The Run~Volume 2 ©2015 Sydney Wray

-1- Escape

©2015 Sydney Wray

I packed hurriedly; shoving toiletries, clothes, and other essentials into my small bag, I swiped the mysterious five hundred dollar check off my hinged bed. Checking my phone time, it read 5:51 through the cracked screen. 

Exactly nine minutes until my foster mother was back from work. 

With trembling fingers and a rapid heartbeat to add to the stress, I raced out of the cramped bedroom and down the steps.  Throwing open the door to the file room, I swiped my prepped file I had noticeably pulled out an inch hours before, and snatched my passport from the inside. Biting my lip, I blinked at my file. Taking an unplanned risk, I shoved the inestimable papers into my bag along with the passport. It was 5:53; seven minutes.

"What are you doing?"

I whirled around, breathing hard from adrenaline, and eyed my fellow age-ranged foster brother. "Pretend you didn't just see that."

Ben ran a hand through his red hair, eyebrows raised analytically. "Only if you tell me where you're going."

I checked the time -- 5:56. "Ben. Please."

He squinted, unconvinced.

The front door suddenly opened within hearing range, followed by clanging of keys and her exhausted breathing.

I looked at Ben with wild eyes.

Ben pursed his lips, whispering, "Don't say I never did anything for you."

With that, he strolled out of the doorway and to the front door. His loud warning tone ricocheted as he engaged in pointless conversation to help pass the time.

I thew my backpack on my back, peeking out the door. He had managed to turn her the opposite way so her back was facing me.

His glance flickered to me for a split second, as if screaming now! I quickly retaliated, and crept down the hallway to the back door. Four steps, and I'd be into the outside world of New York City. Two steps, and I kept my ears strained for his continues conversation. I reached the door and without a glance back, I took a breath and pushed it open. Stepping out into the semi-darkness, I took off at a cutting run along the house I'd known since I was fourteen.

~

I walked along the dark street of the city, happy to be free of the restricted environment. Nothing seemed better, to be honest. My escape plan was complete. Passport-check. Money-check. Tampons? I bit my lip, not sure if I had remembered.

My steps fell short, and  I found myself staring wide eyed at the TV behind the glass screen of the store. It was on NYnews, and a picture of me was plastered onto the screen; a man talked in a grim way beside my picture.

I pushed open the doors of the store and stopped to stare at the screen inside. A bald TV reporter held a microphone to his mouth as he stood outside of my foster house.

"Well, it looks like we have a foster runaway," he said, taking a deep breath, "Disappearing shortly after an hour ago, the seventeen year-old female was reported missing along with her passport and clothing. The police have informed us that this was no kidnapping."

I spotted Deborah, my foster mother, talking to a policeman in the background.

"Dark-haired, green eyed and standing at a height of five-six, Blair Richman is still reported missing. If you have any information, please don't hesitate to call or be on the lookout for this young, troubled lady."

I nearly rolled my eyes. Troubled? Hardly. I looked around but the manager of the candy store had barely batted an eye in my direction. Still, that didn't stop impending others. I tucked my hair into a low bun, some strands escaping, and pulled the hood over my head.

Making a beeline for the door, I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with surrounding people.

I had to make it to the train station.

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Hello reader:) Either you're a returning reader of my first volume, or a even a new one-great! Follow Blaire's journey;) Have a wonderful day, my lovelies. ~xx

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"I do everything I think possible or acceptable to escape from this trap." ~Jacques Derrida.