Excavate

Survive

Riley ran until his chest was on fire. Until he was lightheaded. Until his socks were shredded and his feet were too numb to feel the pain. And then he kept running, the compulsion to get somewhere safe driving each step and pump of his arms, pushing him through the wheezing breaths and unstable legs.

When he finally stopped running, he chanced a look behind him and saw only the night sky and the glow of street lights. He was alone. Safe. No one could hurt him here.

Panting heavily, hands on his knees, he surveyed where his legs and survival instinct had driven him.

The old playground was only two blocks from where he lived with his father. At least seven miles away from his mother's house. Certainly not where he expected to end up. Not that he had a wealth of places to go...

As the adrenaline drained away and his heart stopped thrumming like it was beating out of his chest, reality started to set in for Riley.

Underneath his sweatshirt and pants, he was drenched in sweat and cooling rapidly. He had no shoes and his feet were numb against the hard, frozen landscape of the park. The split skin on the back of his scalp started to throb and when he reached his hand back, his fingers came back painted with dark red, visible against the orange flow from the pavilion lights.

What now?

Survive. You have to take care of yourself Riley. You've done it before. This isn't new. You're just out of practice.

First thing he needed was shelter. Easy. He looked to the playground and the red plastic tunnel where he'd spent countless nights huddled up after his dad threw him out. There was nothing warm or comfortable about it, but it provided cover from the elements.

And with the light snowfall that started to sprinkle down, cold specks hitting his damp cheeks, Riley needed to take cover sooner rather than later.

Ignoring the shivers as cooling beads of sweat dripped down his spine, Riley crawled in the tube and curled up on his side, trying his best to cover his hands and feet, which were the quickest to freeze from previous experience.

Okay, what next?

Riley went down the laundry list of things he needed: shoes, food, warmth, water (because the park district shut off the water fountains during the winter months), first aid if his head wound didn't stop bleeding soon... none of it could be taken care of right now, not in the middle of the night while snow and wind were picking up in equal intensity.

Shelter in place. Try not to freeze. That was all he could do right now.

Which, unfortunately, left a lot of room in his head to replay arguing with his mom, yelling at her, and being shoved by Brad.

As the wintry mix pounded against the plastic tube, Riley kept reliving the scene: the cold plate of food, nearly gagging on his request to be sent away and the relief that followed when he said it, Brad's condescension, "You're acting just like your father," "You don't want me!" Brad's heavy hands on his chest and landing in a heap on the floor after his head knocked against the sharp wooden corner.

Riley swallowed back the ugly truth that was now painfully apparent as the shivering set in: he could never go back there. He had no place with his mom and her family, which he should have known before, but apparently needed to be knocked on his ass for the message to sink in.

Was there just something about him that made men lay their hands on him? Because he'd watched Brad with his actual children. How gentle and loving he was with his daughter and sons. If anyone asked him if he ever thought Brad would hurt Audrey, Matt, or Andy, Riley wasn't sure if he'd scoff angrily or laugh hysterically at the far-off notion. Brad McGrath would never hurt his kids.