On The Run

Chapter Three - "Running and Run-ins"

Chloe

I didn’t know how long I’d been running, but I could feel myself getting faint and light-headed. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink at all, and I’d been running around in circles all day long. I’d taken a break in an alley, by a dumpster, but some lady had decided to throw out her garbage through the window above, and now, I smelled disgusting.

It wasn’t like I was exactly running from anyone anymore, but I felt like if I let my guard down, then I’d reach another obstacle, so I kept running. I was out of breath, and my entire body hurt, but even that felt better than sitting in my room in complete fear, waiting for the moment when Robert would barge in to slap me around. Or worse.

The thought alone . . .

I was jogging down the sidewalk, hood on, still breathless, when I ran into someone. I heard her groan and I jumped backwards in fear. Who knew what levels of anger these Brooklyn people had?

“Sorry!” I exclaimed, hoping she’d just walk away in a huff or something.

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” she asked softly. I let my hood hang over my eyes.

“Yeah,” I whispered, stepping back slightly. I wanted to start running in the other direction, but she had pure concern in her voice, and that was a rarity for me.

“Are you sure?” she asked, trying to peer beneath my hood. I turned my head away, slightly.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Is somebody after you?” she asked. I don’t know, I thought to myself. And that was making the whole runaway experience even harder; the fact that I had no idea what was going to happen to me.

“No,” I said, slowly looking up. She sounded kind, and it was kind of rude not to look at her. Knowing my luck, she’d probably forget my face as soon as she walked off, which I hoped was going to be quite soon. She was older – looked about thirty, maybe older, and her eyes held a questioning look of mild worry.

“So, why are you running, then?” she asked, raising a brow.

From Robert.

From Steph.

From the entire world.

I felt terror course through my veins.

“I have to get home; my mom gets mad when I’m late,” I lied.

She nodded, “Okay. But . . . you should take a cab,” she said, sticking her hand in her pocket, and holding out a fifty-dollar bill, “it’s dark, and it’s not safe to be out at this time.”

I didn’t know whether I should take it. For one thing, I was starving; on the other hand, I had no idea why anyone would just hand fifty bucks out to a complete stranger. I was quite wary, but I decided to take it. I mean, really, who turns down fifty bucks when they have absolutely nothing?

“Thank you,” I said quietly, sticking it in my pocket.

“No problem,” she replied with a smile and walked off. And with that, I darted into the alley and behind the dumpsters before she could turn around and realize I was running off again, or worse, follow me.

My heart pounded in my chest, as I hoped that she wouldn’t decide to look for the stray girl. I sat by the dumpster for about a half hour, and even when I knew she’d probably already left, I sat there, frozen in the darkness. My breathing was steadier, but I was still scared that somebody might decide to take out his or her trash, and spot me hanging around.

When the ground got too uncomfortable, I stood up, and began my jog again. First thing I was going to do was to find a diner far enough away from the one that lady had walked into. I couldn’t afford to collapse and attract the attentions of passers-by, and then find myself in hospital or worse, back with Steph and Robert. All the pain and the hoping and the running and the pain – oh, the pain! – would have been for naught.