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Run for freedom.
“ I ran from fear and I ran from pain. I ran from your harsh words and your icy glare. You would assume from all this running I would have come across a new path. Somewhere where I could feel loved and wanted. Instead you always found me.”
I force my eyes shut in an attempt to conceal the sting. Defeat pulses through my veins as the trickle of tears down my cheek, send my heart into a state of rage. Vivid memories flood my mind threatening to open closed wounds. Harsh reality’s settle over me, bringing with them pain, resentment and disgust. Now the flow from my eyes is steady and uncontrollable. Images envelope my mind. A blades smooth caress surrounding me as I recall the security I felt knowing I had something to turn to. A hard fist against my body, sending pleasuring shockwaves that overwhelm my pain, even if only for a few minutes. Last the seductive liquid that always brought the promise of delusion. All self inflicted. All distant memories.
“ You could try to understand me. You could try to understand what I’ve been through. What it was like not having you here. What it was like to feel unwanted; unloved. Yet you’d stare at me blankly as I tell you what I need. You write it off as a “teenage phase”. Fine, do what you please. I have a new toy; a new outlet to turn to.”
My quivering hands gently touch my hip where I feel a cold piece of metal. Sorrow engulfs any emotion I was aware of.
“Look at me.”
A glare is better than nothing.
“Look at me.”
Please give me a reason not to.
“I need your emotion. I need to know that you feel something for me. Anything.”
The back of a leather chair is all I see. Slowly, as if to give her time to look up, I embrace what will happen next. I put the cold metal piece to my chest and put my hand on the trigger.
“Mom, can you here me?”
My attention turns to the needles that lay lifelessly on the wood table beside her. Unconsciously I put my final decision down on the floor, and pace slowly toward her mangled body. The sight is familiar but never calming.
“This is why you always bring me back…”
I run to the phone. When the woman in emergency picks up I tell her my name. The rest is self explanatory. I grab my coat and boots and head for the back door. Slowly my body shifts towards the leather arm chair. Tears swelter once again beckoning to be released.
“Have you ever thought that one day I might not be here?”
My whispers are lost. The sound of sirens is all I can hear as I run out the back door, choking on the mass consuming my throat. I know that this time, I will never see her again. The gun on the floor will be too much, they’ll never let her out. At 14 I don’t know if I can handle this. My legs burn as if a fire sits beneath my shoes, my arms threaten to give out. For a second I picture a loving touch from someone willing to care for me. But I know better. Unconditional love is hard to find. So I run. Once again, I run.