At 2:45am I awake and stand slowly, trying to ignore the pain that's surging through my entire body. Forcing my feet to walk to the door, I turn the knob slightly, only to see that my father has locked me in. Again. I resume my position in the floor and lean my back against the cold wall. The early morning goes on for eternity. I sit silently for 7 hours. Thinking. Regretting. Hoping. Praying. My stomach twists and snarls at me, so I stand and check the door knob.
Still locked.
I gently comb my fingers through my hair and re-adjust my long ponytail. I'll just wait. I mean, he has to let me out eventually, right? Maybe. Maybe not. Glancing to the mirror next to my my closet, I see a monster. The bandage on my head is long gone, and Mrs. Aldera's yellow shirt is splattered in blood. My face is an even scarier sight. It is decorated with scratches and bruises, and my nose leaves a trail of blood down my neck and shirt. I open my eyes wide, trying to gain my vision back in my right eye, but it makes no difference. I curiously lift my shirt to study my stomach. Big mistake. A large, purple and black splotch covers the skin from my ribs to my hip bones. I sicken myself so much that I turn the mirror over and refuse to look in it again. As I change into a black shirt and jeans, I glance at the sunlight streaming through my small window.
No.. No, the latch isn't there.
The one thing that had given me hope, fresh air, is now gone. I wearily sit on my bed, accepting the fact that my father will be the death of me. Every few hours I try to open my bedroom door time after time, but I never succeed. Glancing at my alarm clock, I see that it's 4pm. I haven't heard one word from my father all day. As if I want to, though..
I half-limp, half-crawl to my window and lean my forehead against the warm pane. I close my eyes and try to imagine that I'm still with Luke. I miss him more than I can say.
Suddenly, I hear a noise.
*tap*
My eyes immediately dart to the door.
*tap*
No, its not my dad.. With shaky legs I stand up and look out the window. There, below me, stands a blue-eyed boy with pebbles in his hands.
Luke.
YOU ARE READING
The Runaways
AdventureSkyler Ripton is a fifteen year old, but not the kind you might picture. She shows up to school every day with new cuts and bruises, never speaking to anyone. One day she disappears. ------------------------------- Published in 2013 (in other word...
