by Angelia Mahaney

Created on: December 24, 2008

I had made it as a spur of the moment decision. I was running away. I got my empty backpack out of the closet and shoved everything I could find in it: a couple shirts, a pair of shorts, underwear, socks, a heap of clothes on my floor, my toothbrush and a bar of soap. I scurried around my room trying to find anything else I should pack. I frantically looked at my bed, and remembered to get the box underneath. I lie on the floor sweeping my hand across the dusty wood, when it hit something. I pulled out the shoebox and took off the lid. Inside was a picture of Arianna and me on our first real date, and a wad of 20 dollar bills. I stuffed the cash in my back pocket and as I begun to unzip my backpack to put the picture in, I heard a loud creak on the stairs.

My dad yelled: "Nathaniel, is that you?" in his drunken, loud voice. My heartbeat quickened and I knew I had no way out of this. He kicked open the door and looked around my room, with a can of Budweiser clutched to his chubby fingers.

"What are you doing?" he said.

I just looked at him, "Dad, I'm leaving."

"No, you're not, you son of a bitch." He took something out of his pocket and before I knew what it was it was pointed at me, firing a bullet that ripped through my chest. I looked down at my bleeding heart and looked back at my dad. He looked confused. "What have I done?" he asked, what seemed to be, himself. I could feel no pain, but I knew I would. I felt my knees give out and I couldn't move. I fell to the ground, and closed my eyes, feeling my heart beat one last time.

One Day Earlier~

He slid his fingers between mine as we walked up to the steep steps of school. He clutched my palm with his and I could feel the love pulsing in his veins, our veins. We walked into school, ignoring furtive glances from our classmates. I readjusted my backpack so it wouldn't slide down my right arm, and kept walking beside him. We parted with a slight squeeze and a quick glance, and went our separate ways to dump our books in our lockers.

I walked into the cafeteria and made my way to Nathaniel. He smiled, and I smiled back. I sat next to him and took his hand in mine.

I noticed a small purple bruise on his wrist and said, "Nathaniel, you can't keep letting your father do this to you. You need to tell somebody.

"Arianna, I don't," he replied, "it's harmless. He needs me to be there for him."

"Nate, it's not
harmless. He's hurting you," I said in an anxious tone.

He shrugged.I slid my arm around his back, and squeezed. Nate winced, and tried to cover it up, but he didn't do a good job. "What happened?"

"What?" he said, pretending to not know what I was talking about, "Oh, I'm fine."

"Nate," I said firmly. I lifted up his shirt to find ropes of bruises and open cuts lining his back and stomach. He pulled away but I had already seen it, nobody would ever be able to erase it from my brain. I uncurled my stiff fingers from his clothing and said, "Nate," letting tears stream down my cheeks. I buried my face in my hands and cried. He took me into his arms and he spoke to me softly.

"Arianna, everything's going to be fine. It really isn't as bad as it looks."

"Everything's not
going to be fine. I can't stand to see you like this. Please, you have to leave. You can come live with me. I'll do anything," I paused, tears still streaking my face. "Please," I murmured.

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