them glanced up and made direct eye contact with me, probing a suspicious stare.
I turned away, but I could still feel his hot eyes on me.
He finally went back to watching the ground, and I ignored the two as they shuffled by.
I could have gotten shot out here, or something. Or worse, since I was a young woman.
My heart beat was slowing to normal, but I still stayed put. I was standing in the middle of the United States murder capitol, without any adult supervision, and without any idea where I was going to go.
Why did I have a feeling I was going to make the seven o’ clock news tomorrow morning?
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