Rolling Stone Savior. (Discontinued)

Chapter One

I lied in bed, my back uncomfortably curled from the hard springs of the mattress. I was tracing the bruises along my arms and blinking back tears. I just want to know why.

Why do they beat me? Why do they treat me like this? I didn’t do anything to my mother or my father, yet they’ve been treating me like shit since I was born. My father makes it his business to come in every day and beat me senseless, and my mother stands by to make degrading comments. At first, it drove me crazy. I would cry, I would get angry, I would even want to die. But now, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve grown tired of it.

All I feel is confusion and numbness.

Daddy’s cigarette smoke floated into my room, and the television’s volume got louder from the living room. I could imagine the two of them in the living room—Daddy with a cigarette lingering a few inches away from his lips, and a half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table in front of him. He was probably watching some sitcom from the 70’s. Ma was probably sitting on the couch across from him, painting her nails hot pink…

Those hot pink nails haunted my sleep every night. Before she went to bed, Ma would always come in my room to give me the finger. And because Daddy knew of my insomnia, he would come in and shove my head beneath the sheets and say, “Go to sleep; and hopefully, you might not wake up.” Then with a chuckle, he would leave.

This is how it happened every night, and it would be like that tonight, too. It was early in the morning, so I had a few hours before that routine. Around this time, I usually would have already dug around in the oven for the remnants of the previous night’s dinner that Ma and Daddy shared. I didn’t even bother this morning, though.

I just let them beat me and stayed in the room, wondering over and over…Why.

I had my Biology textbook in my lap, but I wasn’t reading it. I probably wouldn’t finish my homework in time for Monday. I’ve been trying to epically fail in school, so that they would give up on me and kick me out. I’m tired of using makeup to cover up the bruises every day for school. I might as well sit at home and do nothing rather than getting some worthless education.

“Stephanie?” Ma roughly called. My heart started to pound just a little bit faster. I didn’t answer her—I could hear her swift footsteps coming down the hall. She suddenly burst through my room’s door.

“Are you deaf or are you dumb? Answer me, idiot!” She demanded.

“Y-yes Ma?” I stuttered, struggling to look into her raging eyes.

“Your father and I have to go. Work is calling. We’ll be back soon, and don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone. Oh, and you’re father’s pistol is in his drawer. Do all of us a favor and just pull the trigger to your head, will you?” She chuckled at the last part, and then left. I heard them pick up their keys, and then the door finally shut.

I was alone. The house was quiet.

I slammed the Biology book shut and went back to the window to watch them get in the car and drive away. They’re real estate agents, so they probably have houses to sell. I gazed thoughtfully out into the neighborhood. It was only a few hours before noon, so things weren’t necessarily busy outside. The streets had no cars, and there were few pedestrians.

Ma’s last words echoed in my brain.

Do all of us a favor and just pull the trigger to your head, will you?

She was right. I’d be doing them a favor, and I’d really be doing myself a favor. All of this would be over. I wouldn’t have to ask myself ‘why’ anymore. I would truly be resting in peace…

Out of growing curiosity, I left the window to travel to Daddy’s bedroom. I knew all too well where the gun was. The first drawer of the bedside table on the left side of the bed. I slowly walked over to it, the floors creaking beneath my feet. Soon enough, I made it over to the drawer.

With a swallow, I pulled it open quickly, took the gun, and pushed it back closed. I could tell it was loaded. I flipped it around in my hands a few times.

It’ll be so easy, right? Just pull the trigger, and everything about you will be gone. That simple.

I held it to my left temple. The barrel was cold against my skin, sending chills and goose bumps throughout my body.

Hurry up, Stephanie.

Pull. The. Trigger.

Just as I was about to completely blow my brains out, I let go of the gun. A new realization had come over me.

Both of my parents were gone.

That hadn’t happened in a while. They would usually leave one at a time, maybe to make sure I didn’t burn their house down. But they were both gone. I was by myself. This warranted for so many new opportunities.

I didn’t have to kill myself. I could make all my problems go away in a different way.

I could leave.

I put the gun back where I found it and left the room. I walked into the living room, and reluctantly sat down on the couch. I was only there because I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere outside of my room under normal circumstances.

I went over my thoughts…running away seemed like such a good idea. But it was also really iffy, only because I had never done it before. I could have run away in the middle of the night at any time, but I didn’t. There had to be a reason for that.

Maybe it was because I was scared of getting caught.

But they’re not here now.

I thought about this over and over, going over the consequences. Not only would I be able to ditch this sad, cold life, but I would actually experience some sort of fun. It was good all around.

That’s when I went in my room, emptied all the books out of my bag, and started packing. I packed a sweater, two tampons, one pair of underwear, and a little notebook I use to write down my homework. I figured I could write a memoir during my journey. So if someone found me dead, they would get to read all about my messed up life.

I went back to Daddy’s room, opened the drawer, and put his pistol in my bag. I knew I would need money, and I knew my parents had money. I just never learned the combination for the safe where they kept their cash.

I had no time to guess, either. I ran to the toolbox in the kitchen and grabbed a hammer. I came back to the bedroom and swung at the safe a few times. The clashing sound of metal was starting to scare me, but it didn’t go on for much longer. I managed to bend the door enough for me to rip it off. There were stacks upon stacks of money wrapped in rubber bands. I took three of them and ran back to my room.

I wasn’t missing anything. I had already put on my only jacket and my only pair of green Nike sneakers. Just for precaution, I stuffed one of Ma’s hats in my jacket pocket. Then I looked around the house one last time before I walked out the door. If Ma and Daddy, or spies they hired, were outside waiting for me, I would just have to deal with it. It was now or never.

I left the house. I left everything behind. I walked out into the refreshing air of my little part of the Bronx, and sighed. My heart was ready to jump out of my chest. This was the most drastic thing I’ve ever imagined doing, but I was doing it. I pushed myself to walk away, block by block, to my unknown destination.

I was leaving.