Redemption

ONE I'VE BEEN DYING TO MEET

There's a box on my bed, filled with my things. Packing feels different this time. As desperate as I am to leave, I'm not running for my life. Not to mention, I have more stuff than I did when I fled Hell House. There's not much, but I only had a backpack filled with a few things, and now I'm leaving with everything Joey gave me.

Shortly after Carter left, and the house got quiet, I called Brian. With a lump in my throat, and a burn flaring through my stomach, I committed to New York. He said there's an email coming my way with flight information. When the notification came through, I marked it on my calendar. There's only a week between now and the future I want.

With every item I packed, I replayed Carter's words. I knew he'd do anything to make me choose myself. Even if it meant hurting me. Something in me wanted to believe the last few weeks meant things would be different, but I'm not sure what I expected.

He's also leaving.

So, I chose myself. I made the phone call. I'm leaving in a week.

I haven't told Fletcher.

It's something I add onto the list of things I have to do as I carry boxes down to the kitchen. Brian said they'll pay for my things to be shipped. I didn't plan on them going out so soon, but there's movers who will take it to my apartment when I get there.

I looked at pictures of the apartment. It's covered in windows. Floor to ceiling. I can see the city from every room, and the more I scrolled through the photos Brian sent, the more I understood everything was getting ready to change.

Last year, I would've told myself this was gonna happen, and I would've laughed. I didn't think I'd make it this far, but moving to New York and living in a loft above the city isn't what I expected.

As I dropped a box next to the kitchen island, I looked up and found the back door open. The silence didn't bother me earlier, but now my heart is racing, and I can hear it pounding.

"Joey? Are you home?"

I rounded the corner, finding my dad standing in the living room. My body froze. His eyes met mine and my feet planted themselves in the kitchen, watching him stalk forward without a plan to move.

"This is a nice home, Sawyer."

My hands trembled beside my thighs. I wanted to speak, but I couldn't find the words.

"I saw your brother when you guys were leaving the football game," his darkened brown eyes, hazy from alcohol, searched the walls. "He led me right to you. I followed you the whole way here, and none of you noticed."

"What are you – "

"Why didn't you go?" Something flashed in his eyes. "I didn't want to have to kill you tonight."

A shiver tore through my emotions, rippling through my body and convincing me to run. My socks slid against the hardwood, and as his fingers gripped my shoulder, I grabbed the nearest item and yanked it down. I heard glass shattering behind me. Curse words followed me up the stairs.

I felt the shards getting caught in my socks. With every step, I begged to be fast enough to get away. I could barely hear him yelling at me beyond the pounding in my ears.

I gripped the railing, hoisting myself to the top, but the breath was stolen from my lungs as his hand gripped my ankle, tugging me backward. My face smacked the stairs, and I still fought back. I continued kicking him until he slipped.

I should've run for the back door, but I'm in my bedroom, shoving a dresser against the door as he runs towards me. Sobs are leaving my mouth as his voice fills the stairwell.

"Did you think you could fucking escape me, Sawyer?"

I slapped a hand over my mouth as he pounded against the door. "Go away! Please!"

"Your face is plastered everywhere! Dating someone on a football team! How pathetic," he spat. "It didn't take long to realize where you were!"

I pushed my back further against the dresser, hoping it'd keep him away. The more I tried planting my feet, the more blood streaked from my socks. I couldn't gain position.

My eyes searched the bedroom, hoping to find my phone. Just as the wood behind me splintered, I shot for the device on my bed. My fingers could barely dial a number. Blood coated my hands. I hadn't realized how much was spilling from my nose until I looked down. Every time I tap a number, the more my phone glitches.

I tried wiping it off as he broke through the center of my door. His eyes looked up from the device in my hand, and as he ripped shards away, I tried redialing for help, but my dresser collapsed against the ground.

He reached out, snatching me by the collar of Carter's hoodie. I looked into the eyes of a man who knew he was going to kill me, and I knew better than to plead for mercy. I knew better than to beg for him to stop.

I should've known. I was never getting away. I wasn't moving to New York. I wasn't going to fall in love and live happily ever after. I was going to stare into my dad's eyes as his hands wrapped around my throat, and he drained every ounce of air from my lungs.

"You took everything from me!" The blood vessels in his eyes only darkened as his voice rose. "And you thought I wouldn't be back! You stole my car – I want my fucking keys!"

"Do it," I gasped for air.

He released my throat. "What?"

"Kill me!" I cried out. "Please! Just get it over with!"

I saw the blood on his hands. I felt it all over my face. It's dripping over my clothes. It's on the white comforter and trailing on the hardwood floors. I'm back at Hell House.

"You coward!" I shoved him. "You can't do it! Can you? You can't kill me! You've threatened me my whole life! Stop being a coward and do it! Fucking do it!"

He shoved me backwards. My body collided with the ground, my head smacking off the floor. I felt the flare of pain, but the adrenaline kept my eyes open long enough to watch him grab his eyes from the bedside table.

And just as he stepped through the corridor, blackness welcomed me like an old friend. One I've been dying to see again.