Elsie Taylor knew nothing more than the life that involved the constant moving around. She had always thought that it was normal to not have a place to call home, as she was too young to understand what was really going on.
"I knew nothing more tha...
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| Elsie Taylor |
Quickly lacing my converse up, I was grabbing my jacket, swinging it over my arms but not bothering to fully over it over my shoulders, while I rushed out of my tiny room, grabbing my backpack on the way. I could hear my father's footsteps nearing, so I had to be down by the truck as soon as I possibly could.
We had been staying in this small motel for the past week now, and I guess it was time to continue driving. I had grown up on the roads, not knowing any different. This was just the way that my life rolled.
I stood beside the truck, rocking back and forth on the heels of my feet, waiting patiently for my father to come out of the apartment. It was a ground floor one, so I had just slipped out of the door, like I usually did. "Hey Sweetie" a dark voice chuckled as I flinched away from him, making me clutch my bag even tighter to my front.
I hated him. He always appeared whenever I was at my most vulnerable, scaring the shit out of me. I hated it. I just nodded, knowing that I wasn't allowed to speak without my father by my side. I had seen every other little girl speak their minds and do whatever they pleased, but, me, no, my father would never allow that to happen.
I didn't care one bit. "Still not talking" he reached forward to brush his fingers through my messy hair, but I stepped back. I hated it when he touched me, so I avoided it at all cost. My father had drilled it into me, that this man in front of me, could most definitely never touch me. That we were just using him for his money, meaning he had no right to do anything with me.
I never understood what he was going on about, but I knew that whatever he was saying, was meant to keep me safe. "Ah Hayden" I knew by the way that this man had said my father's name was that he was trying to show to my father that he wasn't trying to do anything to me, like he always did. "Knock it off, John" my father muttered, smiling a tight lipped smile at me.
My dad was a good dad, to me at least. He was my favorite person in the world. He was one of the only people that I knew had kept me safe for this long. Just sometimes, he would get mad when I asked certain questions, and then he would drink for a solid two days, before he was back to the dad that I had known all along.
He had never done any harm to me, only maybe when he was really angry that one time, he threw an empty beer bottle at me, but I knew that he didn't mean it. He had apologized and hugged me for hours on end, as we sat on a porch at the place that we had been staying, and rocked me to sleep on the rocking chair.
Once I got the nod of approval from my father, I jumped into the back of the truck, that I had always made sure to keep it clean, because it was only ever me in the back here. Dad had made sure of that, that this was my special spot.
I pushed my bag to one side, as I reached down into the compartment below the seat, where I grabbed out my pillow, and propped it up against my bag, before reaching down once again. I grabbed my favorite, special blanket, as I got myself ready for the drive ahead of us. I never got in the truck without knowing that I had set myself up with my favorite blanket and pillow.
