I could not take it anymore. I wish this had stopped. All the yelling and wrath was now a dense and high-pitched buzz in my ears. My parents were moving in a fast motion in front of me, they were arguing about everything and nothing, about what should I be blamed for, which was always pretty much everything. Time flew by, maybe a minute passed, or maybe a day went by. I was making up my mind for something I considered every time of crisis. The opportunity was too great to decline thus I decided to seize it. I was running away from home. Now, this may sound opportunistic and deliberately unconscious but at that time, anything and everything was better than the life I had. I am definitely not one of those emotionally desperate emo kids who think of themselves as depressed and rejects of modern society. I should be grateful to God for being perfectly physically and mentally healthy, for having the basic essential things I need, which include food, clothes and a roof over my head. But right now, escape was too far from reach, I had to confront my impractical parents.
This is not as enjoyable as people think it is to be the youngest, undoubtedly when you have a brother of only 18 who's addicted to drugs and an elder sister who's a loony in an asylum. I should probably not blame Michelle for being mentally retarded; she was a pretty girl but was just really off on the moon, she just needed to get back on Earth, which every doctor we took her to, said was inconceivable. But when I was victimised for standing up for her, it was definitely not the best experience I had. My parents are both alcoholics, one would be bad enough. They argue and have a fight almost every day, and it is ugly to see for there is blood staining their clothes, the walls and the carpet. Even the neighbours probably hear their screams, but they don't care for we live in the bad side of town where criminals run down the streets and where after dusk you can't even unlock the creaking door or peep through the mouldy curtains.
Danger lurked around every dark and lit corner. The local high school is as loathsome, there are not many students since most of them drop out around year 10 which is common. There were exactly 13 kids in my class, and as unlikely as this may sound; the classroom was pretty crowded for many delinquents dropped in quite frequently. The relationship between students and teachers were quasi inexistent, we didn't have direct communication with each other. When we messed with them, we were directly reported to the local police for juvenile actions. The hooligans were not particular\
rly scared of any form of authority or whatsoever; they presently had many other sensible things to do instead of being confined in a cell for 24 hours, they probably could not live that long for their dependency on drugs would take over and make them incredibly frail and dependable. And that was definitely something they would not risk for less than 50 grams of crack.
With the speed of light I came back to the lounge where my parents were in the middle of deciding of they would bash me up, which was a delicious ecstasy to them. My body was always stiff after being punched on, but it did not go blue anymore for now it was fully into the habit of being thumped on and my face did not swell from the slaps any longer. My dear drunk father had the first blow, a slap full on across my face. Droplets of blood dripped from my nose and drowned in my mouth with the snot. Tears came streaming down my face. I could not even remember the reason of all this. Maybe this was just for me living out their money and breathing under their roof. Or for some of the blunders that Michael intentionally did, which could lead the possibilities to the extremities of the galaxy, that is my brother, he may be into the drug lordship but he also gets involved in many other illegal activities. He empties his pockets at gambling parties; he drinks his head off at clubs and comes home late every day after doing many extortions and blackmailing which are the main sources of his wasted fortune.
My mother had a go at me, she pulled me by my hair and projected me on to floor, on top of the chards of broken vase which had broke earlier when she had tried to get a go at my head. Hundreds of pieces of glass cut deep in my skin and stayed trapped in my bleeding and burning flesh.
I was feverish, my nervous system finally responded as pain shot through me like burning arrows. As my father started kicking me, the pieces of glass lodged deeper, causing many minor veins to be incised, blood poured from me like a waterfall that went crashing right onto the beige dirty carpet. Little pools of blood were gathered around and under me. I was soaking wet, swimming in my own blood. I could feel the blood coagulating inside my nose, completely blocking the air passage way. I resolved breathing through my mouth. I did not emit any kind of sound, for I did not want to show my pain or weakness.
I lay on the floor like a broken doll, waiting for the next move. I did not acknowledge the pain; I blocked it away just like I always did. I was too sore to feel anything physical or even emotional. But I was aware of my fury growing with burning flames every time they laid their hands on me. I vomited with repugnance, but nothing much came out for I had an empty stomach. My parents reeled and snorted in aversion. And with that, they left and drove away to the nearest bar. I crawled to the bathroom where I sat on the floor and took out the glass, pieces by pieces. The pain resurfaced now but was quickly replaced with anticipation and determination.
I cleaned my many wounds with Dettol and bandaged them. I unclogged my nose with some nose spray and washed my face with cold water. I stared at my reflection but I did not recognise myself, I saw a fierce looking teenager with blazing eyes and dripping hair. I took the medical box into my room and packed it in my largest backpack. I took off my clothes and put on my dark thick corduroy pants, long-sleeved shirts, woollen socks and my stuffed trench coat. My sheepskin boots made my feets uncomfortably warm. I filled my bag with underwear, shirts, a jean and all the canned long-lasting food I could find. I also put my toilet bad and broke the ugly pig where I kept all the money I could save over the last 15 years. I took my old laptop and my phone, and left the house without a glance or regret.
CHAPTER 2-DARK SLUMBER
Night came swiftly, without warning. I hadn't realised how fast time went nor how drastically the sky changed colour. It had only been hours since I left home. If, you could call it a home, for me, it was more like a restricted cage where living was perilous. I was heading towards the southern suburbs, where the crime rate was positively lower. But for that, I would first have to get through the worst part of town. I did not personally know why they called it the worst part of town for where I lived was already worst than hell. I was walking in a dark alley, it was lit by street lights but the light bulbs were half burned out, leaving the path in a dim glow. The big rubbish bins stank with rotten eggs, putrid food scraps and the decomposing carcass of an animal. I had no idea of what evil could possibly be lurking hidden in the corners. I decided to keep on going; I put the hood of my trench coat on my head to try to conceal my face.
I walked at a steady pace, the bitter wind breaking on my face, blushing my cheeks and freezing my nose into an ice cube. After a few minutes, I became aware of the footsteps following me a hundred yards behind, at a similar pace. Fear gripped my heart which nearly stopped beating. I could hear my follower breathing heavily in anticipation. I kept myself from running for that would alert him, for I was persuaded that it was a man, a rather old man for his pant indicated many experienced years in smoking. Running was becoming more urgent by the minute. Yet, I could not resolve myself to run; the stone pavement was wet and humid, with my lack of coordination and balance, which would be a really bad idea for I would manage to slip, fall and crack my head on the hard rock. I pushed aside the thought of my brains tarnishing the dirty pavement when my head would explode under the impact, and increased slightly my speed. I was suddenly conscious of the man closing in the space that distanced us.
'Hey darling!' he called in a nasty syrupy screech. He was now so close that he could touch me; I could smell his alcohol loaded breath through the other smells the wind carried towards me. He had notably poor hygiene and had not changed his clothes for what appeared to be a long time. I ignored him and kept walking. But he swiftly yanked hard on my coat and turned me around with unexpected force. I was shocked but hid it well behind my hood, which he pushed back and exclaimed a cry of surprise. I wonder why, probably because I look like a girl from a good family, with my big innocent green eyes, my pale complexion and long straight jet black hair. Or maybe it was my horrified and naive expression. But all these did not stop him from taking a small double-sided knife out of his pocket and pin me to the wall with the force of a single arm. I was petrified; my body simply would not budge.
In my instant of immobile phase, I saw the crumpled face of the old man who thought could take advantage of me. He was bald and lanky, in his mid-forties. He wore layers of clothes stuffed with newspaper to isolate himself from the cold. His face was wrinkled and reminded me of an old decrepit clown with less self-image than a brain cell, which he did not look like he had many. He reeked of hydrogen sulphide or something very close. The caked grime could have been scraped of him with a knife. His surprise had washed away as fast as it came, leaving him with sudden determination as he thrust his body against mine. He repulsed me.
My body became responsive again, so I kneed him in his groin with all the strength I had left and pushed him off. He cried in pain, assuring me that my aim had hit the right spot. Years of practice at school helped me master the art of kneeing. I started running but he caught up with me. I had no chance due to my instability on wet slippery surfaces. And this time he did not play it gently, he pulled on my clothes and tried to take them off. 'Be nice love and I won't hurt you.' Yeah right, who on earth would believe such idiocy. This time I head butted him. I knew that I had no chance unless I injured him badly, which would be pretty hard to do given the circumstances. I had no desire of keeping this lunatic company. He dodged my head butt and tried harder on my clothes. Unfortunately for him, I had layers and layers of clothes under. But fortunately for him, I was keeping vert quiet and very still. Hence he forgot all about his knife which he held loosely in his left hand. I had my arms on both sides of my body which delayed him on easily lifting my shirts. In the blink of an eye, I snatched the blade from him, and threw my hand along with the blade onto his chest or somewhere pretty close. He screamed in pain and dropped back on the ground, convulsing and trying to remove the knife from his torso. His cries were from pure agony. I took a last look at him and ran away.
My too many experiences taught me that the human body could take a lot more than what people supposedly say. I felt no remorse or regret for stabbing an old man who tried and nearly succeeded to rape me. All I had was dread, pure dread. It goes against my morals to harm someone else without their consent, for harming someone with their consent is probably right as they give their consent to receive wanted glorious pain. Just like those sects where the members inflict themselves physical pain for deliverance of their sins or redemption, but that is another completely different matter, for I did hurt someone, someone who was now deep in pain, and probably writhing on the ground bathing in his own blood. The thought of all that warm red blood gently spreading on the filthy ground made my stomach twirl like a tornado, I bent over and all the food I had not regurgitated earlier that day crashed on the sidewalk.
I took in the view around me and found myself on the highway. Here would be easy to catch a bus and get away more quickly, but also here would be easy to be stopped and arrested but the police. I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror of a parked car. The cuts on my face and neck were redder than ever, I did not do a good job at trying to hide them. My lips pulsed with the trembling fury and fear I held locked away in my aching heart. My eyes shone with determination like no other. I backed away from that sight, still frightened from the horrible self-defence act I had performed. It is a sin to physically, mentally and spiritually harm others. I felt betrayed; I executed what I was running away from. I abandoned evil only to create my own once I was free. This broke down my morale to the point where I had to hold back my tears from streaming down my face.
The building blocks of mind were shattering, the numerous impacts sending pulsations throughout my overwhelmed intellect. I staggered and fell down on the nearest bench. The world was spinning, or maybe I was spinning. The lights were blurred as if a painter drew them with aquarelle paint. The moving cars left trails behind. I momentarily closed my eyes and I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I plunged head first into an ocean of darkness where blood was water and misery was silage.
I was running along a rocky track, chased by ravenous dogs that hungered for my blood, I could already feel how their tongue would lick and salivate all over me, how their powerful canines would tear through my skin and shred my broken body to pieces, all while watching me with their small malevolent eyes. I tore myself from my lurid dream only to find myself as the centre of attention of numerous worried adults. I could hear their forged concern through their mingled conversations. I was still fazed from my slumber and could not assimilate what had happened, when I heard the distant but approaching siren of a police car accompanied by an ambulance. The recent events took a whole second to sink in and register. I really could not let the police take otherwise my every actions would be futile and wasted; I just could not let that happen. I slightly opened my eyes and saw three men pacing anxiously near me and staring of to where the speeding vehicles were approaching.
My reckless side took over; I jumped up, grabbed my bag and quietly backed off to the lining trees for cover. That took me a whole minute; meanwhile my discoverers engaged themselves into a deep conversation involving claiming for a reward for their discovery. Once I reached the trees I ran like I had never ran in my life, I could literally taste freedom and did not want to let it to slip away so soon. I entered a busy street full of late night shoppers; I could finally walk at a normal pace without being assaulted or reprimanded. My heart beat slowed down and regained its natural rate. I decided to allow myself a luxury I had always been denied. I walked into a café and sat at a window seat. A smiling young man asked me if I needed anything.
'What do you recommend me?'
'How about a hot chocolate to warm you up?' he proposed.
I agreed with a large grin, my eyes followed him when he walked away, he had a sort of jumpy walk and nearly bumped into another waitress carrying a handful of mugs. I laughed and looked out the window; it was a beautiful night with a clear sky and a full moon, which cast its beautiful light upon the people wandering outside. I wondered at the number of people and then remembered it was Easter soon.