Taken • cth

one | the first night

Arrow's fingers shake as she scrambles to get the zipper to work, yanking it over the black fabric with more effort than necessary. The moonlight from the window illuminates her room, shining bits upon her bedspread as she picks up the items on it and shoves them into the duffel bag. It's half past midnight, and she can't breathe.

She's trying to be as quiet as she can, because she knows even the slightest sound will wake her stepfather. Arrow can still feel his hands on her. She still feels filthy, like there's dirt caked into every inch of her pale skin, even thought she spent over two hours in the shower not so long ago. She never thought it would come to this, but it has.

A toothbrush, two tubes of toothpaste, a hairbrush and some scissors. One by one they go into the dark bag, on top of the entirety of her t-shirt and pants drawers. There's also a kitchen knife (for defense reasons) and extra shoes, socks and underwear stuffed into the bottom corner. She doesn't own many bras, but the ones she does have are tightly packed with her other clothes. Arrow grabs her mother's old makeup set, stolen from the attic as soon as the lights went off in her bedroom. She stares at it for a moment, before shoving it in with the rest of the stuff. That will be used later.

The wad of twenties the girl snatched from her stepfather's wallet are now in the right pocket of the travel bag, easily accessible but not obviously seen. Her journal is also in it, along with several pens. She can't live without it. Arrow glances at her phone where it lays on her pillow, swallowing hard. She didn't text any of her friends. She didn't text anyone. Nobody can know she's doing this. If she's going to run away, she's damn well going to do it right. Sob-story goodbyes and teary monologues just don't fit into the picture.

After double checking everything and making sure she doesn't need anything else, Arrow gives herself one last once-over. She's wearing the darkest pair of jeans she owns, black worn out converse, a black hoodie and a black beanie. The dark outfit is purely for convenience and safety, because it's harder for people to see her at night than if she were to be wearing a neon t-shirt.

Swallowing down her anxiety, Arrow throws the bag over her shoulder and lets her eyes scan the room for the last time. Nothing seems to be out of place, (she made sure to leave no evidence), so she walks over to her previously opened window and slowly climbs out.

The second her feet hit the ground, a tremendous sigh of relief leaves Arrow's lips as the night breeze tickles her skin. She presses her ear to the glass and listens, briefly, shutting the window when she concludes that her 'parents' are still asleep. There is no turning back now.

Before she can overthink it, Arrow turns around and takes off towards the woods line. She's always lived in this small yet busy little neighborhood, and there's been a rather large forest on the right side of it for as long as she can remember. She can recall playing in it as a little kid, before her father left and her mom fell completely over the edge. She may have even had a tree house at some point.

When she gets to the small groove of dirt that forms a path along the edge of the trees, Arrow slows to a walking pace and puts her head down. To her calculations, the nearest good train station is a few hours of walking away, give or take a few. She'll buy the farthest ticket possible, get the hell out of this town, and go from there. Thought she's only had 14 short, shitty years of life, Arrow is sure this will be the biggest decision she will ever make.

The cool night air makes Carbonado seem a little bit more creepy than usual, and the girl isn't surprised when that familiar feeling of dread washes over her. Don't turn around. She thinks to herself, swallowing hard as she turns the corner onto one of the main streets. Just don't turn around.