Unsound Minds (Anthology)

Run Away!

"Run Away!"

My head turned to notice a boy, with his arms crossed, staring at me rather intently. I looked around to see whether there was anyone else around but there was none.

I gestured to myself and asked, "Were you talking to me?"

He nodded. Grabbing my hands, he stared into my eyes while uttering words I wish I could follow. "Run away from your home!"

I shrugged him off and walked away. What was his problem? It was the very first time a person from school exchanged words with me, but I don't need anyone! I am fine. Just my mom and I. I'm completely fine.

"Willow, I saw it," He whispered softly, still gazing into my eyes that I felt uncomfortable so much so I had to look away. "The sight of your mother consuming alcohol excessively, behaving strangely or looking spaced out all the time and then, all of a sudden beating you up so severely." My heart lurched at his words that I almost turned deaf to what he said next. "I don't want you to suffer, Willow."

The thought of a classmate prying into my family matters seethes me. I don't need anyone's help! I'm fine with just mom and myself! Before running away, away from the biter truth, I brutally pushed him off the slide.

Serves you right.

I was prepared the next day. He might have filed a complaint, or would probably just not talk to me. Calmly, I sat down on my seat. Classes started, teachers warned us that the third grade will be more difficult than the second grade,  lunch coupons were distributed to everyone....except me since well, I haven't donated any money. Just the norm.

Except that guy was absent.

I started to get tensed. My palms broke out in cold sweat, frequently I wiped it off with my dirty, torn handkerchief. The sound of the clock ticking away was lout but rather slow, as if trying to synchronize with my heart beats. When finally school ended, I ran to the old playground where I had pushed him over the slide.

Dashing to the playground, I frantically searched the place where I had shoved him off. Nothing but snow filled the place. My vision blurred with tears at the thought that I might have killed him. What if he had not returned home? What if he had been buried under the heap of snow? If I am arrested, will my mom get arrested too?!

"Please don't die," My voice squeaked as I desperately dig up the snow with my bare hands.

"Like I thought, you really are a good girl."

My heart skipped a beat at the familiar voice. Turning around, I saw the same boy with a mask covering his mouth, covered in piles of sweaters. 

He silently walked over to me and handed me a pair of gloves. "Your hands will get cold."

"I knew it was intentional that he didn't ask me why my clothes were so light in this chilly winter. He probably knew that woolen clothes are nothing but just a hopeless wish for me. 

My hand smacked away those gloves. Was he being sympathetic? "I don't need 'em." I don't need anyone's pity!

Last night, my thoughts were filled with how to erase the witness who knew my mother was into drugs. Should I convince him? No, that might not work concerning I don't trust him. Black mail him? But there is nothing to threaten him with. Or just....kill him?

Ah, that's right. My family will break into shambles if the fact that she did drugs came to the public. In order to erase the proof, silencing him appeared to be the only way.

"You know, you should come over. My mom made some nice, hot Chicken soup this morning," He suggested. "Come over. You can even stay if you want to."

This is my golden chance! To think that my prey will call his predator into his own home. Pretty naïve, he is. I will grab any sharp objects around a pierce it through his heart. He would die, right? Which means, mom won't be found out....right?

I told myself that I should have decided on killing him earlier. Then, I wouldn't even bother to check on him just now.

I nodded my head. I was dragged to his home. A small house it was, but way, way better than my home, warmer than my home. His mom greeted me and requested to wait patiently for the time being so that she could heat up the soup and prepare other dishes.

"Willow," He said, gently. "You are always tortured in that house, aren't you? Why aren't you escaping? It's not like your mom loves you anyway."

I slapped him across his face. "My mom loves me!"

His hand slowly touched the red mark on his cheek. He flinched from the hurt but he did not keep his eyes off me. "It's not just once," He explained, in a voice gentler than before. "I have seen it happening a number of times. You are like a princess trapped in a tower, all chained to your mother. That's Rapunzel, isn't it?"

Was he stalking me?

"Oh, so my son is trying to be Flynn Ryder in his own way," His mom said as she suddenly arrived with an apron in her hands. She observed the mark on his cheek and then simply stared at me for a little while. But surprisingly, no comments. This family is just far too kind.

"Mom," He replied, stressing the m syllable at the end. His mom answered with, "Yes?"

"It's Eugene Fitzherbert."

His mom chuckled and then, invited me for dinner. I could not grapple with this warmth they showed. I asked to excuse myself to the restroom just to escape this. I did not want to have a change of heart. This was my cue to take the knife from the adjacent kitchen. My trembling hands hid the knife inside my shirt before heading to their dining table.

His mother came over and patted my head, the warmth tingling down my spine. I wonder if his mom knows about the drugs too? Will I have to erase the both of them? My hands unconsciously felt the knife hidden in my shirt.

"Here," His mother said, as she laid out the dishes. "I might have made a little too many, since this is the first time Alex brought over a girl." 

I wordlessly looked at the hot and fresh meal before me. An enormous serving of rice and other stuff those names I am not so familiar with., a soup next to it, an entrée and even a hors-d'oeuvre...Things that I have only seen in pictures.

The image of the food my mom comes up with flashed through my mind. Usually, two coins on the table or a note attached that there would be no food. On lucky days, I might be able to get a stale piece of bread.

The warmth from Alex's family caused stinging in my eyes. Taking out the knife hidden in my shirt, I silently placed it on the table. The muted cries slowly turned into wails as Alex's mother caressed my head with kindness, perhaps even love.

Admist all this, I felt a familiar warmth when he placed his hand over mine, which was stained by tears. Alex's other hand wiped my tears and cupped my cheeks. He stared at me intensely, seriousness radiating from his eyes.

"Trust me," He said, in a gentle voice that might even soothe the wildest beasts of beasts. "We will help you."