I feel myself slowly coming to, a few minutes after getting "the ring" for the first time. I truly never thought that my parents would go through with it. I get up, noticing my face is in agony. I put some ointment on it for pain relief and to reduce the swelling. As I stare at my beaten-down reflection, it makes me sad. I almost don't recognize myself. I never thought that I'd become this battered. The girl in my mirror looks more like a lost puppy from a shelter, desperate to be rescued, to be saved.
I then make the impulsive decision that I should've made years ago. I need to run away. There's nothing left for me now, and I need to search for a better life than this. Today's events proved to me that I don't need anyone, except myself.
I dump my suitcase on the floor, emptying it of the clothes and toiletries that I had originally packed for my trip. I change into a new outfit of black leggings, a T-shirt, a hoodie, a windbreaker and some sneakers. I then empty my backpack, to pack some minimal toiletries, granola bars, my water bottle and an extra set of clothes in the main pouch. In the smaller pockets I pack my wallet, first aid kit, pocket knife and flashlight, with a change of batteries that I found lying around my room.
My heart is racing as I prepare for this, as a feeling of excitement, mixed with nausea, rushes over me. I put on some makeup over my eye wound, which hurts badly even to the slightest touch. After a minute of painful application, flinching through, I'm all covered up.
I grab my phone off my dresser and my backpack off the floor as I leave my bedroom for what I hope is to be the last time. I can't go through the hall, so I have to sneak out through my window. I lock my door, before taking one last glance around the room. The map on my wall catches my eye. I don't care where I end up, as long as it's out of here, I tell myself.
My window is already open from the last time I snuck through it. Bracing myself, I throw my bag out first, before jumping out and landing more steadily. I get up from the bushes and dust myself off, before looking more closely at my broken childhood house. I turn away, before quickly taking one last glance at the place I've suffered in for years. Taking a deep breath, I put my backpack on and begin walking down my street.
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I've been walking for about ten minutes, until I begin heading through town. I see my reflection in a window, before realizing that I should change my appearance in order to run away successfully. I can't risk anybody recognizing me, no matter how many people would pretend that I'm invisible.
I head to the dollar store, looking for hair dye. After looking through several isles, I find a cheap bottle of brown hairspray. Perfect. Without anyone seeing me, I sneak it in my backpack and leave the dollar store.
I go to a dark alley down the street and turn on my phone. Using it as a mirror, I begin to spray my blonde hair, turning it a chestnut brown colour. I spray for several minutes, slightly coughing at the smell and pushing through the increasing neck pain. Using my flashlight and my camera for help, after fifteen minutes, I've gotten every part of my hair.
I don't know where to go next, but I have one last stop I want to make. The Stoneycreek Diner closes at nine o'clock, and I want to have my last meal in Kirkley be from there. It's a long walk, and according to my watch, I only have about an hour to get there.
It's a strange feeling to walk around in a place where you've felt like you've never belonged, or that nobody would notice if you weren't there. Somehow, you start to feel sentimental as soon as you know it's your last time. Those thoughts quickly escape my mind, as I remain focused on my objective. After this meal, I hope to get on the bus and stay for hours until I'm somewhere completely new.
After a thirty minute walk, I reach the Stoneycreek Diner on the other side of town. I'm beginning to feel famished. It's been another long day. I check my wallet to see if I have enough cash. I have twenty dollars, which should be enough. Unlike the dollar store, I don't have the heart to steal from this diner.
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I hear oldies music playing and smell various fried foods being cooked as I walk in the door. This is a place I go whenever I'm feeling sad, or whenever my parents are out, as I would use their money to pay for dinners for myself. It may be stealing, but they've stolen a childhood from me. This place is a happier part of my life, as it is warm and inviting. I believe it will be the one thing I would miss about my life here.
"You can sit at the booth over there, hun," a waitress says to me. I sit where I'm told and I am handed a menu, although I may as well have it memorized. "Hi! What can I start you off with today?", she asks. I already know my order before she'd even need to ask.
"Could I get an iced tea please?", I ask quietly. She smiles and heads to the counter to make my drink.
I look out the window at the sun setting and darkness closing in in the sky. Through the reflection of the diner, I can almost see stars forming outside. The woods are in view as well, with dark tree silhouettes in the skyline. Several minutes later, the waitress comes back with my iced tea.
"Thank you," I smile.
"Anything to eat, hun?" I feel my stomach rumble, as I've hardly eaten today.
"Yes. I'd like the BLT with fries, please."
"Coming right up," she says kindly, before collecting my untouched menu.
I've seen this waitress before in my frequent visits to this diner, always smiling and polite to customers. She's likely in her late forties or fifties, and slightly on the bigger side. Nonetheless, she works hard every day and nothing stops her from always putting a smile on her face. I've always admired her for that, and wondered where she could find joy to such an extent doing the same thing every day. Then again, her life and mine must be very different.
That's why I'm leaving for good. I want the happiness she seems to have. I get distracted in thought and can no longer feel the passing of time. Looking out the window, I see a bus stop in the distance. A short five minute walk would get me there. That's my next step. I grow even more anxious, yet at the same time, feel like I can't get there fast enough.
After twenty minutes or so, my BLT comes and it looks amazing.
"Thank you," I say, smiling with more confidence.
"Enjoy, love," she says, walking away. I begin to eat my favourite meal, which I haven't had in a while. The long wait has only made it taste better, as I enjoy every bite and try to contain myself from gulping it down in an instant. This sandwich has always brought me comfort, and the fries are the best chaser. I've ordered this meal almost every time I've come here. I finish my meal within five minutes and the waitress comes back.
"Would you like anything for dessert?" I smile at her.
"Yes, I would. Do you serve mint chocolate chip ice cream?" In reality, I know the answer to that question.
"Yes."
"Perfect! I'd like a bowl of that please."
"Of course. Would you like the bill afterwards?"
"Yes please. Thank you." The waitress walks away.
As I watch the waitress prepare my bowl, I start to think of how unusual her kindness feels to me. It begins to choke me up. Not now, not here, please no. I constantly feel like a bubble that's about to burst, fragile and soft. I take a deep breath and calm myself down.
I look out again at the bus stop and it cheers me up. In fifteen short minutes I could be on that bus, and it's up to me where I get off. I'm so distracted that I don't notice the metal bowl of ice cream being placed down at my table, along with the bill.
"Here you go," says the waitress. "You may pay whenever you're ready."
"Thank you," I say. I read the bill, which leaves me needing to pay $22.46. My heart stops for a moment, as I realize that I don't have enough. I can't even tip her, as much as I'd want to. I remain frozen for a moment, not touching my ice cream. The waitress comes back.
"Everything alright, dear?", I don't answer for a moment, as my face flushes. Not once have I ever been short on a diner bill.
"I'm....a bit short," I tell her, my voice slightly shaking. I do everything in my power to repress the sour taste forming in my mouth and the building lump in my throat. "I only have twenty dollars, and I can't tip you, so..." I finally read the waitress's name tag––Bethany.
"It's okay, hun. I know you come here a lot. I've got it for this time. Don't you worry about a thing." I let out a sigh of relief, feeling my face cool down.
"Thank you so much. No one's ever done anything like this for me." I hand Bethany the cash I have.
"Anytime. Have a good evening," she smiles.
"Thanks, you too," I reply timidly.
As Bethany walks away, I tuck into my bowl of ice cream. It melts in my mouth and cheers me up. This ice cream is one of my favourite things in the world. I polish off the bowl within two minutes, as I place the cool metal bowl against my swollen eye, which slightly numbs the pain. I shut my eyes and sigh in relief, taking in the chill. The cold against my face is refreshing. I then get up and leave the diner.
As I head out the door, I take a few steps outside and look back at the Stoneycreek Diner, one last time.
"So long, old friend," I say. I then turn back around and head to the bus stop.
Four minutes after I reach the stop, the bus arrives at 8:57. I guiltily get on through a back door without having paid, as to not make eye contact with the driver, then sit down. I sink into the cushion. When you've been running away, paranoid of being found, fatigue tends to catch up, making any surface's comfort amplified. My mind is racing with thoughts of the extra long day I've had.
I'm leaving my parents and my aunt Jessica behind. For once, I get to be the one to walk out on them. It's incredibly liberating, yet terrifying at the same time. I know, however, that the only way to get the freedom I'm after, is to seek it on my own and venture into the unknown. As the bus heads north down the darkening road, my eyes start to close and I drift off to sleep.....
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I feel myself waking up, suddenly becoming aware of my surroundings. It's much darker now, prompting me to check my watch. It's 2:30 in the morning, and I feel the bus slowing down. It's arriving at some bus station, far past Kirkley. I have no idea where it has gone. It's at a new stop.
The bus stops at the station in a place that I've never seen before. However, I'm convinced that I should get off and find out more about where I am. I must be in a new town several hours north from Kirkley. I get off, feeling like I'm stepping into a new world. The bus I was on drives away as I adjust my backpack and begin to observe my surroundings. I take a few slow paces towards the station and sit on the bench.
Looking around, I begin to notice familiarities between this place and my old town. Some people around me are smoking weed, causing me to desperately cover my nose as much as possible. That smell now brings horrifying memories. Other people around look like my parents. Litter is scattered across the stations' sidewalk, as I watch someone add to it by throwing a can on the ground. This place no longer feels like a new world, rather, an unwanted repeat of where I came from.
As I continue to observe and process where I am, I notice my hand start to shake. It's exactly like the place I left, that I'm still trying to leave, but worse. My journey is not over yet, and looking around, I know that it definitely will not end here. This is not the place for me to stop.
I look at a sign for a random route that's scheduled to arrive in one minute. I take a deep breath in relief. That's my next stop. I manage to sneak onto this next bus as well. I get cozy in a seat and I place my backpack in my lap. Taking out my extra sweater, it becomes my pillow. I lean against the window, letting it cushion my head, as I slowly fall back asleep.
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Upon waking up again, I see that the sun is rising through the window as it slowly breaks through the misty clouds. It doesn't take long for me to notice how exhausted I truly am. There's nobody else on the bus and I have no idea where I am. Well, that's the whole point. I suppose that I got what I wanted after all.
I check my watch and it's almost six in the morning. I see that a stop is approaching and I make the impulsive decision to get up. I hop off quickly, and stumble out to the bus stop as it drives away behind me. I look around and I see where I am.
I'm in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wilderness on an unknown street. The only building around is some log cabin themed store, yet to be opened for the day.
Starving, I pull a granola bar out of my bag and eat it, along with a sip of water. It quenches me and I feel refreshed again. I then start to notice the throbbing in my face. Taking out my phone, I face the camera towards me. The makeup was worn off and my eye looks puffy and swollen. I'm in shock, almost frightened at what I see, as if I've forgotten the damage that was done.
I then hear something that makes me remember what's important. The birds around me are chirping, like they're telling me that I'm free now, free like them.
I now have two options. I can walk down the road until I find civilization, or I can head into the woods, with no idea of what's there. The birds are appearing more and more on the trees, with them now chirping in unison. I realize where I should go. Turning to the right, I head into the woods and start walking as the sun continues to rise further into the morning sky.
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It's almost seven o'clock in the morning, according to my watch, and I've been walking for just over an hour. However, in my weary state of mind, it feels as though I've been going for days.
I've had half of my water bottle, and the sun is really starting to shine through. Despite having lived in Ontario my whole life, the late June heat always tends to hit me off guard and boil me alive. At this point, I need to remove my windbreaker and my sweater to stop the excessive sweating. It's bright, making me wish more than ever that I had sunglasses with me. I can also feel a slight dizziness come over me, as if I could feel the earth's movement around the Sun. That's likely from the heat––and dehydration.
I start to question why I even bothered to walk this way. What compelled me to choose this over civilization? What could cause me to do something so stupid? I can't believe I let a distant fantasy control my life's course in the blink of an eye. I stop to look around at my new surroundings. The trees seem to go on forever in every direction. I've seen no signs of wildlife, other than birds and squirrels roaming around me.
My stomach begins to rumble again, telling me to eat another granola bar. I've previously finished two and have four left. I'm nervous as to what I'm going to do once those run out and my water bottle empties. Fresh water isn't so much of a problem in the woods, as I've passed many small rivers––even a large pond. In desperation, that water will start to look really good and thirst-quenching. I eventually give into my hunger, sitting down on a rotting log.
I take a moment to observe what's around me. The trees' vibrant green leaves create a terrace above my head, in a seeming attempt to block out some sunlight. I find myself feeling protected, almost sheltered from the world like this, especially with nobody around. I take in the quiet, truly appreciating this new haven that I've found as a light, much needed breeze twirls my hair in its path. The humid air smells of freshness and hope.
While I can still feel a lack of direction within myself, mainly of where my life is headed within the next little while, there's a sense of calm deep in me that I've never felt before.
After finishing a third granola bar, I get off the deteriorating log I was sitting on and stretch. My legs are tired and my shoulders are exhausted from carrying my backpack. For a sudden trip to the woods, I sure did pack a lot.
I begin to head into a different direction, turning to the left and walking diagonally from my starting point, taking slower, longer steps. In the distance I can see some sort of cliff. It looks high from where I'm standing. I wonder if there's anything at the bottom of it, something interesting. I gradually get closer and closer, which takes several minutes. I notice that there are lots of roots and stones on the ground, as I have to watch every other step I take. As I reach the edge of the cliff, I see something absolutely unbelievable.
There's a house about fifty metres from the cliff's bottom.
Although this cliff is not all that high, it still feels like I have found something incredible. I see nobody near it, making it appear completely deserted. I decide to head down and see the house. Perhaps it can help me, perhaps it can show me something. I start to step down the hill, bending my knees and staring directly at my footing, which lowers my elevation....
I suddenly feel myself trip over a root and I start to tumble down the small hill, hitting my head on all of the uneven surfaces, as some bumps hit my eye, causing me agony on my fresh bruise. After a hard tumble, I read the bottom of the hill and skid on the ground. I'm covered in dry soil dust and leaves from the fall. I stay on the ground in pain, not wanting to move after a long walk.
I then hear footsteps coming towards me. I don't move a muscle––I'm too tired anyway. I hear the person pull a gun out at me, and in my direction. I crane my head to see who it is.
That's when I see a boy.