Fate is a Funny Thing

I'm Gone

It's sixteen minutes past three and I am pacing back and forwards in my room.

I know I have no proof, but I am positive that Axel hit Amy that night. The very thought of living in the same house as him terrifies me. It didn't look like it was the first time either, otherwise, Amy would have been a lot more shaken up when she returned to the party. She probably would not have returned at all.

That is not the only thing that bugs me. Axel lied to my mum about where Ryan is. Mum has this whole thing worked out in her head, based on the idea that she knows their family. If he has been lying to her, the chances are she does not know them at all.

Then there is Ryan. He left home. Left his parents. Just like that. Apparently, he didn't even take anything with him. I know it is ridiculous, but I cannot stop comparing it to the situation with my father. He left us, just like Ryan left his family. There is no way in hell I will ever agree to marry someone with such little regard for his actions. I don't even want to know him, forget marrying him.

I mean if he ran away, then there isn't a problem. No Ryan means no marriage.

Yes, but what if he comes back. He left with nothing, he would have to return sooner or later.

Urgh.

I plop back down on my bed. Ever since the party, I have been adamant that I will not go ahead with mum's, and apparently, Axels, plan. Over Christmas, all I have done is try to convince her that it is a stupid idea, but I have had no luck. Once her mind has been made up, there is no changing it. I think about what she said to me last night as tears of anger roll down my cheek.

'You either do as I say, or you can leave here!'

'You don't get to live under my roof and disobey everything I say!'

'I've raised you your whole life and this is how you repay me!'

'If you want to do whatever you want, fine, but don't do it in my house!'

I sigh and wipe away the tears, finally making my decision.

Okay dearest mother, you want me gone? I'm out of here!

I wipe away the tears more furiously and stand up. Pulling out my gym barrel bag and a backpack, I shove some clothes and shoes in the gym bag and then in the backpack I put in some cash, my passport and a couple of other small bits and pieces and then put a jacket on the top. Looking around to make sure I have everything I would need, I pick up my iPhone and remove the SIM card, replacing it with a new one I got just before Christmas.

Yes, I am going extreme. I have to save myself from this disaster of a family.

And let's get one thing straight. I'm not doing this to hurt anyone, or for selfish reasons. I'm doing it to protect myself. It is not the same as my dad. Nor Ryan.

Slipping my bags on, I pull on my coat and trainers and switch the light off in my room. I creep out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. Padding down the stairs, I hear the faint sound of the TV in my mother's room as she watches her favourite show. Dynasty. Obviously. Creeping to the front door and opening it gently, I sneak out and close it behind me lightly.

Then I run.

No-one is chasing me, but I run.

My heart is racing as I run through the gates at the bottom of the driveway and out onto the streets. As I walk down, I try to control my breathing as the adrenalin pumping through my veins makes me start to panic slightly. A part of me wants to turn back but I cannot. If I take after my mother in any way, it is that I am just as stubborn as she is. Perhaps more.

Suddenly I realise I have no idea where to go. I don't know my way around New York, like I said, I am a hermit. Abandoning trying to control my breathing, I realise I don't t even know where I am going. It is dark and I start to get very paranoid.

Breathe Acecia, breathe.

"What are you staring at?" a random man yells at me in the street. Stumbling backwards with wide eyes, I suspect that the man is probably drunk, and I should get away from him as soon as possible. I wonder why there are so many people out at this time but then I realise that it is four in the morning on the 31st December, so it is technically New Year's Eve, or it will be later in the evening. People are probably out partying and getting drunk and will most definitely do the same tonight.

Realising I am heading into what looks like the sketchier part of the city, I tense up and clutch my bags closer to my body as if they are a form of protection. For some reason, I fear breathing too loudly in case it attracts the attention of dodgy people. I still have no idea where I am going or where I should go. Finally deciding to check in to the first hotel I see, I start to look for road signs that lead towards a hotel. With my mind so immersed in finding a hotel to stay at, I almost don't notice when I hear footsteps behind me, approaching me. My heartbeat increases along with my footsteps and I start to mentally panic. Looking around for somewhere to go, somewhere with more people, I clock that the streets are dead, and I am alone.

Seeing red, I start to run again. Whoever is following me starts to run too. Running down the street, I hear the footsteps gaining on me and I turn off the road and mistakenly run into an alleyway. A dead end.

Breathing heavily in fear I spin around and face him. He looks like he is around 35 years old wearing all black clothes and a grey bandana. I resist the urge to gag at how he reeks of alcohol and something else that I do not recognise.

Shit, I am going to die!

Why the hell did I leave home? What on earth was I thinking?

"You look scared," the man smirks, with a disgusting glint in his eyes.

"Back off, you don't want to mess with me," I say as boldly as I can.

"Yeah," he challenges, "or what?" I rack my brain for something to say but deep down know it is no use. I am a goner. He slowly advances towards me, causing the tension to increase.

Then he pounces, forcefully seizing my wrists and pinning me against the wall. He drives his knee into my stomach as I struggle in his grip, knocking the wind out of me. I gasp for air, which he takes as an opportunity to throw his fist at my face, beating me to the ground.

He punches me again and again as I lay on the ground screaming. I kick out repeatedly in an attempt to get him off me. Catching him off guard, he stumbles back but then regains his composure and attacks me even harder. He sits on me, holding my arms firmly in place with his upper body.

His hands clamp down on my pants and he starts to pull them down. I scream so loud that my voice breaks. I struggle more violently and harder than ever before.

This is not happening. This is not happening.

"Hey!" a voice shouts from the other end of the alley.

"Oh my god!" says another more feminine voice.

"What the hell...?" yells another voice, different from the first.

"GET OFF HER!" they all shout in unison.

What I assume is a trio of footsteps, comes towards us and suddenly the weight of my attacker is lifted from me and beaten to the ground by two very huge looking men. I scramble to the opposite side of the alleyway and pull up my pants, still shaking in fear. My breathing is coming out heavy and fast, tears are streaming down my face, and my face and upper body are badly bruised.

The woman crouches down beside me, with a warm, concerned smile. She helps me to my feet and speaks, "everything is okay now, you're safe."

Kicking the attacker a few more times, the men look down at him as he groans in pain and then look back at their friend and me. Their breaths are heavy and angry and the shorter one of the two clenches his fists a couple of times. I cannot see their faces clearly but then again, the pain from being punched everywhere multiple times burns through my body so strongly that I start to feel really weak and limp.

"Let's get her out of here," the taller man says.

And then I pass out.