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Short stories: Running away

by Trisha Mcdonald

Created on: August 31, 2008

Tears of anger and hatred pound on the pillow beneath my swollen face. My head feels like a trapped bowling ball while my stomach knots itself by the second.
"He promised." I hear myself scream.
"I hate you! I hate you and this trashy dump you call a house! I hate this hole in the basement where you seclude me from the world! I hate you and your alcohol, and your swearing, and selfish anger. Why? How could you do this to us? Are we that worthless?"


My voice lowers as the tears begin to decrease. I pick up a picture of my father lying desperately on the floor beside my bed.
"You promised you would stop. Your word means nothing. You're a liar and a drunk."
My hands go numb as I throw the picture across the room. The loud crash brings a smile to my face as glass flies in every direction.
I bury my face back into the pillow. Rolling onto my back I stare at the ceiling; the sharp edges reflecting in my eyes.
I picture my dad with a bottle in his hand. He's always laughing, always happy, and angry, so angry. How can someone be so happy and angry at the same time? He throws his head back and tilts the bottle upside down in order to get every drop. I can hear the glass shatter as he throws it against the wall demanding for another. I watch as my mom obediently aids to him like a sick patient. My stomach is aching and I can hear his heavy breathing as he consumes more alcohol. His eyes are a dark maroon as he tries to stand up. He stumbles into my older sister's room and I can hear her scream. It's not a scream of joy, or pain, or even help. It's a scream of fear; something I do not posses. I stand at the door and watch him tear at her clothes.
He's a liar, and a drunk.
He promised he would stop.
His word means nothing.
He is nothing.
Wiping the smudges off my cheeks I toss my backpack over my shoulder.
By the time I sneak out the back door my face is dry and pasty. There's only one way to go from here. My body feels weightless as I drift slowly away from the prison. As I come to the end of the street I spin around slowly to take one last look.
"Goodbye, goodbye forever."

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