"When I left you,
I left for a
reason."
I
was frozen. I couldn't move,
because of the shock I was in. My
phone was still disconnected. The
apartment phone rang. Who could
be calling at this hour? It was
around three in the morning, and
the ringing woke me up. I trudged
shakily to the phone in the
bedroom. "Hello?" I
didn't know the number.
"Christine. Where are
you." oh no. I wanted to
hang up, I really did. But if I
did, she'd track me down. Now
she knew where I was living, and
there was no escaping it.
Well,
you're probably confused at
why my sister and I moved here,
and why my mom is calling. See,
it started when I was only eight
years old. It was just me as an
only child. My dad, Carl, and my
mom, Judith. It was a snowy
night, and we were on our way
home from dinner. We stopped at a
red light. My mom forgot
her purse. My dad was so
mad. She was drunk again, and he
had it. When the light turned
green, they started to bicker
back and forth, with me still in
the back seat. It was chaotic. We
got home, and that's when it
happened. My dad through my mom
to the ground, and into the vase.
She passed out. I hit my dad and
ran upstairs, hoping he
wouldn't follow while he was
on his rampage.
"Christine! Get back
here!" he called all the way
up the spiral staircase. I
reached the third floor, and
darted to the safe room. It was a
small room about the size of my
own, and it held snacks,
blankets, pillows, water, dinner
meals, a phone, and a small
window. It could only be opened
from the inside. I stayed in
there for about two hours. I
called the police, and I still
sat there. Even when they came to
the safe house. I was in shock,
and I wouldn't open the door
for anyone.
We filed
for him to be arrested, but it
was too late and he was already
gone somewhere. My mom met
someone new in the following
year, and he got her pregnant. I
was only ten when my sister was
born. Well, half-sister. My mom
continued her drinking abuse, and
it was up to me to care for my
sister. I did this forever, and
now. Around when my sister was
two, my mom and her boyfriend
broke up.
My mom
began to drink more and more. I
was scared. It turned out that me
and Arianna had to sleep in the
safe room constantly. I never
called the police though. Not
once, when I should've. One
day, I woke up in the safe room,
with Arianna. I heard a voice
downstairs. It was my dad talking
to my mom. It'd been when I
was twelve, four years after he
left. He wanted her back. I
didn't. She turned him down,
and... he shot her. In the leg.
And ran away. I called 911 after
the gunshot, and ran down to my
mom, leaving Arianna in the safe
room. She was in recovery for
three weeks, and when she came
home, things were different.
The next
year, my dad
came back. My mom took
him back, and dropped all
charges. I was now thirteen. She
carried on her drunk acts, and my
dad beat her. Really hard.
I couldn't take it
anymore.
Two
years later, when I was fifteen,
a night when my mom was out, I
took a bus, and drove to the
airport. We planned this for a
while, and finally escaped to a
place in the next state. My mom
found us, and we were returned
home. My dad slapped me across
the face, and broke my elbow. It
can never straighten completely
again. My dad threw my sister
across the floor, and hit her,
too. The next night my parents
went out, and Arianna and I
escaped to the airport. This time
we went across the country,
disconnected my phone, and left
no trace behind. Since my dad was
wanted in our state, they
couldn't call the police.
Now, she found us.