Runaways

Victor

No one's going to miss me I think to myself bitterly as I pack my stuff into an overly expensive backpack.

Well, I guess my father will. After all, I am the only one who's supplying him with an enormous amount of money. Without me making money daily, he'll probably lose all this money on alcohol and prostitutes. Why yes. This excuse of a father is cheating on my mother with multiple ladies.

But don't worry about it. My mother already knows this. She's not filing a divorce because it'll ruin the image of our perfect family. As one can see, money has really ruined our family.

I do regret leaving my family with no one to make money, but I'm so sick and tired. Every day, I have multiple performances and I barely have any time to myself until I'm outside in the public, once again. Feeling tired of all this weight being placed on my shoulders, I've realized it's time to leave.

Finally finished packing my bag, I take out my fake ID and place it in the front pocket with a few thousand dollars in there. Hey! I told you I make an enormous amount of money.

Quietly closing my bedroom door behind me, I tiptoe down the stairs. Quietly laughing, I realize how funny this image must be. The famous, rich, and talented Victor Morgan is tiptoeing down the stairs. Feeling inspired, I tap my fingers against my leg with what I think the rhythm of my next composed song should be.

Nearing the door, I reach my hand out to open it, but then I'm interrupted because fate's not on my side.

"Victor," I hear my dad say from somewhere behind me.

Sh*t! I turn around and see him at the top of the stairs. He must have come in from the back door because I didn't see him before.

Before I respond, he says, "Why are you wearing a huge backpack?"

"I'm going to my friend's house," I lie smoothly.

"You can't go. You have a recital tonight," he reminds me while walking down the stairs towards me.

"Father, it's important. My friend's really sick. That's more important than one silly recital."

"Do not talk back to me! I have taken care of you my entire life. You live in my house, so you live by my rules. You will go to this recital!" he says as he stops a few feet away from me.

It's then, when he's right in front of me, that I smell something. After a few seconds, I realize what it is. It's the scent of another ladies perfume. He must've just came back from getting laid. Instantly getting angry, I start to yell at him.

"How dare you continue cheating on mother! You're going to get caught one day and the stupid perfect family facade you've put out there will shatter! Do you really want to lose all that money to a stupid mistake you've made!"

"Sorry kiddo, but your mother doesn't give me enough to not do it with someone else. I mean like, who doesn't want to get laid everyday?" he asks me honestly.

Feeling disgusted by him, I turn around to open the door, but then get cut off again. However, this time, it's not with words. This time, it's by my head being slammed into the door. Crying out in pain, my dad pulls my hair back and looks me straight in the eye.

"You are going to this recital no matter what! I don't care if your friend is dying on a hospital bed! This recital is much more important than that!" he says.

"Why? So you can use my hard earned money to hire more prostitutes?," I yell at him angrily.

"How dare you?" he yells at me and pushes my back onto the ground. He stands over me and starts kicking me in the chest.

"We should've left you to die when you were born. You were an accidental baby! No one wanted you back then and no one wants you right now! You're lucky your mother and I decided to keep you in our lives! You live in a huge mansion! Do you know how many people out there are living on the streets? You've helped them by using your talent and performing at charity events. So why don't you continue doing something in life that makes you useful and not a worthless piece of sh*t!" he finishes off with one last kick.

'No one wanted you back then and no one wants you right now' repeats in my head. Maybe he's right. Playing for charity events is the only way I'm helping the poor. Maybe I should stay.

But then I remember all the girls that have come after me for my money. I remember my father and mother using me only because I make money for them. I remember my reasons for wanting to leave this life and runaway to a different one.

Sitting up, I double over in pain when I realize that I might have a few broken ribs. Shoot! I might need to go to a hospital. Well, there's another way my plans of running away goes down the drain. I can't let anyone know where I'm going.

No Victor! The fighting part of me shouts. You can go to the nearest drug store (Rite-Aid, Walmart, Walgreens, and etc. Not a real drug store! Victor's not going to be doing drugs anytime soon....hopefully. I mean, it's all up to him) and get some bandages and medicine for your ribs. Starting to like this part of me, I open the front door of the mansion and walk over to my car. I can drive there. After all, the damage done to me isn't that bad.

Right?