September Scars

One; Getaway

{April 31st, 2011}
I hurled my school books across my room in frustration. They crashed against the stained beige wall, creating a loud bang throughout the small rundown town house. Diving onto my bed in the corner of the room, I let out a huge sigh. A yell was heard from downstairs. It was my poor excuse of a father. He probably wanted to use my money, go off and buy drugs, alcohol and fulfil his 'gambling needs'. I swung open the paint stripped door of my room and trudged down the creaky wooden staircase, leading to a short hallway. I walked down the hallway, and entered the kitchen, to see my dad, holding a piece of paper, face fuming in fury. He slammed his fist onto the dining room table, causing me to suddenly jerk backwards. He looked up at me with his bloodshot eyes that were bulging out of his head. "What is this?!" He screamed at me as he shoved my report card in my face. The page was covered in C's and D's. "I told you last time that you had one more chance to improve your goddamn grades! But of course you never listen, do you?" Already in a pissy mood because of assignments, I couldn't hold back my anger. "Well, MAYBE, if I had a family who actually SUPPORTED me and a dad who didn't waste the family savings on DRUGS AND ALCOHOL, then maybe, just maybe I might actually be doing well in school!" I suddenly felt a burning sensation erupt on my cheek before I realised that my father had struck me across the face. "How DARE you speak to me like that! I am sick of you and your repulsive behaviour! Get out of my sight!" He exclaimed in Japanese, shooing me off with a flick of his wrist.

Storming up the stairs, I pushed open my bedroom door, and slammed it shut. I pulled open my closet, ripping my ragged old backpack from its rusty metal hook. I threw the backpack onto the cold, wooden floor, violently unzipping it, and began shoving as many of my clothes into it as I could fit. Scavenging through my drawers, I managed to find two twenty dollar notes, and slipped them into a small pocket in my bag. I slid my phone and it's charger off my bedside table and into my hoodie pocket. My eyes scanned across the room, searching for anything else I might need. Slipping on my black high tops, I swung my bag onto my back and headed for my window. I pushed open my cracked glass window to the side, kicking the fly screen off. I watched as it crashed to the ground below. Before I jumped, I muttered under my breath, "I'm sorry, mum. I can't take this anymore."

Leaping out of my window, I plummeted into a pile of dead leaves. I silently snuck past the kitchen, concealing myself in the shadows. As I passed, I glanced back and saw the silhouette of my father against the kitchen light. He was leaned against the archway, with his phone held up against his ear. He seemed to be in the middle of a deep conversation, but 7 words struck fear into my heart.

"I've had enough of her. It's time."

Had enough of what? Time for what?

Thoughts raced through my head faster than I raced from my home. I sprinted away, as fast as my legs could move until I arrived at the nearest bus stop.

The bus soon appeared out of the darkness, it's bright headlights caught my attention, and it lit up the jagged road in front of me. I handed the bus driver one of the twenty dollar notes, and he passed me my change and a ticket. I quickly headed towards the back of the bus, stuffing the change into my jeans pocket and holding tightly onto the ticket. I crashed down into my seat, letting out a sigh of relief. Finally, I was away from the devil that was my father. I stared out the window, saying my goodbyes to the street I had grown up in, the street I knew too well. From now on, I was going to have to take responsibility. My eyelids felt heavy, and my mind was clouded. Before I knew it, I was sound asleep.

I woke up to the sound of the bus drivers voice. He was calling me, referring to me as 'the tall girl'. We had arrived at the last stop, and were in the city. My eyes slowly opened. I stood up, rubbing them, walking towards the bus door. I was still tired, and needed to find somewhere to stay. I wandered the streets for a while before finding a quiet alleyway, dimly lit by a flickering street lamp. I trudged into it, legs sore and eyes drowsy. I hid in one of the graffiti covered doorways. Pulling out one of my mother's hoodies, I slipped it over my head, tugging it downwards and covering my legs and body. It was large and comfy, and would keep me warm for the night. My thick dark brown hair fell over my face as I tilted my head down. As I drifted off, I was jolted awake by a large manly hand covering my mouth, and another arm pulling at my waist. The hand smelt of cigarettes, and felt dry and wrinkly. A mans voice whispered in my ear...

Don't you dare make a sound.
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