~Circumstances~ Saints Row III Fanfic ~ Matt Miller x K1ttY~

7. Jailbreak!

I was shaking in my skin. I wasn't afraid of my mom, but I was afraid of what she'd do. Her fits of rage were legendary, and large enough each time to put Killbane into a shivering fit. Her livid-ness constricted her usual matter-of-fact voice into one that held wicked intentions. "Welcome home..." Her voice shook with unfathomable rage. I bowed my head slowly and looked down at my feet. I remained silent and was frantically cycling through escape plans in my head. When I thought of one that just might work, I tightened my grip on the stair railing. I suddenly made a mad dash for my room, trying to propel myself forward by yanking my way up the stairwell and flinging myself up. Before I could even get past the first stair my mother had grabbed me by my hair and yanked me down to the floor with the force of a man that was hellbent on revenge. My head cracked against the stairwell and I landed on the floor like a sack of bricks. I saw stars. My mother dragged me by my hair down the hall, through the kitchen, and to the small door at the end of the hall adjacent from the laundry room, muttering insanely and occasionally throwing in a few profanities. I tried to cry for help, but my voice cracked due the sharp pain in the back of my head. I heard her open the door as I flailed to try to break her grip, but it was to no avail. She grabbed me by the back of my dress while still clutching my hair, and tossed me down the basement stairs. "Want to run away from home do you, you ungrateful wretch?! Well I hope you're happy! You have disappointed God in the heaviest way!" She called. There were only 10 or so stairs for me to fall down, but it felt like a hundred. I landed on the frigid ground, the deafening silence of the basement broken by a crack and my staggered breathing. I saw her silhouette standing against the light of the washing room, which glowed fittingly red, before she slammed the door and locked it. I heard her huff away, then some smashing and stomping. I blinked and made small gasps for air. It was never easy to breathe down here. The air was so still in the basement; it was like trying to breathe stone or water. The basement was like any horror movie basement. Each of its four walls were made up of concrete, just like its ceiling and floor. A tattered mattress sat in the corner along with a tattered blanket and pillow. I didn't bother trying to get up. Everything hurt too much. I knew that Matt must be worried sick about me, and knowing that I was where I was probably wouldn't have made him feel any better.
I blinked and allowed my eyes to adjust to the dim light. A single, rusty lightbulb hung from above. I had been down here many times before as a kid for being an 'ungrateful wretch'- for wearing ripped clothes, or refusing to say my prayer because I was late for school or something. From my makeup choice to my music, I was purely heathen. I gently moved my arm to my head to check for blood or bruises. My whole scalp ached pretty hard along with the back of my head. I came across a sensitive spot and brought my hand back to the front of my face. My fingers were splotched with red. "Damn it..." I whispered. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she left me to bleed to death down here. I finally gained the strength to struggle up to a sitting position, and I glanced around. There was canned food in one corner, and a small cup of kitchenware next to it. A little further from there lay a case of 10 year old water. I could survive down here sure, but I couldn't live. I crawled forward as much as I could, groping in front of myself with my hands to be sure I didn't hit anything and found the wall. I placed my hands against its cool surface and inhaled deeply, preparing myself for an immense battle with gravity. I pushed my sorry corpse up with my shaking legs and found myself leaning against the wall. My breathing was the only thing I could hear, and it didn't sound so good. I spit on the floor, but I couldn't really see if it was crimson-tainted or not. If it was there, I could sure taste it.

Now, I thought to myself, I have to get out of here.

I glanced back up the stairs where I was thrown not but 7 or so minutes ago. The red light of the laundry room was peering underneath the door like an evil, slit-like eyeball. I limped over to the basement stairs and, with much difficulty, started to climb them. The staircase creaked beneath me as I ascended. I made it to the top and banged on the door with my fists. "Let me out!" I cried. I banged on the door so hard that I thought it was gonna snap right off the hinges, but unfortunately for me, the door was really thick; probably on purpose. "You stupid bitch! Let me out!!  Do you hear me?!  I said open the fucking door!" I pounded on the door, scratched at it, then gave up. Everything hurt too much to try any further, and she wasn't going to let me out. I hobbled back down the stairs and looked around for something to break the hinges. As far as I could see, mostly blackness, aside from a few silhouetted things. There was a pile of coloring books, a bible, a framed picture on the wall, and the food, water, and mattress. I knew that the coloring books and the living supplies wouldn't help me escape. I didn't even have crayons down here. A feeling of rage slowly overwhelmed me as I looked at the bible. Mom always prompted me to read this thing, but the print was too small and it was a hard read. She always told me, 'When you're in need, give the bible a read'; that God would always be there in my time of need. Well, where are you now? Why aren't you here now?? How is your stupid book going to help me now?! I hated it then, and as of right now, the book was at my mercy. I limped over to it, picked it up, and hurled it at the framed picture on the wall. I heard the glass shatter and dance around on the floor, then-

I felt it.

It was like a release of air. I looked at the place on the wall where the picture was, and limped over to it. As I drew closer, I felt a calm, pleasantly cool breeze. "H-Huh?" I whispered aloud. I hobbled over to the breezy area, and saw that the 'painting' wasn't a painting at all, but it was a window. That's right! How could I have forgotten? When I was a kid I always dreamt of using that window to run away to the circus or to Disneyland. I imagined becoming a clown or a Disney character, like a princess. When I was a kid, I thought that's how it worked. I peered out the window, but I was too short to see anything on the ground outside of it. I saw the side of my house, and my mother's window sitting on it like a giant yellow eye, watching the outside like some kind of security camera. I was almost too afraid to leave because of it, but I knew I had to get back to Matt. I turned away from the window frantically and excitedly, adrenaline causing my limp to vanish. I couldn't believe I had found a way out of this place! I looked around for stuff to stand on; stuff that would make up for the height I lacked so that I could squeeze through the little window. I felt like I was living a messed up version of Alice In Wonderland, you know, the part where she has to squeeze through that little door? That was my favorite part of the movie, and I'd KILL for one of those shrinking-cake things. I grabbed the coloring books, the water case, the canned foods, the mattress, and the bible, then piled them near the window. I also grabbed the can opener from the cup of kitchen utensils. I went back over to the window and held the can opener up. I opened it up and started using it to smash the remaining glass shards away from the window frame. When I was done, there were still some shards in places I couldn't reach with the can opener, so I picked them away with my hands. My fingers bled like faucets, but at least my torso wouldn't get sliced up. I began to stack stuff beneath the window. Mattress first because it was the sturdiest thing, then the coloring books, then the water. I stepped one foot on the water and tried to climb up, but the bottles slipped from underneath me and I was sent tumbling. I smacked against the cement for the second time tonight. I groaned and held my head, but sat right back up. I knew that when I got out, I'd be able to see Matt again. Picking myself up, I re-stacked the coloring books and the bottles, but the coloring books were on top this time. When I stood up on them they didn't crumble, but I still wasn't high enough to get out. I glanced around, and finally my eyes fell upon the bible. I slid down from my stack of stuff ad picked it up. I placed it on top of the stack, and stood on it. I was finally high enough to pull myself up! I was so happy, I blew a kiss to the book as I hoisted myself up and struggled through the window. "Thank you!" I whispered to it, and I slipped beneath my mom's window. I glanced up just in case she was looking, but the light was off. I breathed a small sigh of relief, then looked around. It was freezing outside, and it really sucked to be out there in torn-up clothes. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing Matt was there to keep me warm. Looking down the street, I started my long journey to Matt's house. As I walked, the adrenaline started wearing off quickly, and I noticed my body ached in places that I hadn't noticed before. I groaned as my walk slowed, and eventually turned into a limp. Judging by the sky, I had been stuck in the basement for a little while, and the sun would come up soon. "Maybe..." I thought aloud, as I took a few short, pained breaths, "Maybe Matt and I could watch the sunset together."  As I headed down the sidewalk, I saw that the lawns were already starting to sparkle with dew.  The crisp morning air wrapped my cuts with a lovely breeze, and when I breathed it in, it felt like the clearest air I ever breathed in my life.  I looked up into the sky again, admiring the newly forming colors.  The pink crept over the houses and painted the clouds, making them look like picked-apart cotton balls.  I closed my eyes as I walked, and whispered to no one in particular.

"I'm coming, Matt..."