Jumping Trains (Short Story)

Jumping Trains

Author Note: I chose picture number four for this.

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Run… I tripped over my own feet but managed to catch myself. I continuously looked back. Is he following me? I barely missed an enormous oak tree in my path. Stumbling to the side, I continued on, my breath coming in quick, short gasps. The autumn leaves crunched beneath my feet. There was a slight chill in the air and yet my shoulders were bare, my strapless dress blowing in the breeze.

I rounded the bend in the path and pushed my legs forward. Just a little further, I thought. The railroad tracks were in sight. I slowed to a walk as I reached the edge of the tracks. This was my only means of escape. The ear shattering whistle of the train sounded. My salvation finally arrived…but how did I get here? How did I get to this point of no return?

* * * Earlier * * *

It was my sixteenth birthday and yet there was no celebrating. He didn’t remember and I didn’t remind him.

“Good morning,” I said, passing by the kitchen.

“Come here,” he ordered.

I groaned internally. Turning back the way I came, I entered the kitchen.

“What’s with the dress?” he asked.

I looked down at the strapless dress I pulled on this morning. It was my favorite dress and I bought it especially for my birthday. The pink skirt brushed against my legs as I fidgeted. I couldn’t think of a lie.

“It’s my birthday,” I said quietly.

“Oh yeah? Happy birthday,” hereplied with a slow smile.

That smile, the kind of smile that said “oops I forgot”, the kind of wretched smile that said “you’re so unimportant that I didn’t remember your birthday”. I hated it. Swallowing my disgust and switching my bag to the other shoulder, I informed him where I’d be the rest of the day.

“Be home for dinner.”

“I’ll try,” I said, moving towards the door.

“I mean it.”

“Yes dad,” I said.

I escaped out the door without my jacket. Benson would be waiting for me a block away. I can make it there without the jacket, I thought. I ran down the street, my flats scraping against the concrete. The trees were dying, preparing for their winter slumber. An orange leaf twirling towards earth caught my eye. I caught it before it could hit the ground and took it with me.

“Sorry I’m late,” I gasped, hopping into Benson’s car.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Benson replied. He leaned towards me and kissed me slow and sweet. “Happy birthday,” he whispered.

Even after going through two birthdays with him by my side, I still shivered at the way he wished me a happy birthday. I was glad he still had that effect on me.

Benson was only a year older than me but sometimes I felt like a kid around him. Maybe it was because he had a car and I didn’t or because I was the one going around and picking up leaves. He noticed the tiny plumage in my hand and laughed.

“Is that what you secretly wanted for your birthday because I can totally return this ring and go pick up a leaf?” he asked, handing me a velvet box.

“I’ll take the ring!” Igiggled enthusiastically.

He put it on for me and I thanked him a million times. Starting the car, he drove us to the End of The Year Fair. We spent hours there, riding rides and eating cotton candy. I loved every minute of it but the faster time flew by the more I wished I wouldn’t have to go home. When we arrived back at my house around nine Benson insisted on walking me to the door. I begged him not to, pleaded with him, but he wouldn’t listen. He said it was time my father knew about us.

“I’m tired of having to hide a block away and have you run to me whether it’s raining or snowing. I’m tired of having to have to see you behind your father’s back. I’m also tired of you never telling me where you get those bruises from,” he said, eyeing the purple little monster on the inside of my wrist.

“Benson, please, go home. I’ll call you.”

“No. Not this time Ashton. Your dad is going to know about us.”

“He can’t know!” I blurted. “It’ll ruin everything. Just trust me.”

Benson was quiet. I wasn’t expecting the next thing he said. “He’s hurting you.” I opened my mouth to protest but he silenced me. “If he isn’t hurting you then tell me where your bruises come from. You don’t play sports, you’re not clumsy enough to fall down every single day, and you’re too confident to be doing this to yourself.”

“…Just go home,” I breathed, taking my hand out of his. I turned to the front door and unlocked it. “Goodnight Benson.”

I opened the door and went inside, not daring to look back. I couldn’t bear to see the hurt look on his face but I wasn’t supposed to tell. I’d get worse if I told anyone. I would suffer in silence until the day I turned eighteen. Then I’d run away and take Benson with me.

“Where have you been?”

My father’s voice sounded from the kitchen. Oh crap! I forgot about dinner!

“I was…”

“Don’t lie to me Ashton Marie!” he bellowed.

I approached the kitchen cautiously. Just as I had expected, bottles of liquor were strewn carelessly across the floor. He had been drinking…again. I braced myself. I knew what was about to happen.

“Dad I’m sorry,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

The chair he was sitting in flew violently across the room. I screamed, startled. My dad stumbled towards me with the half empty bottle in his hand. The smell of alcohol wafted off his breath and clothes.

“You were with a boy weren’t you?” he asked, his bloodshot eyes daring me to say yes. “Weren’t you?”

“No…”

“You thought since it’s your birthday you should go out and lose your virginity huh?” Before I could respond, he cocked back the bottle and sent it flying into my cheekbone. “Little slut!”

My body hit the ground with such a force I was afraid I’d fall through the floorboards. My cheek throbbed and I could tell I was already crying. So much for bracing myself. He was spewing a mountain of curse words my way but I barely heard them. I was floating in and out of consciousness. It hurts… I rolled over and watched as the front door burst open and Benson came in. He saw me on the floor and ran to me.

“I told you to leave,” I cried, when he knelt beside me.

“I’m glad I didn’t,” he rebuffed.

He stroked my head lovingly. I feebly pushed him away, knowing my dad was watching. I looked back to the kitchen where my dad still held that cursed bottle. He crossed over to us in two strides and took a swing at Benson. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were fighting, hurting each other and it was because of me. I screamed for them to stop but they wouldn’t listen. When my dad used his pocket knife to stab Benson I slammed my fists onto his back, screaming for him to stop. He turned on me next, the knife gleaming in his hand. Then, I ran.

* * *

Just a few more seconds and the train would be here. I stood in its path, arms outstretched. Take me away.

“Five…four…three…” The light shone into my eyes and I closed them. “Two…On—”

THE END… ?