The Heart Above Forever

Chapter One

I exited the bathroom, dressed in a white thermal tank-top and pajama pants, the usual at-home attire. I expected no one in the house to be awake, I'd been in the bathroom reading for longer than I could remember. Anything to escape nowadays.

As it turned out, the room was lit up by lamplight, my father still at his computer staring blankly at the screen. I sighed, pausing only momentarily before making my way over to him.

"Why are you still up?" I asked him.

"I'm reading." He replied, not bothering to look me in the eye while he said it. I sighed, internally. This seemed to be the norm now, more so than the out-of-the-ordinary day when he actually went to bed with my mother.

But no.

Of course, he was here, and he was reading, which was the last thing he needed to be doing right at this moment. 

But I was done with this, it was out of my hands now. Or at least it soon would be.

"Why don't you just go to bed, Daddy?" I asked him, my voice slightly changing from harsh to innocent. I couldn't even remember the last time the word 'daddy' had even left my mouth.

Instead of replying, he simply shook his head, his eyes still glued to the dismal screen which must have been much more inviting than my face was to look at.

I shook my head at him, then headed to my room, entering and less than quietly shutting the door behind me. I wanted to sink down against the door, and drown myself in tears, but I knew I had things to do.

I looked about my room, my eyes landing on my old, weather duffel bag that I'd rescued from the depths of my closet earlier that day. I moved to grab it with a burst of confidence, one I didn't even know I still had on me. I reveled at how the bag and me had so much in common. We were both weathered, bruised, and abused. 

But right now, this bag was going to help me escape.

My eyes swept around once again, and I almost carelessly grabbed a few things to put inside. My clothes, a couple notebooks, my iPod. Anything that I would need for my escape.

Good thing I was a minimalist.

The last thing I did before I tied my old Converse up in preparation was grab a black Sharpie lying on my nightstand, waiting to draw what had become my symbol. Something that helped me through the way, seeming to lend me a helping hand when I was in the pits of despair. It was all I had left of him...

The symbol was simply, the word forever in all lower-cased letters, beneath an equally simple filled-in heart. I drew it on my hand every single day since...what happened three years ago. I won't explain now.

I tossed the Sharpie into my bag once I'd drawn my symbol, and then hoisted the now about-to-burst bag over my thin shoulders. 

It was time to go.

This time I handled my door with care, making sure my parents were both in bed. Thankfully I found that my dad had turned in, but left the humble lamp next to the computer desk shining dimmly.

"Oh well," I thought. "If the electric bill goes up, they can pay for it."

I had half a mind to turn on all the other electronic things in the room, but thought better of it. This had been my house, after all.

But not anymore.

Deciding it was best to cut all ties with a clean conscience, I headed directly across the room to the harrowed main door leading downstairs. I grasped the doorknob, turning it just enough so that the clicking noise it made when it touched the door frame was minuscule. With that, I cautiously eased the door open, bracing myself for any squeaks. In an event of sheer luck, it made no noise, and I trodded down the stairs and to the last obstacle in my way.

The door to outside.