Living With Them

Living With Them (1)

Chapter 1

2:03 AM. The red numbers glare back at me, only adding to the pressure that time was slowly running out. I tear my gaze from my alarm clock and squint at my ceiling, seeing the faint glow of the glow in the dark stars my mother plastered up when I was a kid. The house is silent, except for Bert's roaring snore that shook the house.

Okay, he's completely passed out. It's now or never, Audrey.

I peel my covers away from my body and sit at the edge of my bed. I stare at my backpack and feel annoyance rush through me. Why am I taking so long. I've been dreaming of this moment for the past 5 years. What's holding me back?

Silently, I walk my way over to the backpack, while yanking on my hoodie. Slinging the backpack over my shoulder and placing a baseball cap over my messy, dark hair, I head towards the door. I knew ahead of time to fix the piercing creak of my door, so opening it was not the problem. Making my escape through the half a century old house, that groaned and gasped with each step you took was the problem.

With my shoes in hand, I place each foot carefully in the spots that I memorized to not make any noise. I probably looked like an idiot lurching about, trying to reach my destination: the door. But I didn't care.

It wasn't till I reached the last stair that I realized I was holding my breath. I breathe out slowly and place my foot down, only for it to groan under my weight.

I freeze, my body instantly turning hot and I start to sweat. I strain my ears and can't hear Bert snoring. Panic fills me as I try to figure out what to do.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he's gonna kill me. I'm so stupid why did I even try.

After what feels like five agonizing hours later, his snoring resumes. The relief that flooded through my body was nearly enough to make me pass out. The rest of the journey to the door went smoothly and soon I was out.

I thought that at the first step of freedom, a huge weight would be lifted. That I could skip my way to town with a huge smile on my face. Instead, it was quite the opposite. I felt so anxious as I jogged through the cool summer night. The only sound was my rhythmic footfalls. I felt that at any moment a sweaty hand would snatch my arm and pull me back, with the feel of a hot, moist breath fanning my neck and the stench of old booze filling my nostrils.

When I reach the nearest town, which was located about an hour from the isolated house I lived in, the faintest streaks of pink and orange were creeping across the horizon. The watch on my wrist read 6:34, the walk to town summing up to be about four hours.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me of its hollow contents. My plan was to keep walking and reach the next town over, to try to get as far away from Bert as I possibly could. The plan would just have to be put on hold for a quick breakfast break. After all, I need as much energy as I can get.

The first food place that I see open is Angel's Diner. The lights are dimmed on, with a few workers getting the place set up for the day and an older gentleman already having his morning coffee.

As I push through the door, the bell above jingles loudly, announcing my arrival. I take a seat at the stool farthest from the door, placing my backpack at my feet. A door that leads to the kitchen opens, revealing a tall, fairly muscular guy about my age.

Once he sees me, he breaks into a wide grin. His brown hair is a tangled mess, hanging over his dark eyes. Glancing at his name tag, I learn that his name is Ben.

"We never have a customer this early, except for Johnson over there. What would you like today?" he asks, pointing towards the older man at the booth when he mentions Johnson.