Gone

Chapter 1

As Brexley unlocked and walked through the door to her and her, recently wedded, husband's hotel room, she remembered how she walked out of her father's house so many years before. I ran away, well it will be four years in a month. Time sure has gone by quickly. Continuing to ponder upon her running away, Brexley let herself slip into a flashback of the day she decided to leave. It kind of formed into a habit, I would go to school every morning, come home, get beaten by my father, cover the revolting bruises with makeup, and repeat the process all over again the very next day. When I walked up the driveway, I knew that my father was home, and waiting for me, because his car was home and as soon as I walked in the door he started yelling for me to get my a** upstairs. Running up the hardwood stairs as quickly as my feet would carry me, I tried to think of how this all started. Close to four years before this event, my mom died of breast cancer, I guess my dad never really go over that, and so he went out drinking every night to try and soothe his broken heart. About three months later he came home more drunk than I'd ever seen anyone, he started yelling at me to fix him another Scotch on the Rocks, I had no idea what that meant and so I told him I couldn't make it, boy was that a mistake. He really never let it go, he's really good at holding grudges, so he beat me everyday after school. As I reached the landing of the staircase I turned to knock on the door to my father's study. As I reached up to rap my knuckles on the hard oak door, I hesitated for a moment. What would it be like if mom was still here? Would he still beat me? Would I have to hide behind makeup or wear long sleeves? What if there was a way to stop this. What if I didn't go in? What if I turned around, packed my things, and ran away? What if I never came back? I brought my hand down and rested it at my side, as I turned to start walking away, only to have my father swing the door open and yank my stick-like figure inside.

I can still remember how it felt and what I was thinking the last time that he beat me. As soon as his brick-like fist hit my arm, I knew what I had to do. I'll pack my things tonight when I *smack* am done here. I'll go to *crack* my room, pack my things, take them to school tomorrow, and I *smack* won't come home. As the beating came to an end, I pulled myself up off of the floor, looked my father dead in his cold, hateful eyes, and wished I could say the words that I longed to tell him. While I was opening the door to my cold, lifeless room, I heard my father say, "You better have your a** in here at three o'clock tomorrow." Wanting so desperately to tell him off, I simply replied, "Yes, father. I will be there at three o'clock sharp tomorrow." Picking up the few belongings and articles of clothing I owned, and shoving them in my small, black backpack, I decided that I wasn't going to go to school tomorrow, which would give me a lot of time to get far enough away that my father wouldn't be able to find me very easily, and if I was lucky, he wouldn't find me at all.

Brexley was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of Ben shutting the door. "Hey babe." Ben said, sitting on the bed next to Brexley. "Hey. Where were you this morning?" Brexley asked. "I was out looking for that ice cream parlor everyone here has been talking about.." "Did you find it?" "Yeah, and it's only two blocks away. So I was thinking we could go there this afternoon." "That would be fun." "Yeah. Have you been in bed since I left?" "No, I woke up when you left, so I went down to the hotel's library." "I can't believe that today is the last full day we have here." "I know, it's gone by so fast."

That afternoon, as Ben and Brexley were walking to the ice cream parlor, she fell into another flashback. I hung around town at the library until close to four o'clock before I started walking to get to the nearest bus station, which happened to be two towns over from Temple. It took me two hours to walk to that bus station and on the way there I had plenty of time to think As I neared the rundown bus station, I started having second thoughts, though it only took a split second thought about my father to convince me that I was doing the right thing. Climbing the few wooden steps to enter the bus station, I pulled 2 twenty dollar bills out of my pocket, to pay for my ticket, and continued through the door and up to the front desk. "One way ticket to St. Paul, Minnesota," Brexley stated confidently . "That'll be 40 dollars, miss." Maybe I shouldn't do this. Maybe I should just go back and let my father beat me until I am 18 and old enough to move out and live on my own. "The next bus leaves in three hours," said the sweet elderly ticket teller, as she handed me my ticket. My dad is going to come looking for me, maybe I would be better off if I just went home. No, I have to continue this. I need to get away from my dad, I can't, and I won't be abused any longer. "Thank you miss.." I said looking for the teller's name tag. "Taylor." "Thank you Miss Taylor. I hope you have a wonderful day," I stated as I turned around to find a seat in the empty bus station. Finding only a few plastic chairs lined against the wall, I made my way towards them and took a seat. As soon as the cold plastic touched my bare skin, I knew this would be the longest three hours of my life.

At about 9:50 pm I heard, calling out over the small station, "Now loading to St. Paul. Now loading to St. Paul." Picking up my backpack and ticket, I walked outside to load the bus. Making my way to the back of the bus, I tried to keep my head low. Sitting on the cold vinyl seats, I thought back to why I decided to leave. Because I was being abused. Ever since I told him that I didn't know how to make a something, my dad has beaten me every day. Why I walked two towns over to get a bus ride. Had I stayed in Temple to wait for a bus, my dad would have already found me, taken me back home, and given me the worst beating of my life. What I would do once I got to Minnesota. I'll have to find a job, get an apartment, and eventually finish my education. During the times that the bus stopped so people could buy snack foods, use the restroom, and so that the driver could fill the bus up with gas, I would buy small things to change myself, such as hair dye, hair scissors, and a few more articles of clothing.

Three and a half days later, I awoke to the thud of the bus coming to a sharp stop. Will that driver ever learn to how to stop without killing someone? "Arrivals to St. Paul exit here. Arrivals to St. Paul exit here." Finally. I grabbed my backpack and with slow, steady steps I walked out the narrow door with a smile on my face ready to start my new life. Thankfully there was a truck stop next to the bus station, so I made my way over to the restroom section of it. Nearing the women's bathroom I noticed that the hinges were a little rusty and there was no door handle, pushing the door open a ringing, horrible screeching sound could be heard throughout the parking lot. Once inside, I flipped on the lights, Thank heavens these still work. and started to pull out the dark, auburn hair dye and scissors that I had purchased on the way up to Minnesota.

Roughly three and a half hours later, I exited the bathroom with shoulder length, auburn hair, completely different from my originally elbow length, strawberry blonde hair. Content with how my hair looked, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out, not knowing what I was going to do next. As the sun started to set, I decided that I had better find a place to spend the night. Realizing that I wouldn't have time to walk anywhere before the sun finished setting, I made a makeshift bed with my backpack and a piece of cardboard, outside of the truck stop.