Liz woke up the usual way: At 4:00 am with a deep feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.
She had been getting up earlier and earlier in futile attempts in avoiding him, but was having no luck so far. She knew the best thing to do was dress quickly in some dull colored, loosely fitting, exceptionally drab clothes:
-Two-sizes-too-big black hoodie
-Black t-shirt
-Dark colored, non-tight jeans that more than likely came out of the men's side of a thrift shop
-Black, practical running shoes
They did their job well- everything about her outfit, and even her posture virtually screamed, "Don't look at me!", as they should. Her entire appearance was designed with the sole intention of avoiding unwanted attention (so, basically ALL attention). She really didn't need anyone to really look at her, to notice her. To notice the cuts, the bruises. And she didn't want to attract any more of his attention.
Liz slowly crept out of her room, careful with the door (if it creaked, she'd be done for). Once in the hallway, her foot placement was tactical (she knew which floorboards squeaked), and she slowly made her way towards the kitchen, and the back door. she kept an eye on the comfy chair in front of the tv in the living room- it was where the monster dwelt.
Suddenly, a sharp CRUNCH alerted her that she had just tread on one of his discarded beer bottles. The feeling of dread was joined by one of sheer terror : she was caught.
It was over. Now he was gonna know she tried to sneak out and go to school without "Saying a proper goodbye". He'd be on her on a moment, holding from behind, arms wrapped in an iron grip, his foul breath filling her lungs with the reek of cheap beer and cigarettes. He was gonna be furious she'd tried to rob him of what he felt was his right as her biological father. His favorite saying was, "He who plants the seed has the right to taste the fruit." She had no way to stop him.. She'd already used the period excuse last week. He would be nothing but roaming hands and threats on what would happen if she talked to anyone about their "quality time"...
She tensed, eyes shut tight..... And nothing happened. She risked peeking her eyes around. Nothing. This just raised a greater question: Where did he go...?
She checked the fridge, there was plenty of beer. And that was all she could think to do. He didn't do anything, other than squalor his and her portions of mom's life insurance on beer, and.......well, he didn't have any reason to leave the house.
She was pretty sure he hadn't in about two years, discounting beer runs, but now he was gone, and that meant she was too. She knew a golden opportunity when she saw one, and she needed to leave before he came back. She'd sit at the 24 hour truck stop up the road until it was time for school.
Her 30 minute walk was quiet and uneventful, since the roads were empty, but then again it wasn't even 5 in the morning yet.
When she got to the truck stop, she was mildly surprised to find that no-one was inside, but that wasn't a huge leap, either. Sue - the waitress- wasn't behind the counter, but she was probably in the bathroom. In the meantime, Liz planned to put her head down on the counter and wait another hour. Sue wouldn't mind; she'd done this before.. And she did sleep, for 2 and a half more hours. Sue never woke her up, because she wasn't in the restroom, or even in the diner at all. And no-one else came in either...
YOU ARE READING
Alone, Together
Teen FictionLiz Cartwright was a 17 year-old girl. She had a 4.0 GPA, practically lived in the library, was always garbed in black head-to-toe, or else another color so dark you can't really tell the difference. No friends, no-one to ask what her family life wa...