Runaway Heart | Teen Ink

Runaway Heart

November 5, 2013
By shootingstarx BRONZE, N/A, Illinois
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shootingstarx BRONZE, N/A, Illinois
2 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Hold on, I'll be there soon." -The Wanted


Chest breathing. Eyes wandering. Body aching. I pressed my back against the wall. I listened to the large pounding pondering in my ear. I couldn't tell whether it was the rain falling outside of my window, or if it was the pounding of my heart. One hundred one, one hundred two, one hundred three. I counted off each second as I listened for the footsteps. I listened for the shuffling of the carpet. I listened to the sounds that indicated that he, that it, went to bed. One hundred six. One hundred seven. One hundred eight. I heard the sound of its chair, screeching against the floor. One hundred twelve. One hundred thirteen. One hundred fourteen. The flip of a switch and the creaking of the floor alert my ears. One hundred twenty. One hundred twenty one. One hundred twenty two. The wooden stairs creaked and the familiar sounds of the carpet being dragged on. One hundred twenty six. One hundred twenty seven. A door is closed, and I hear click and I know it's time. I stand up from where I was sitting, being very quiet as I did. I must hurry now. No turning back. I pick of my rain coat, pulling it over my pink-worn t-shirt. The materiel goes past my hips, covering my jeans in a fashionable manner. I picked up what was a bright blue duffel back and was now a worn, grey disappointment. The strap, which you could easily throw over your shoulder, has been worn and chewed down. The mice could have easily gotten to it. I hug the bag to my chest. One. Two. Three. I count the seconds that I spend, still in the house. Still in the house where it watches over me. Four. Five. Six. I pull on my dark brown boots, cramming my toes. My feet have grown about half an inch since I have last worn them. I hurry to the my door, wrapping my fingers around the golden knob. Ten. Elven. Twelve. My hand moves in a swift movement, the door opening before I can stop. A soft creek rises from the rusted hinges. I squint my eyes. It would hear me. It would come out of its room, and see me. But there is nothing. Nothing but silence from the other end of the hall. Twenty. Twenty one. Twenty two. Twenty three. I creep along side of the corridor, feeling my way against the rough, wooden wall. I count my steps. Forward. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Left. One. Two. Three. Four. I enter the living room. I look to my left, into the kitchen. Everything is where it first was. Dirty plates were on the counter, close to the sink. A plastic cup filled with water sat next to the refrigerator. Forty one. Forty two. Forty three. The seconds I have spent in the house still ticks on into my brain. Without wasting anymore time, I run down the stairs, thoughts racing through my head. There's no turning back. I jump up, unlocking the golden chain that kept me trapped in here for years. I pull open the wooden door, the smell of rain and fresh air piling in. Before I let all the heat escape, I step onto the front porch, closing the door behind me. I try to look beyond the house, but the water emptying from the sky makes it quite impossible to see. I look up to its window, noticing the light was still left off. I made it out. Grabbing every bit of nerve I have, I took off running. The rain instantly soaks me from head to toe. I clutch the duffel bag further to my chest. I have no idea where I am going. Where I'm running off to. All I know is that I'm running, running far away from this place. My body begins to shake. It's too cold for me too handle. But I can't turn back now. It would hear me. It would notice the water puddles. I would have no explanation. I keep running until there is a turn. Left or right. I trust my instincts and make a right. I run down the road, the bag slipping through my arms. I grip on to it tighter, refusing to let it slip out again. I soon run out of breath and my body collapses on the side of the rode. My clothes are instantly stained with the muddy puddles. I'm too exhausted to get up. I lay there, allowing the rain to cover my face. I count the beats of my heart. It's too fast to count. I've lost count of the seconds it has been since I left the house. My brain was only focused on one thing, and it was to get out as soon as possible. My legs are finally ready to begin moving again. The rain lightened only a tad. It was enough for my to see where I was going. I noticed a bench. It was next to a white sign, the pain worn off. I could hardly make out the words. I put the pieces together and I finally realized it was a bus stop. Finally. Just what I needed. i look both ways for ongoing traffic. Noticing none, I sprint my way across the gravel road. I refused to stop until I was safe inside the building. I take three heavy breaths, allowing my body to relax and realize everything is alright and that I was safe. Immediately I felt eyes wandering toward my direction. Looking down, I quickly hurried to the bathroom. The sign that read 'Ladies' was hanging by a thread. The paint was worn, and the corners were bent backward. This place obviously needed some touching up. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The smell was unwelcoming. I had to press my nose to my arm to block it out. Setting my bag on the counter, I looked into the mirror. My blonde hair had been stuck to my face. Mud was smudged against my cheeks and in rims of my hair. My clothes were soaked and were now a different color. My blue eyes were tired, full of exhaustion. I needed rest. Outside, I heard the sound of an engine coming to a stop. The bus. I had to get on it. Grabbing my back and hugging it once again, I made a run out the door. Just as it was about to close the door, I hopped right in. The warmth welcomed me, calming my nerves once again. I look side to side as the isles began to clear and everyone settled in a seat. I looked at the tinted windows, knowing I would be alright. Thirty five. Thirty five. Thirty five. "Hello?" a voice breaks my deep thoughts. I snap my head up, looking at the driver, irritation in his eyes. "That will be 35 up front if you want the express trail." I nod my head, reaching into my pocket. I pull out a few tens and singles, dropping them in the bin. "Have a seat." he nodded at me. I nodded back, wandering over to an empty space. I instantly collapse, my body enjoying the cushion. I press my head against the window, a smile finally falling on my face. Free. I am free. I can no longer fight my eye lids as exhaustion takes over. I am out.



Running, breathing, panting. The stone floor irritates my dried skin. I creep along, trying to think. One. Two. Three. Three footsteps are right out the door. One. Two. Three. Three seconds and I up running up the stairs. The attic. He would never look there. It doesn't even know of the attic. At least I'm sure it doesn't. All that was ever stored was a few, chewed through boxes marked "Save Keeping' with a black sharpie. I finally reach the top and look around. Think, Anna, think. Only seconds before it decided to get to you. One. Two. Three. Three boxes. All of them big enough to squeeze into. It would look there. it always knew where I hid. Three windows. I could easily open one. But where would I land. I have two choices, climb to the roof and risk slipping to my death, or jumping to a sudden death. I pick option a. I run to the window and use my dainty little fingers to push up on it. It starts to open, and when I get it halfway up, a ringing is alerted. Damn it! He has alarms all over the house. Now I only have one choice. To hide. I start for a box. I quickly open the cardboard, though as I go to step in, an arms yanks me back. Before I have time to scream, I am thrown off the stairs.




My eyes fly open. It takes me minutes to realize it was only a dream. I am no longer with him. I'm safe. I sit up and look straight out the window. The bus has pulled in front of a cafe. I check my watch, four in the morning. My stomach grumbles. I get up and exit the bus. The rain still continues to fall. I run into the place. It takes me a few moments to realize everything. I look around and notice the checkered walls, which have had many frames around it. Photos of customers, owners, who knows. There is very little seating, but I walk over and slide my body into a booth. I close my eyes and think. Where next? I have very little money, very little food. I have no place to sleep. I have no phone. No plan. A job. I could easily get a job. I could be a waitress. I could sweep floors. But who would want a muddy street girl? I'd have to wash up. I could take table scraps. Go dumpster diving. Until I had enough money I would be sleeping outdoors, or if I'm lucky enough, a box. I tap my fingers on the table. "Excuse me?" a voice says. I raise my head, noticing a young waitress in front of me. She had a pink dress on, with a black apron wrapped around her waist. She tapped her pencil against the wad of paper she carried around. "I'm sorry.." I mumbled, fumbling with my hands. "Coffee?" she repeats and I nod my head. She rolls her eyes and goes back to the counter. She's defiantly not a morning person. I can hear the sizzling of the grill from where I'm sitting. The sound of clinking dishes, forks scraping, and laughter all become a tune to me. The smell of bacon, waffles, eggs, all ignite my senses. I dig into my pocket for cash. I only feel a few bills. The waitress approaches me with my coffee, setting it in front of me. "Would you like anything to eat? We have a special all you can eat pancake breakfast, all 6.99." I feel around in my pocket once again. The single bills teasing my fingers. My stomach grumbles yes. I shake my head no. She walks away from me. I wrap my fingers around the mug, pressing it to my lips. The taste is bitter, and the liquid burns the roof of my mouth. I gulp it down. This would be the first and last warm drink I would be able to enjoy. I try to make it last, but my stomach doesn't allow it. I finished the drink and I push my mug aside. I fumble for my change and I leave it on the table. I grab my bag and I head out the door.

Finding a place to sleep was difficult. I couldn't sleep on the street, I'm too exposed. I can't sleep on a bus, I have no money. I can't sleep in a box, they have already been occupied. I find myself wandering until I finally come across the park. I find a nice, large park bench. It's hidden behind a tree. Not my first choice, but it's better then nothing. I settle myself on the seat, setting my bag down. I use it as a pillow. I close my eyes and think about everyone in the town. I think about those who have a mattress so lay on. Who have feathered pillows to hug. Who have families to tuck them in. Who have a blanket to warm them. I pull my knees to my chest and hug myself. I imagine myself being rich, having a nice home. Having food to munch on. Having a bed to sleep in. I pull my coat around me, drifting off to an uncomfortable sleep.



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