An Average Girl

You Can't Keep Running

With a click of a button picture and sound surrounded me, coddling me, protecting me from the quiet. A shiver travelled down my spine causing my body to shake and goosebumps to rise on my skin. Grabbing the throw blanket from the back of the couch I wrapped myself with it, clinging to it desperately for warmth despite the fact that the house wasn't physically cold. But the coldness of the air was still seeping into my veins; it was a permanent cold that no heater could ever fix.

Glancing at the round black clock that hung on the beige wall, I read the time to be 5 o'clock. It was still too early to sleep, so I focused on the television screen once more. The show was animated, a fat father doing incredibly stupid things with an infant who kept attempting to kill his mother. How could the mother put up with all of this? Maybe they should get a divorce, did cartoons get divorces? Probably not. Oh, look a talking dog who loves literature. It figures that the only literature lover would be the family's pet, smart people aren't that entertaining. I know this show. Family Guy, I think. Yes, definitely Family Guy. Look the fat guy is so fat that you can't even see his p.enis. I wonder why p.enises don't get fat when people put on weight.

I look at the round black clock that hung on the beige wall again. It is only 6:12. Just a couple more hours and then I can go waste away in my bed instead. I focused on the television screen once more, this time the family was yellow, but the father was also fat and stupid. Is this a common thing in households, beautiful women marrying fat stupid men? I would think they could do much better; they could get so much more from their lives. Again, the idea of divorce pops into mind but a single dad raising kids is heart-warming not funny. The mother is not the character of interest, without her husband no one would care to give her a show of her own.

Hmm, their little girl is highly intelligent and she plays the saxophone. She should have more friends, being smart does not make one socially awkward or unpopular. If anything everyone should want to be her friend so they can get good grades too. Do any of her classmates plan on going to university? Probably not, but low to middle-class jobs is all they know anyways. I wonder how they afford all the alcohol and random things they buy. They have expensive tastes.

I look at the round black clock that hung on the beige wall again. It reads 7:56. One more episode then I can burrow away in my large duvet.

"Hi Sara," a deep masculine voice purred from behind me. No, it couldn't be. I jolted from my position to face the intruder. A familiar defined chin and slightly crooked nose stared back at me in amusement. He was leaning against the wooden frame of the entrance separating the kitchen and living room with his arms casually crossed in front of him. This was my worst nightmare, standing right in front of me as if he hadn't already broken me. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? He took a small step forward, the slight movement all I needed to shock me into action. I retreated further away till my back was almost pressed against the damned television set. I contemplated running for the door, but we were both equally close to it and I couldn't guarantee he wouldn't catch me. It was always worse when I ran anyways.

My fingertips began to tingle from all the adrenaline coursing through my body. This was my fight or flight instinct kicking in and I was caught in the middle unsure of which to listen to. But I couldn't keep running, not when it was so easy for him to hunt me down. "What are you doing here," I asked but the real question I wanted answered was what he was going to do to me this time. What more he wanted from me.

"Oh Sara, didn't you get my letter? I told you I'd be paying you a visit". He shrugged a burnt red backpack off of his shoulder and my eyes zeroed in on it, it was bulging slightly, filled to the brim with mystery and fear. I held his gaze once more, my voice shrinking every second I continued to stare. "None of that matters now because tonight is about you and me," his voice was smooth and sultry like he was trying to romance me on a date, but all I wanted was to puke.