Running Away- A Thinknoodles Fanfiction

1.2- The Exit

I grab my camouflage backpack; I got it from my cousin from the army. Dead. My family. It's falling apart, if not already broken. I open my closet, and I grab my 4 pairs of jeans, and some brown shorts. I grabbed several black shirts. I get a GMM hat, the silver logo forming a squirrel-like creature. On my dresser lays my fandom necklace, symbols of every fandom I have. I remind myself over and over again, only bring what you need. I look away.

I can't do it. I grab it. 

Leo squeaks in his little cage. No doubt I need him for my sanity. I hold him. I walk to the kitchen, stroking his soft, red hair. At first, I thought he was a girl, and was about to call him Rachel. Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

I grab the cereal granola. It's dried, and it'll never spoil. I grab two thermoses of water, and some purification tablets. I'll be going at least three days, and that's if I never stop, on bike. There's a pocket knife, and I take that too. It has a 3 inch blade. It was in the sheath, that had a belt loop. I also grasp a basketful of some trail mix. I ignore the candy. 

I grab my iPod 4. I hesitate, but then I go with it. My parents don't care about me. They never did. they won't track me. My brother doesn't even know where I am. Heck, I probably faded from his memory, too. The only person who cared was Abby, who died. From my step-father's reckless driving. I still remember her light laughter, the way her smile lit up the whole room. Her deep blue eyes, bluer than the Caribbeans, eyes you could get lost in. Her soft, long brown hair that I always used to braid. Her athletic body, flexible, lean yet strong. She was the top of her class. She's gone now.

I grab 4 portable chargers, as there will probably be no outlets for most of my journey. I can't stop for every outlet I see. That'll slow me down, and I need to get away as quick as I can. I grab my little wilderness handbook. If I ever get stuck in the woods, I know what to eat, what to avoid, and what animals to befriend. Thanks to that, I was able to make small dandelion stew, when my step-father was too drunk to drive. He even admitted it that day. Haymitch alert. 

Speaking of my step-father, I remember he has a pistol. He tried to tell me what kind it was, but I didn't want to listen. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't even have to sneak into his room, since he snores like Cerebus. But I did anyway. It was under his bed. I picked it up, grabbing the rubber handle. I looked on the side. It was a Wilson Combat Classic Elite 1911 pistol. Didn't mean anything to me. I checked the bullets. Full. I was good on weapons. I get ready to leave, but then I remember- I have to bring food for Leo, too! I grab all the packets of it. I grab my navy blue lunchbox. I was in 6th grade, so a Lego Land lunchbox wouldn't socially pass. I don't know how emoji lunchboxes do. I stuff all the food stuffs in it, then stuff it in my bag. I had a laptop, but it was too heavy. Besides, it's too inefficient in terms of adventures. An iPod fits in your pocket. A laptop certainly doesn't. I fit on a black t-shirt that only has a small skull on the breast pocket. I put Leo in there. He was tired. I stroked his head to let him sleep. I fitted on a pair of black Nike shoes. I reached inside the closet near the front door to grab my gloves. It was summer, but I was taught to be prepared. 

My turquoise blue watch was still on my arm. 11:35. Good. Nobody will see me. Especially in the minor corners of Durham. North Carolina. Scattered with farms, fields, woods, mountains. I opened the door, and stepped down the brick steps toward the walkway to the driveway. I mounted my bike. I looked toward my house one last time. I don't know why I felt sentimental. I looked toward the road, aware of the dangers I would have to face. Getting caught by police, and driven home, back to hell. Mauled by animals lurking in the dark. Shot by wild, drunk men, not giving a care about other people. Starvation, thirst, exhaustion. But no. I have to do it.

I rode forward.