Abused and cancerous to adopted by matpat

Run away

After dinner I bandaged myself up. Putting bandaids on the bleeding parts of my arms where the glass broke was not how I wanted to spend the night. I climbed into my bed early and spent a solid hour staring at my wall, the pictures. I wish I could meet him...those make-a-wish kids are so lucky, they get to do anything they would like, meet anyone they want. Sure they have a raging disease but at this point I would rather die of cancer than continue life in this house. I have only lived here for five years but it is pretty much demolished. I took a wide look at my room and saw just how far Dad's outbursts have gone. My walls had craters punched in them from his violent tantrums. I turned over to look at the pictures until an idea popped into my head. I quickly changed my alarm to much earlier in the day and laid on my mattress until my eyes shut and my thoughts were replaced by the looming essence of sleep.

(Time skip to the next day)

My phone beeped its alarm at 3:00 in the morning as if to say "wake up (y/n) it's time for another day of torture."I groggily sat up and sneakily tiptoed into my father's closet. I grabbed the plastic card that I was hoping to find and shoved it into my phone case. I dressed myself in a black hoodie and bleached denim jeans. A dark purple beanie covered my head and ears, muffling everything around me. I walked out of the back door and into the pitch-black of the early morning. I headed to a bus stop, not for the school bus but to the city. As it came I fumbled in my phone case for my payment of one dollar and fifty cents. Each stop got farther and farther from my hometown and closer to the city. My head slumped onto the railing next to me and like a trained marine, I fell asleep.

(Fifteen minutes later)

My head slipped off the railing and I jolted up, confused. My second rude awakening of the day, fantastic. I formed my hands into loose fists and rubbed my eyes. I turned my head around and saw rows and rows of tall buildings, illuminated by bright squares. I had made it to the city! I pulled the lever to let the bus driver know that I wanted to get off. The bus stopped with a satisfying hiss. I carefully stepped out of the bus and onto the cigarette-polluted sidewalk. The bus door folded back in and it took off, leaving me alone. I pulled out Google maps and I was three minutes away! I followed the tiny blue arrow on my screen until I reached it. The large white building was standing in front of me: Emerson Hospital.

My Dad worked here for years, before I was born, before the alcohol took over his life. I circled the building until I reached the special entrance for the facility. I nervously took my phone out of the case and removed the plastic card. I inserted the card into a slot on the door and swiped. A promising ding welcomed me to open the door. I turned the silver doorknob and pushed the door inwards. The room was almost as dark as the 4:00 am sky. The room was filled with glass containers of miscellaneous substances. I scanned over the room until my eyes focused on one vial. A shiny metal sign in front of the vial read: cancerous blood cells.

I held it up to the sky like a prize and frantically searched for a syringe. I found two red buckets of syringes, labeled clean and dirty. I grabbed one from the clean bucket and unscrewed the cap to the vial. I placed the needle end of the syringe into the vial and pulled the plunger back all the way. I tapped it to get any air bubbles out and hesitantly stared at my left arm. I eyed the tube of cotton pads with a spray bottle of rubbing alcohol next to it. I picked up a piece of cotton and sprayed it with the bottle. I rubbed my entire arm with the pad and readied the syringe in my right hand. I swiftly stabbed my arm with the needle and pressed down on the plunger. Normally, someone would wince at this but after years of taking punches and having glass thrown at me, I was used to the pain. Dribbles of blood started to run down my arm and I reached into my pocket for a bandaid. I peeled the paper off the bandaid,  tightly stuck it to my arm, and wiped the red stains from my skin.

I checked the time. It was roughly five am, I could make it back with time to spare. I scurried back for the door and went back to the sidewalk. Another bus should come any minute now. The moon was getting lower in the sky and the dark sky was slowly fading into daylight. The horizon had a twinge of dull purple to it and the sun should rise in about an hour. A bus rolled down the road and stopped before my feet. I gave my dollar and fifty cents to the driver and plopped myself into a seat.

I finally made it back at five thirty, my little adventure was a success. I walked into my neighborhood and found myself in front of my house. I semi-expected my father to be standing there, waiting to beat me. I brewed up the courage to open the door but to my relief it was as dark and empty as when I left. I made my way back to my room and crawled onto my mattress to make the most out of the one hour I had left.