Why Don't We Just...

Cheshire

// October 18, 2012 \\

Growing up, I was always the outcast. I sat alone at lunch and I never had any true friends. I laid on my bed, looking up at ceiling, thinking about what I could do before my parents got home. It's 5:15 p.m right now.. dad comes home at 5:30. My mom thinks we have a perfect father/daughter relationship. She's wrong.. he sometimes beats me to release his anger, and when my mother arrives, he's all happy and giddy for her. Lies upon lies to explain the bruises and cuts I get, but she believes them every time. Not too long later, the door slams. He's home.

"Here we go again.."

I get up and walk downstairs, and on cue, he starts yelling at me.

"CHESHIRE! GET YOUR DOWN HERE!"

"Coming dad.."

Like always there's cursing, insulting, spitting in my face.. then the beatings. I don't know why I cry, it happens every day unless he's hanging out with his friends. About 10 minutes later he lets me go. Calls me an excuse for a daughter and walks away. I stand there, unfazed. I'm used to this. I turn on my heel and walk into the bathroom. I open the cabinets and take out the first aid kit and preform the same procedure. A black eye, 2 cuts on my forehead and a dark bruise on my chest stare back at me in the mirror. Perfectly covering the bruises, I walk back upstairs to my room. I take a moment to breathe.. and cry. I cry harder then I've cried before. Why me? I'm 13 years old, yet I've felt decades of pain. It's 6:45 and mom's arrived now. I'm sick of her thinking it's all okay. I'm sick of my dad treating me like a punching bag. I'm sick of living this life..

"I've gotta get out of here."

I mumble to myself as I jump into action, planning an escape and packing my bag. I don't own nice things or many things, for that matter. A simple duffel bag will suffice. A moment later mom calls us down for dinner. I have an older brother, Kyle. Ever since he left for college 3 years ago this family fell apart. A few months after he left was when the abuse started, actually. Dinner's quiet like usual. The only sounds heard were forks scraping against plates, an occasional throat clearing from my dad, mom trying to make discussion, and the fake interest my dad puts on asking me about my day. After dinner is over I rush upstairs and call Charlie. He's one of the people I can actually consider a friend.

"Charlie, I'm not going to be at school tomorrow, I'll need you to cover for me. Say I'm sick or something."

"Wait, why."

"I can't tell you.. just trust me."

"Alright then. Goodnight."

"Night."

I hang up and toss my phone in the bag. I wait and wait until my parents fall asleep, 10:07. I creep downstairs and walk out the back door. The front door has security but my parents didn't set one up for the back. I take my bike and ride it to Walter's Creek. It's a park, but I only go there for the view. At night, the lake is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. I hop off the bike and walk it to the bike racks, setting it down. I toss my bag on the ground beside me and sit on the picnic table. It's nice and peaceful until suddenly, a bright light gleams from behind me. Cops, I figured.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here, please don't arrest me."

I turn around with my hands up, pleading. But there aren't any cops. Just a tall guy on a bike as well. I couldn't see him very well, as it's dark out.

"Who are you?", the person called out.

"Who are you?", I retorted.

With a low chuckle, the figure stepped into the moonlight, and he was very nice looking. He had brown shiny hair and the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen. His smile was very nice and made him even more attractive. He stepped up to me and took a seat on the table with me.