Run

Part One | 3

Chapter 3

"I remember all the way back when I moved to Middleborough. I thought Gale would take me in for a few years and then I'd leave, never to be heard from again. I thought I'd leave alone. I'd always wanted to go to Colorado. It'd been a dream of mine, but so many things happened in Middleborough. A lot of my life went downhill the moment I stepped foot into that city. A lot of it is my fault, I guess.

Things were good for a while, but... I regret treating Gale the way I had. She stopped her life for me for a bit and I didn't acknowledge her for that. I was too mad, too grudged over the fact that she left. I wish I had treated her better. I really wish that."

...

About three hours later, Gale and I were just barely pulling up to an unfamiliar driveway, and finally, the drive that seemed perpetual proved me wrong. I realized we were finally in Middleborough, Massachusetts, and I wondered how I was able to sleep nearly the whole way here when I have problems sleeping in my own bed.

"I'm glad you're awake," Gale said as she parked, leaving the car on.

I didn't respond as I gazed at her house. It sat on a corner, complete with a freshly cut green lawn and perfectly painted blue windows. On the side of her house was a parked, medium sized boat named The Montana, one that looked new and expensive.

Everything about this simple view of her house gave me the impression she was doing well. Really well.

And the thought irritated me. While Gale was living a good life, one that didn't involve me, I struggled in the house she used to live in, a house she once called home. While my dad and I fought every single day, she was happily enjoying a life on her own, one with pricy boats and designer handbags, and what did I have? I had the constant reminder that I was never going to have a mom, that parents were too good for me, that I was waste of fucking space.

I don't care what the fuck Gale has. I didn't want to be here.

"This is 44 Chester Drive, Middleborough. It's not too hard to remember," she said softly, glancing at me from the driver seat.

When I didn't do anything, Gale turned off the car and unbuckled her seatbelt. I placed a right hand on the door handle hesitantly, not exactly wanting to get out and face my new life.

"I hope you'll like it here, Bryson," Gale said quietly.

Her words stopped me from opening the door and my mind went blank. Suddenly, a part of me wanted to forgive her for leaving. A part of me wanted to treat her the way I used to.

She left, though. She left.

She said I was like a real son to her. She used to say that. But how could I believe her? She didn't care. She probably never even liked me.

Angrily, I threw open the door and got out of the car, slamming it behind me.

I trotted up the porch and waited at the door. Gale took her time following me and slowly placed the key in the doorknob. I stuffed my hands in my back pockets and almost let out a sigh of relief when I felt the box of cigarettes sitting in the left one.

As Gale opened the door, I stepped inside and took a stick out. I felt more confident with it in my hand for some reason, and so asked her a question I knew she'd find uncomfortable to answer.