Furtive

The bright blue light of my bedside clock-radio lit up the room. I glanced around. That was my room; it had been for 10 years. Although it was my room, it didn't really reflect my personality. I had always begged my mother for dark purple walls, but she had always told me that it was 'trashy' and that the current beige colour was classy. Yeah, whatever. My mother would never let me have posters either. If I had my way, band posters would be covering my walls, but no, I was left with a stupid abstract painting that was meant to be 'art'. Seriously, I think my 5 year old sister could do better. I sat upright and sighed. This was the last time I would be in my room, sleeping in my bed. It was sad in a way, but it was also a relief. I was finally getting out. I was finally going to go live the life I wanted to, and be the person I have wanted to be. My plan was good. It had some flaws and involved a lot of risks, but I really knew it would work. My phone screen lit up beside me and it displayed the reminder I had set yesterday. It was time to go, 2am. I got up ever so quietly and grabbed my backpack. I had gotten dressed before I went to bed so I wouldn't make a noise when I left. A note slipped out of my bag as I slung it over my shoulder. It was the note I had written earlier; the one that said goodbye, I love you and all that shit. It's all lies, I don't love them. I shredded up the paper in my hand, quietly of course. I wasn't going to leave them with false hope. They have been controlling me for 17 years, and now it's time to do something, something for me.