Letters From A Stranger |COMPLETE|

Part 6

A gag: is my involuntary response. I use my shirt again to wipe off his saliva and then I turn to Christy, who has never seemed more content. "Man I should've thought about selling you out a long time ago. Shit, well you better be ready. He'll come Friday and you better screw him hard or you're in for it. Go to your room."

My room: filled with scattered school papers. I peek at the drawer and decide to add to the letter before I send it off. I have to get out of here. I'm not going to be taken over by a man twenty years older than me, I won't. I don't care about the consequences anymore. I want out of here. I'll be homeless before I let my body pay the bills.

Wasting paper: I don't plan to do. So instead of trashing the old note, I scribble over the entire thing, and write, Take me away from here. Get me on the corner of Walnut and Oak Dr. I'll be there. Please.

A promise: hard to keep. Still that is my intentions of the letter. I'll be waiting for him there, no matter what. I promise without saying I promise. I need to get away. He's my only escape. I stuff the letter in the mailbox and attempt to sleep that night, but can't at all. I'm in and out of consciousness the entire night. Before I know it, Thursday is here. One more day to endure before I'm free.

Freedom: full of expectations. I'm unsure as to what it will feel like. Will I get a rush by running away? Will my life turn for the better? What will become of me? Perhaps homelessness will be my next state of living. Maybe a shelter will bring me in.

Carson: unexplainable. I have no idea what to expect as far as he goes. Will we have a connection like he mentioned? Or will it all be a total bust? Where will we go? Where will he take me?

Questions: when unanswered, give me extreme anxiety. I don't like surprises. I like facts. I like predictability. This kind of thing freaks me out. I don't know what to think or how to think. One thing is for sure though. I'm leaving this place at 6 Friday night, that is if he keeps his word. I don't want to psych him out and tell him why I'm suddenly so willing to leave. That can be kept a secret.

The school day: slow as always. I'm hurting less which is the only positive. I don't limo as much as I used to. And when I'm rammed into the hallway, I don't wince in pain, convinced my body has been chopped in half. Otherwise, everything else is the same.

My brain: moving too quick for sane thoughts. I think of horrible things. The man's eyes stay with me, haunt me throughout the school day. What's going to happen when I don't show up, when I'm not there to give him what he truly desires? Will he hurt Christy? Will he come after me? I hope the first. I could care less if he did anything to her.

Tomorrow: I predict it will come faster than I expect. The day may pass at a sluggish rate, but everything after, the speed of light. I'm scared. I'm nervous. But I need to be strong, I have to believe I can do this. I've been living a life of torture too long. It's time to go. I'm putting all faith in Carson now.

The night: similar to the previous. Sleep doesn't happen. Christy gets drunk and passes out on the couch. Luckily I didn't have to make dinner. I check the mailbox before I head to bed and I'm disappointed to see no letter. Did he receive my letter? Was the mail behind? What am I going to do if he's not there to rescue me? I'll have to...endure.

The thought: keeps me up all night long. I stare blankly at the ceiling in my bed. I'm afraid to close my eyes. If I sleep, tomorrow will come much sooner than if I wait it out, minute by minute. I don't want it to come.

My eyes: strained and puffy. Morning eventually makes it way. I don't want to get out of bed. I have no reason to move. To do anything. Without Carson, I'll be screwed, in more ways than one. I don't know if I have the patience or the drive to move on. I have. A feeling after tonight, Christy will turn to me for the bills to come. Tonight will be the first of many. And I won't live like that. I've faced enough bullshit and struggle. I can't take on any more of a load. I refuse.