Just the Beginning

(1)

I woke with a start when the front door slammed downstairs, shaking the house. I sat up quickly, only to lay down again, and curl into the fetal position because of the pain. Gathering up my courage, I crawled out of bed, and limped to the window just in time to see my father driving away. It was now or never.

First, I grabbed some clothes for the day. Once I had my cream-colored jumper, navy skinny jeans, and a few other add-ons picked out, I made my way to the bathroom. I stripped down and stepped into the almost steaming hot water of the shower, letting it wash away my stress, my pain, and my fear. After going through my usual shower routine- albeit slower than usual -I got dressed, but made sure to clean my cut before slipping my jumper on. I moved on to makeup as I let my hair dry.  

I'm not a fan of makeup, but it was necessary to cover up any marks left by my father. I used concealer to make my skin seem less bruised, and brushed a deep pink blush over the top to replace the purple underneath the makeup. I curled my eyelashes and added mascara, but skipped eyeliner, because it always took the longest, and I didn't have much time.

When I got back to my room, I dug through my closet before I found a backpack, and filled it with everything that I thought would be necessary when I was gone. I carried the backpack and my guitar down the stairs, and placed my guitar on the counter while I filled the backpack with as much food as I could. The lump in my chest grew every minute, knowing that my father could come home at any time.

I once again grabbed my backpack and guitar as I headed toward the door. I found my maroon sweatshirt, and pulled it over my head before slipping on my black suede high-tops. I let out a long sigh before opening the front door a crack, and looking around. It didn't seem that anyone dangerous was around, so I stepped out entirely, and closed the door behind myself.

I walked slowly down the porch steps, but when I reached the bottom, I took off running like Maria in The Sound of Music, completely ignoring the pain shooting through my body. I stopped running about a kilometer later, and tried to catch my breath.

Once my breathing was a bit more normal, I continued to walk toward central London, entertaining myself by trying not to step on any of the cracks in the pavement. I wasn't quite watching where a was going, and was startled by loud horns blaring at me as I crossed the street. I gave the drivers my most apologetic smile, and continued on.

About five minutes later, I found a good corner to work at. Using some chalk that I had in my bag, I wrote "I take requests! Donations greatly appreciated. God bless." Once I had written that, I spread out a blanket, and sat down with my guitar across my lap, and the open box sitting next to me. To get started, I put clicked shuffle on my phone, and looked to see the first song that popped up. It was a classic (for me) and I smiled when I was it. People walking by probably thought I was crazy, but I guess that I was in a way. I plucked a couple strings on my guitar, which I had named Richard, and began stunning chords soon after. A few people gathered when I started playing, and I began to sing.

"Face me, are you tired of living? 

A place she was so unforgiving  

And I'm so frustrated, so dilated, 

And she's telling me I've wasted my time 

And I'm running back like,  

Just to face the facts right,  

To tell me your voice takes me through the night. 

Your smile and your memory simply eases me to sleep 

In my ear, while the whispering, melts my heart on every beat 

Still your singing lullabies and postcards to this place,