Social Suicide

On the Run

It was spring break and the scene before me-- and everyone else-- was a happy, laughing family at the park. I was seven and mum and dad had just found out they were having another baby. Mum was so over the moon and as for dad, well he seemed pretty excited too.

He was helping me climb the monkey bars, I looked into his green eyes and sandy blonde hair.

"Keep going Rob! You're almost there!" When he smiled, the sides of his eyes wrinkled. At that moment, he was happy.

"Boys, it's time to go! It's getting dark." Mum called out to us. I looked over at her skinny complexion and realised it would grow massively in the next couple of months. Her black hair made her pretty blue eyes stand out.

Dads strong arms engulfed me as he ran toward mum. I was giggling as he made a family sandwich. He hugged mum-- with me still in his arms.

Usually children looked like a splitting image of just one of their parents but, I looked like neither. I had mums skinny body, her hair and a little of her personality. I possessed some of dads traits too, like his green eyes, thin mouth and perfect teeth.

We arrived home and I was getting ready to have a shower. I could hear my parents whisper-arguing over something. Out of no where, voices were being raised so I walked out of my room with a towel in my hand and my clothes from the park still on.

I hid, watching as dad yelled at mum.

"It's not my baby?! What do you mean it's not my fucking baby? Are you a slut or something now?"

"Babe, re--" mum was trying to get him to relax but it wasn't working.

"Don't you fucking babe me!" He pushed her hand away.

"I told you I got r--" by that point, tears were streaming out of mums eyes. She chocked on the 'r' and before she could say the rest of the word, dad's fist came in contact with her stomach.

Mum cried out in pain and clutched it.

"Dad, st--" I came out of my hiding spot and tried to stop the scene in front of me.

"Stay out of this Rob!" Dad shouted.

"Honey, go back to your room. I'll deal with it." Mum looked at me and blinked away the tears. I didn't have an option but to return to my room.

I let the door slam and stood in the hiding place between the bookcase and hallway wall. I was that skinny.

"Go to hell, you dirty cunt. We're over!" My mum yelled. Just as she was turning away, dad's fist collided with her face.

"Stop it daddy! Stop. Please just stop!" I ran out of my hiding place and pleaded with him to stop.

He looked at me, and I saw pure hatred flash through his eyes.

"I bet he isn't mine either!" Dad screamed as he punched mums stomach again.

I went to my parents room and grabbed a bag. I chucked all of dads stuff in it and when I was finished, chucked it out the door.

I threw him his car keys and told him to get out.

"I know you're daddy, but you're no longer the man I look up to. The man I want to be. Get out of my house!" I looked into his eyes and said this with force. His eyes were almost an exact reflection of mine.

"You two better run. I'm gonna leave tonight, but if I ever find you again... You're dead." With that, he stepped out the door.

That was the last thing I remembered about my dad.

__________________________

After the incident with dad, mum and I took to the road. Since then, it had been nine years since our lives were turned upside down, give or take a little.

I remember that first night when we had packed everything into our mini van, mum looked swollen and bruised. Her face had purple marks everywhere and she kept playing with her stomach. Later on that week, mum found out she had a miscarriage.

Today was the anniversary of our incident. Mum usually spent today crying in our van, for the loss of her unborn child. I let her cry, let her release her feelings. I went to the kitchen of my temporary home and grabbed a bottle of water.

The house was empty because tonight was our last night in this city. It was a holiday house so we didn't need to take any furniture with us.

I bounced onto the couch and watched whichever soap opera was on tv. It was boring me, but I had nothing better to do.

I unlocked my iPhone --I had found it on the floor once when I was walking to the shops; it had no lock and no one was looking for it so after about a month, I restored it and changed the number. I had to bargain my way for a charger but, I had most accessories now-- and read the text from a private number. It read:

'How ya doin, son? Long time no see buddy. I heard you're going well at school (not). I hope those losers make it more of a living hell for you. I'll see you at school tomorrow, loner.'

It was the first text I had ever gotten from my dad, so I decided to reply.

'Fuck off you inconsiderate bastard. I hate you.'

I didn't wait for a reply. I simply took my SIM card out, snapped it in half, grabbed the little things I had left and chucked them in the car.

I locked the house and returned the key to the receptionist.

"Which number were you, nice eyes?' She asked.

"305." I replied.

"Would you look at that, three weeks in front of rent. Here ya go, nice eyes." She called me 'nice eyes' again. I wanted to scream. They were a constant reminder of my dad.

"Nice eyes?"

"Sorry?" I asked deep in thought.

She handed me a wad of cash. I snatched it from her hands and ran to the car.

I jumped in the front, startling mum. "Let's go. He knows where we are." I said to her as she looked at me with wide, red-rimmed eyes.