by Bekah Terrell

Created on: December 01, 2009

My heart pounded wildly inside my chest. I was crouched low in the road-side brush, waiting. The sound of a rattling engine throbbed in my ears, breaking the once-silent surroundings. I peered at the approaching vehicle from behind my shelter, and saw a rusted, white Toyota pickup. My heart leapt. I had been waiting for this moment for one-and-a-half years, and it was finally here.

"I'm coming, Dad," I whispered as I stood. I hesitated a moment, then darted in front of the truck. The driver slammed on his brakes, nearly hitting me. My heart sank.

"What do you think you're doing?!" demanded the man as he got out. "I could have-" he stopped short and stared at me. "Nathan?" I clenched my fists. My attempt at suicide had failed, and I realized this with increasing clarity as my stepfather advanced towards me. He grabbed my arm and yanked me closer. "So then, little boy, why'd you run off?" he hissed into my face. I could feel his rank breath against my skin, and grimaced at the smell. He glared coldly at me, holding my gaze. "Come on," he finally said as he pulled me towards the truck.

"Wait, what? No! I'm not-" He slapped me hard across the mouth, silencing me.

"You'll do as I say!" He yelled, shaking me. Blue eyes wide with fear, I allowed him to drag me away. He pushed my back against the truck, and told me to stay there as he opened the passenger side door and began rummaging through the cluttered back seat. I stayed where I was, shaking. He found what he was after: a roll of duct tape.

"Come on, you knew I was gonna come back." I could hear the panic rising in my voice. "You know me, don't know a thing, couldn't live a week on the street." He ripped off a long piece of the tape; I backed away. "No, please-!" He kicked me hard in the stomach, knocking me down. He twisted my arms behind me and bound them with the tape. He wrapped tape around my ankles, and put a piece over my mouth.

I laid there for a moment, wholly at my stepfather's mercy, as he removed the bungee cords that held a tarp over the bed of his truck. He lifted me onto the bed, then tied down the tarp once more. I lay motionless in about an inch of rainwater which was tainted with mulch and bits of glass. The tarp was reattached, and the vehicle bounced as my stepfather climbed into the driver's seat. The engine started.

My sides heaving, feeling exhausted and hopeless, I allowed my mind to wander back in time, and to unearth memories that I had long since forbidden myself to remember.

...

Dad

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