The Boy In The Window

Chapter 5: Skipping School

~~~~~Later~~~~~

I woke up in my room, my wrists stiff from the bandages that were wrapped around them. I sat up. How had I gotten home? I was supposed to be dead right now. My internal questions were interrupted with a loud slam coming from my bedroom door being kicked open.

SLAM!

I jumped, rolling off my bed onto the side facing away from the door.

“CASSIE! Get over here now!” John shouted. I peeked over the bed and gave John a deathly glare that would send Freddy Krueger running. “You little cunt, get over here!”

I stood, but made no move to step towards him.

“Bitch, I said MOVE!” he shouted, his rage and drunkenness evident on his face. I still didn’t move. “Jenny, help me out with your kid.”

My mom popped up behind John, smirking drunkenly at me from over his shoulder.

“Do as John says and maybe we’ll make it a little less painful.” She smiled evilly. I realized something then. Staring past my mother’s shoulder, I could see a few men in the hall. My eyes were probably as wide as our dinner plates. They were going to sell me?

I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, I couldn’t even blink. Tears fell from my eyes, streaming silently down my cheeks. Then my mind kicked into action. I turned and ran for the window, but someone managed to tackle me to the ground.

“NO!” I screamed. I elbowed the person and tried to get up, but more men were holding me down. I fought as hard as I could when they picked me up, carrying me to the bed. But it was no use; they just hit me back harder. I screamed; then was gagged with a rag. I thrashed and kicked; someone injected something into my neck and I felt sleepy. I could barely move, and sleep was trying so very hard to overcome me. I gave in to the blackness as the first man stepped up and fingered his zipper, a sadistic smile creeping up his face.

~~~Later~~~

I woke up and, looking down, noticed that I was, once again, left lying naked in my bed. I sat up; holding back tears that threatened to spill. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. Just the other day John had taken all that was left of my innocence from me, and now he was exploiting me. I needed a shower like I needed air, I felt so sick and dirty.

I stood and gagged when I saw 7 used condoms lying on the floor next to my bed. Running to the bathroom, I threw up whatever was left in my stomach since yesterday, which was not much, just a breakfast bar. I got up and brushed my teeth and took a shower. I put on my black jeans, a black t-shirt that said “Don’t Talk to Me” in blue writing, and my all-black converse. I went to put on concealer, but remembered that there wasn’t any left. I put on all black makeup.

I decided to skip school today, and opted for changing the sheets on my bed yet again. I lie on my clean bed, but found that I couldn’t stay still in this room anymore. My safe haven was gone. It was just as disgusting as the rest of my world. I stood, no longer wanting to touch the bed. I paced like I had the other night, and thought. I wanted to get out of here, I wanted to leave, I wanted to die and get it the fuck over with. That thought brought me back to my earlier question. How was I still alive? I searched for my backpack, finding it by my desk. I opened it and searched for a clue, a note, something to help me solve this mystery. No way in hell did my mother or John find me. There was nothing in my backpack but what I had put in there. I threw it across the room with a curse and began to pace again. I again felt claustrophobic and began to feel as if the walls were closing in on me. I pulled at my hair and panted, trying to calm down. But that only made it worse, my thoughts began to blur and I panicked, leaning up against the wall and taking deep breathes, feeling as if I was suffocating.

A light sheen of sweat formed on my forehead, and I ran to the window, throwing it open and leaning out of it, taking quick, panting breathes. I couldn’t get enough air. I began to feel lightheaded and my head swam. I realized that I was craving the scent from the pillow in the other house, it would clear my head. I couldn’t think from the stench of weed and beer. I looked to the tree branch above me and leaned further out, reaching up until I had a good grip on it. I pulled myself up and clung to it so I wouldn’t fall off in my dizzy state. I slowly scooted farther towards the backyard of the next house. The farther away I got from my house, the better I felt, the safer I felt. When I finally touched the ground of the backyard, I was no longer panting, bit I was still a bit lightheaded. I crept through the dog door and listened closely for any sound.

Nothing.

I crept up the stairs, still wary. When I heard a low thump, my heart leapt into my throat. I held my breath and waited. Muffin came around the corner, where I had heard the thump come from. I breathed out a sigh of relief. I walked over a petted Muffin, making her purr. Then I tiptoed into the room, and saw that nothing had changed. Well, except for the time on the clock. 

I walked into the middle of the room, examining the place more closely this time. The thing that caught my eye was the corkboard full of pictures. I was way into photography, so I decided to take a closer look. Walking up to the pictures, I examined each and every one of them. They were all of old buildings and plants, some were of people and some were little drawings. They were dusty, but I could see everything clearly. They were beautiful, magical. One in particular caught my eye. It was a forest scene, with light streaming through the gaps in the jade green leaves. It looked like my clearing, but the trees were fuller and had more color. I reached out to touch it, but held back. I didn’t want to ruin it.

My lightheadedness wasn’t getting any better, so I turned to the bed. The pillow lay there, waiting for me to lay my head on it and breathe in the delicious scent. I could only smell weed on my clothes, and I didn’t want to ruin the scent of the sheets or pillow, so I stripped to my underwear and climbed on the bed, hoping to god that no one would catch me here.

I lie down and immediately felt ten times better, the axe and cigarette mix filling my head and flushing out the nastiness of my house. I stared at the ceiling, and tried to think of positive things, but all I could think about was last night. Tears filled my eyes and I let them flow freely, relieving myself of all the pent-up depression.  I cried for about half an hour, before I got up and put my clothes on. I walked to the window, because I honestly had no idea how to get back into my house without being seen coming from this one. Shoving it open, I stared at my window not even 20 yards away. Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I couldn’t find the will to go home. I didn’t want to go back. Sobs racked my body, making me shiver.

I slid to the ground below the window, pulling my knees up to my chest and letting the sobs take over, taking comfort in the dusty room. I cried for a long time, I didn’t pay attention to the time. Eventually, I noticed the sun getting lower in the sky, and decided that I had better get home before I was caught being gone. I stood and climbed onto the window sill, using the same method as the other time to get back into my room.