They call her Zero

Chapter 1 ~ Escape

Fumbling through the dark, i felt my worn out shoes. I slipped them one as silently as i could. I slung my bag over my shoulder and head for my door. I am going to get out of here. I flipped on the light. I slid my eyes to the broken mirror. My same bright
piercing, thirteen year old gold eyes stared back at me. My grandma used to say she saw deep pools of imagination and curiosity in my eyes. All I saw was weakness and fear. I felt
ashamed. My grandma wasn't here to protect me now. My mom was gone, too. My lunatic father killed her. I used to see her in my sleep. Falling in the same blackness and hitting nothing. Reaching out to grab anything, and grasping nothing. I can't
breath and gasp for air. Until I finally fall I see my mother. Watching me. Always watching me. When she tries to speak, the words won't form. She can't speak. Her throat is slit. Blood
trickles from her throat. I wake up. Still looking in the mirror, I see
my coal black hair that fell down my shoulders and flooded my back in tangles. One dozen of the broken pieces reflected the puffy, bloody cheek. I looked away. I felt a wet droplet slip down my cheek and fall on my filthy shirt. I looked to my makeshift bed and smiled and slightly tilted my head. "I won't dare leave you" I looked at my stuffed tiger i named Hope. Because i filled it with
all my hope that i knew i never had. My mom gave it to me when i was born. It used to be white, but now it’s light brown, the years haven’t been kind. Small, darker brown splash marks are on him. I huffed. My blood. I picked him up and opened my door. As light flooded the hallway, I looked at the stairs. I felt a sudden guilt
leaving the house my mom died. Maybe soon, we would be together. I started pacing down stairs. My dad’s silent snore filling the empty air. Tip toeing down the stairs, I made it to the
last step. Pressing my toes on it, the board slightly moved. I smiled. My stash. I lifted it up and slid my hand under it. Pulling pieces out one by one. My small sack of food, a water bottle, and finally my mother’s journal. Etched with years, it was still
beautiful. I ran my hands over it, like many times before. Closing
my eyes, I imagined her sitting down, writing by a lamp while watching her own hand flow over the page. Smiling and happy in her own paradise. But no, it wouldn’t be that beautiful, would it? In reality, my mother would be sitting there in tattered clothes,
crying. Staining the page with her tears, while she looked up at a mirror and saw blood drip from her lip. Fastly writing before he found her. So I could have a made up image of her. Or maybe, it was her eye that was bruised or bloody. I close my eyes and dip my head slightly. I need to have better images of her. Not the corrupted one that my father would love. He would smile at the thought of damaging my mind. I opened my eyes as I heard his bed creak. As if weight was being lifted. I darted my eyes to the door, and soon my feet followed. I looked over my shoulder one last time. The house that built me. The house that broke me. Right before i’m about to turn to leave, my father opened his door. “No!” He starts stumbling down the steps. I grab for the door knob. It’s locked. My shaky hand clutches the dead bolt. “Kara! I swear to god if you leave this house!” I swing open the door just as he reaches out to grab me. I start sprinting down the road. I hear my dad slam the door. But not with him behind it. He runs to the car and swings open the door. I know there is a gas station 2 blocks from here. My mother talked about it in her journal, just in case something happened like this. I rounded the corner. And kept running. I felt my legs start to falter. Half way. Then I heard wheels squeal. Not close, but not far. I picked up
my paste. Running harder than I ever have. The gas station was in view. Today is the day I finally escape. Today is the day I am free.