Runaways

Chapter 1

Dario

I glance at the clock; it’s 3:30AM. I couldn’t sleep at all. I rub my eyes and sit over the edge of the bed. I look intently at my arms, I frustratingly try to rub the bruises off. I know I can’t. My parents’ have been abusing me ever since I was as little as the age of 6. I don’t know what happened even before, since I barely have any happy memory at all. 

I gaze at the framed picture on my wall. A picture of me holding hands with my parents at Disneyland, grinning. I almost smile, but then I remember everything that’s happened throughout the years, I turn my partial-smile into a blank stare. My parents sadistic, cruel way of ‘having fun’ with me is just hitting me. Repeatedly, with any harmful object they can find.

Sometimes, it really hurts. They hit me with a baseball bat once, and they’d weekly bash my head into bookshelves and walls. Rarely do I end up not bleeding at all. Every now and then I’d break a plate, and they’d throw it at me. Then that escalates into a beating from both my parents, with me curled up in a fetus position while they slap, kick, punch, and try to choke me. 

I run away out of the house occasionally, and when I come home about a day later they’d punch me in the face hard enough for me to black out every time this happens. But sometimes it hurts even more in the inside, that they don’t show remorse and that they could even do this to me, a mere-child. But I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t cry over their beatings anymore, I just lay there, enduring the pain. I then walk over to my dresser, half heartedly, and stop my overwhelming thoughts. 

I put on some black jeans, a black hoodie, slide my phone into my back pocket and slip downstairs. I grab about $50 dollars from my dad’s wallet. I quietly tiptoe back upstairs, taking my time so that the stairs don’t make the slightest noise. Going back into my room I bring a little bag with me, and randomly choose clothes that I’ll need for the long trip. Clutching the bag, I open my window, a sudden breeze of night air comes in. 

My back pocket vibrates and I check my phone. It’s Elizabeth; “I’m ready whenever you guys are.” I imagine the tone she would be saying that in. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t wait to see her, and to even run away with her. 

Punching out the screen, I put my head under the window and mutter under my breath, “I’m out of here.” 

I slide down the roof shingles cautiously, I almost slip down too fast, and I catch my breath. I grab the ledge, jumping down; I take one last look at my home. But it isn’t my home anymore. My home is with my friends. 

I tug my jacket down, and jog to Allie’s house. It’s not so far, as the dark night stalks me with each step. Random cold drifts of air fill my lungs, and I notice her tawny petite house right around the corner. My walking pace draws slower, and I drop my bag of clothes. Grabbing the water gutter, I manage to pull myself up, my stealth skills are pretty nice. I hold the shingles and creep close to Allie’s window. I knock 2 times, pause for a few seconds, and knock 3 times.

“Dario?” Allie murmured. I respond to her back, telling her all the info. She hands me a mask I had asked her for. “I need the gloves too, do you have your knife?” In order for this to all work accordingly, I need this to be proper and professional. 

She responds, telling me it’s in her bag, and we talk for a while. She jumps out the window, wasting no time. I hop out soon afterwards, and we walk quietly, only hearing the sound of our own footsteps, the leaves rustling on the trees, and we’re on our way to Eagle Park. I pull out my phone, and ask Elizabeth where she was located at the moment. She quickly responds, “I’m at home, in my room.”

“Are you ready?” I ask, while I had already put my mask on. Allie settled in her sweatshirt and asked for the knife, but no time to waste now. I slice her arm, and she snaps at me, and whimpers in pain. I tell her that’s how we planned it to be; to get enough blood to splatter. She smudges the basketball pole with her light red blood, as I pulled a hair from her scalp, covering her mouth. “That was your plan Allie.” I roll my eyes.

She mumbled something and asked if Elizabeth texted me. I respond plainly, “She’s in her room,” and she responds with directions for me to head to, but I deny. “I’m coming wherever your heading to. I’m going to see Elizabeth.”