Once the doctor said that I was free to leave the hospital, they called my dad to come and get me. He drove up to the hospital, and then drove me back home, not saying anything to me. When we got home, I got out of his truck, and went inside. I couldn't believe my eyes when I walked into my house. Nothing was there. No couch, no television, no bed, nothing. Even my room was bare. "Dad, what's going on? Where is everything?" I asked him.
"We're moving, so look through all of the junk piles in the back of the truck, and see if there's anything you want to keep because all of those piles are going straight to the dumpster," he said, throwing the beer can he just finished on the floor.
"Why? Why do we have to move?" I said, desperate to stay in Chicago where I actually knew some people that I got along with.
"The reason why is because, I don't want you trying to run away again, and then me having to shoot you. Someone could have found out that I was a child abuser, and then I would have gone to jail."
"But no one did!" I tried to reason with him.
"But someone might. I wouldn't want to go to jail again, and I really doubt you would want to, also," he said, giving me a smile, showing all of his nasty, rotten teeth. "You don't want what happened last time to happen, again, would you?"
I gulped out, "No sir..."
"Good. Besides, all of our things are in our new home," he said, heading back out to his truck.
I reluctantly followed him, and asked, "Where is our new home at?"
"It's in Albuquerque, New Mexico," he answered.
"New Mexico?! I don't want to go all the way to New Mexico!" I yelled, even though I knew I shouldn't have. He had me pinned up on the side of his truck before I could even finish what I was saying.
"What did you say, girl?" he fiercely asked.
"No-nothing, I'm sorry!" I pleaded. "New Mexico is a great place to live!"
"Thats better..." he said, as he opened the truck door with his free hand, and then threw me in the truck with the other. He slammed the door, and went around to the driver's side, and he got in, and started up the truck.
He first drove by the dump, and threw in all of the piles of 'junk' that was in the back of his truck.
Then he drove to the airport, where he got everything out of his truck, and left it in the parking lot. We went in the airport, and he went and did whatever it was he had to do to get the tickets he all ready paid for. While he did this, I sat and watched the planes, leave and come. It got pretty boring, and I ended up falling asleep. I woke up to someone jerking on my arm, and telling me, "Come on, our plane's here!"
"Okay..." I said, groggily, and stood up to walk onto the plane. While we were waiting in line to get on the plane, they were checking everyone to make sure they didn't have any guns, knives, or drugs with them. I thought that my dad would get caught since he never goes anywhere without his small pocket knife, but when he went up there, all my hopes that he would get caught disappeared when the buzzer didn't go off. I went through, and then he jerked on the collar of my shirt, so I wouldn't try to run away from him. We sat down, and waited for the plane to take off.
I was on that plane for a long time it seemed like. I had fallen asleep a few times, but was always woken up by my dad, just because he didn't want me to sleep. We finally landed when it was dark. We got off, got our things, and got a bus to go to our new home.
When we got there, the moving van was all ready there, and everything was unloaded in our house, in no specific arrangement.
"Guess who gets to unload everything?" my dad asks me, as we walk into our new house.
"Me?" I sigh.
"You guessed it!" he said. "You also get to rearrange the furniture, and if I don't like the way you have everything, then you're going to have to keep trying until I do. You better have everything finished by the time I get back!" he yells as he goes out of the door.
