Trigger

Attempt

BANG! BANG! BANG!

My own father, with a gun in his hand, he abused me but I never thought he would go this far.

I wake up as beads of sweat roll down my face, thank god that was only a dream. I was none the less horrified, my foster father john was a horrible man.

"EVERLY!" A deep voice roars through the house.

"Coming"

I quietly arose out of my bed and walked downstairs attempting to cover my endless scars, I don't think Stephanie knew what he did, she was never around to see.

I crept down the last stair and peered around the kitchen wall, there stood an angry, raging drunk.

John pointed his fat fingers to the pristine white tiles at least 3 feet away from him, I advanced stepping unsure of what would happen.

Not again I think to myself.

A slight scream escapes from my hoarse throat to my shattered lips as John's huge firm hand places a blow just under my cheekbone, yet I stand there afraid yet unmoving.

I whine in pain as John let's another strong blow to my left shoulder blade.

"Now you worthless wimp stay in your room until I come back, and If you move one inch out of your room I'll make sure to pick up a shotgun on my way home"

I nodded in acknowledgement of his comment.

So it's true. I thought, he would go that far.

In my room I curled up under the sheets.

I could do it. I convinced myself.

I could.

I wake up shivering from the lack of sheets over my body, Hm still not back? I walked out of my room knowing the consequences and into my "parents" room. I scavenged for money but nothing, I made m way into the kitchen where lay three 50 dollar bills. Thinking of nothing I took them and ran up to my room. I bet that was his boos money.. That man.. That man..

I'm going to do it, tomorrow when the little girl goes to school, Stephanie goes to teach and john goes to the bar, I'm going to run. Run as fast as I can as long as I can as far as I can. It was the only way to escape this everlasting hell.. In my room I pulled out the large duffle bag I still owned from when they adopted me from the orphanage, this would be the bag I used. I've had this duffle bag for 12 years I got it when I was two as a gift from the orphanage, I don't know why I just did..

I packed my makeshift wallet I made from old ducttape from the vents and stuffed the money in it, I had the 150 I scored today and the 1500 I've made from working the past months, I've been skipping school and working, anticipating this day when I had enough guts to do it. I pack all my clothes, jackets. Any evidence I was ever here, I even grabbed the adoption papers I found while rummaging for food, I examined them carefully. You never know. I grab anything that could be proof of where I've gone and I know where I was going. A long while ago when I was with the vanhellers (one of my adoption family's) they had a cottage up on a small island located only a little ways from land and we lived in it for a few summers then we just left, and didn't come back for 6 years.. Then they died and I was put back into foster care.. I was the only one who knew about the cottage other then their friends the foldpengs but I don't think they would go up there. I break my daze and get up I sling the duffle bag over my shoulder and look back at the long hall of our crappy old bungalo, goodbye.

I unlock the door when I hear a car door slam shut. Holy... I run backwards but not in time to get into my room, the door swings open and I bolt, tripping over a loose panel floorboard.

SMACK!

My head falls to the floor and my vision fades into an unconscious rest.