Juvenile

Runaway

Juvenile

"Look, John, I know you want her to stay simply because she needs a home, but I don't want her here, alright? I don't care if she's our daughter's friend. I don't care if she has no family. I want her gone."

I stayed quiet as I listened to the words my friend's mother told her husband. It really hit close to home, but by this point I was used to it.

"Honey, please, just let her stay a little longer, alright?" John tried to persuade. "A few more days at least—"

"No, I want her gone tomorrow!" Rebecca snapped. "She has no place here."

I flinched. I had no place anywhere, really, but I at least thought I could make some sort of a home at my friend's. Though... she always mentioned how her mother hated visitors. I should have just not come.

I backed up into the dark hallway. I could feel the negativity boiling up inside me. I had to leave. I had to runaway again, just like I had from my home. My old home.

I backed up further and accidentally bumped into a small table near the wall. The vase sitting on it toppled over and I quickly caught it with a gasp.

The two voices in the kitchen silenced.

A bead of sweat trickled down my temple and I set it back up, then bolted as silently as I could to my friend's room.

I quietly shut the door behind me and breathed a little. Thankfully Hazel was still sleeping. I dove for my own makeshift bed on the floor and looked like I was sleeping just mere seconds before the door opened again. I tried to steady my breathing as much as possible so it didn't look like I had just ran in terror of being caught eavesdropping.

I could sense both parents were standing at the door, but neither said anything nor did anything. It was a good few minutes before I heard the door shut though.

I sighed softly. Then after a moment of replaying the conversation in my head, I silently started to cry.

You see, I had ran away from home a few weeks ago, feeling as though my parents didn't want me. Which, since they didn't seem to give two shits whether I lived or died, was understandable. And now I was facing the same issue with my friend's parents, even though they knew the whole story.

Er, well, John didn't mind me staying. It was Rebecca, but... anyway...

I really didn't know what to do at this point. All my life I had suffered with depression, and after finally thinking I was safe, here I am again, feeling worthless, unloved, and unwanted. I might as well pack my shit and leave tonight, shouldn't I?

Yeah.

Yeah I think that's what I'll do.

After composing myself and wiping my tears, I looked up at Hazel. She was still fast asleep. As was her dog, Texas.

I felt my heart ache. I guess I didn't really believe she wanted me here either.

I started to gather my things in my backpack: Chargers, computers, phone, clothes, and everything I had brought with me from my parents.

I waited for a long time, into the wee hours of the morning, just to make sure Hazel's parents were asleep.

Then I made my getaway.

I snuck out of Hazel's room and back down the hall. I looked into the darkened kitchen to find no one, and slipped inside. I glanced through their cabinets, taking only a few cans of food that would last me a few days.

"What are you doing?" a male voice behind me said. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“I—I, um…” I stuttered, seeing it was Chris, Hazel’s brother. “Was getting a glass of water?” I said with clear uncertainty.

“Why do you have your backpack?” Chris asked.

“I’m... I’m...” I trailed off. He looked at me drowsily, but there was clear curiosity in his eyes.

“I’m running away...” I mumbled.

“Again? But why? Don’t you like it here?” Chris asked, looking concerned then. And somewhat... worried?

I stayed quiet for a moment. “It’s not that. It’s just... nobody wants me here... I’m just another mouth to feed.”

Chris watched me quietly.

“But... I want you here,” he said after a brief pause. “And Hazel wants you here.”

I stayed silent and shrugged. I didn’t look at him.

“And as far as I know, so do mom and dad.”

I flinched.

Chris paused.

“Did you overhear them say something?” Chris asked softly.

I didn't reply. I felt so guilty and so horrible. I blinked away the tears and just turned my head.

"Eliza..." Chris persuaded.

"N—no..." I stammered. "I can just tell. I can always tell when I'm not wanted," I said, starting for the door.

"Eliza wait—"

I opened it when he grabbed my arm, but I pulled away and ran out into the snow.

"Eliza!!!" Chris yelled. "Eliza, come back, it's freezing!"

I kept running, not even daring to look back. I tried to keep the tears at bay, but they just flowed down my face, freezing themselves as they went. But I didn't care.

I just knew I had to run.

I had to get away.

Nobody wanted me.

~~~

AN: Hi! I just wrote this as a spur of the moment type thing; sometimes writing helps me convey emotions more than art does.

I’m not sure if I’ll continue it, and I’m a bit shy to post it, but here you go!

I’m not sure if it works as a beginning or a middle, but it’s something!

I may write more things like this in the future, it's quite therapeutic for me.

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Cierra Harkness

Hello! Call me Starr! I'm 18 years old, an artist and animator! I'll probably mostly write about the easiest ways to draw that I've learned over the years! I apologize if my teaching isn't the best though!

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