From The Top of The Mountain
Part 2
The light rays from the sun woke me up. The heat from natural light and the summer air made me wish I never fell asleep. There was no way, I thought I'll be able to make the trip all the way home. But after feeling so worn down from all the heat I wasn't sure anymore.
So I began, the blanket went right into my bag and I pulled out some water from the side. As I drank it I started walking the first few steps towards the road in the distance. I hadn't seen it last night. I thought those lights were from the city, not from vehicles passing through.
I shivered from fear of the treacherous way ahead of me. How was I going to get home before I got caught, now? I shook my head. Just think positive, clear thoughts. You can't risk feeling down and tired. You have to stay alive and excited until you are home.
After hours in thought, I was realizing the sound of the cars for the first time. They zipped past as the wind followed. I was close enough to see, but far enough to get away if, by chance it was Robby. I kept my head low and let the breeze from the cars cool me down. The air was starting to get colder due to the sunset. I thought about what I was going to do when I was ready to go to sleep.
I couldn't remember my mother's face or my father's. This wasn't going to be that easy. I thought about Bryce, my little brother. How did he grow up? What was he now, like thirteen? I got just a little upset at myself, about how much I missed out on. I would've been able to fight him off, if I had just tried. I had to keep reminding myself that I was only five at the time. No reliving the moment. No going back.
So what was I going to be like when I finally got home? Will I act the way I would have if I never left? Or would I be quiet and awkward? These scenarios scared me, to think that I would never live a normal life...
* * *
The sun finally vanished behind the horizon and I decided I was going to rest for the night. I looked around well the moonlight reflected against the white rocks. I searched for a place to lay or even sit. I decided that I would under a rock where it wasn't so notice able, but it was easy to walk in and out.
I felt hungry, but this I was far more used to than anything. He starved me for a week straight once. I had pissed him off so bad one day and he had decided that he was going to punish me by hunger. I remember laying in the bed with the old chain around my right ankle. Hearing him mock me and eat food in front of me. The million thoughts of murder or suicide everyday. Lingering inside and out of my head as he treated me worse than his disobedient dog. But who would ever want to obey him?
The hunger rumbled inside me as I thought back to that night. The fearful echo of his laughing.
* * *
He stumbled closer to me with his bottle of alcohol slashing against the glass bottle. He was pretending to be my friend. He always did this when he got drunk. My God, he liked to make me sick to my stomach.
I was twelve years old. Between the ages of seven and fifteen, he was more than a monster. An animal, a coward, but most of all, the devil himself.
"Brandon, look at me!" he laughed. "I'm only showing my love for you." He climbed up onto the bed and got quieter, "It's not like you're going anywhere. Turn around so I can show you all this love." I closed my eyes. I wasn't going to move a muscle. "Brandon!" he screamed. But I didn't jump. He didn't scare me anymore.
For a few seconds I laid on the bed and closed my eyes, just pretending like he wasn't there. But only I could live a fantasy for so long. So opened my eyes, let's just get this over with, I thought. So I opened them up. But for another thought going through my head, I had decided. Why not fuck with him for a change?
So I stood up in bed and this caught him off guard. Slowly, he backed off and laid his bottle on the dresser. I heard him open his drawer, but my eyes were on the bottle. Quickly, but not yet sure what I was going to do, I grabbed his last bottle of Jack and busted it against the bed frame. "That's how I feel about 'your love'" I mocked. Then once again I shut my eyes and he pretty much attacked me after that. But it was well worth it.
* * *
I smiled at the thought of pissing him off. I dug into my bag and pulled out the chips and water I stole from his house before I left. I ate each chip thinking about how mad he would be by now. He was probably furious by now and stabbed at least a friend of his. But I didn't care what he did anymore. He could not get me anymore. I ran away. For good.
I couldn't remember my mother's face or my father's. This wasn't going to be that easy. I thought about Bryce, my little brother. How did he grow up? What was he now, like thirteen? I got just a little upset at myself, about how much I missed out on. I would've been able to fight him off, if I had just tried. I had to keep reminding myself that I was only five at the time. No reliving the moment. No going back.
So what was I going to be like when I finally got home? Will I act the way I would have if I never left? Or would I be quiet and awkward? These scenarios scared me, to think that I would never live a normal life...
* * *
The sun finally vanished behind the horizon and I decided I was going to rest for the night. I looked around well the moonlight reflected against the white rocks. I searched for a place to lay or even sit. I decided that I would under a rock where it wasn't so notice able, but it was easy to walk in and out.
I felt hungry, but this I was far more used to than anything. He starved me for a week straight once. I had pissed him off so bad one day and he had decided that he was going to punish me by hunger. I remember laying in the bed with the old chain around my right ankle. Hearing him mock me and eat food in front of me. The million thoughts of murder or suicide everyday. Lingering inside and out of my head as he treated me worse than his disobedient dog. But who would ever want to obey him?
The hunger rumbled inside me as I thought back to that night. The fearful echo of his laughing.
* * *
He stumbled closer to me with his bottle of alcohol slashing against the glass bottle. He was pretending to be my friend. He always did this when he got drunk. My God, he liked to make me sick to my stomach.
I was twelve years old. Between the ages of seven and fifteen, he was more than a monster. An animal, a coward, but most of all, the devil himself.
"Brandon, look at me!" he laughed. "I'm only showing my love for you." He climbed up onto the bed and got quieter, "It's not like you're going anywhere. Turn around so I can show you all this love." I closed my eyes. I wasn't going to move a muscle. "Brandon!" he screamed. But I didn't jump. He didn't scare me anymore.
For a few seconds I laid on the bed and closed my eyes, just pretending like he wasn't there. But only I could live a fantasy for so long. So opened my eyes, let's just get this over with, I thought. So I opened them up. But for another thought going through my head, I had decided. Why not fuck with him for a change?
So I stood up in bed and this caught him off guard. Slowly, he backed off and laid his bottle on the dresser. I heard him open his drawer, but my eyes were on the bottle. Quickly, but not yet sure what I was going to do, I grabbed his last bottle of Jack and busted it against the bed frame. "That's how I feel about 'your love'" I mocked. Then once again I shut my eyes and he pretty much attacked me after that. But it was well worth it.
* * *
I smiled at the thought of pissing him off. I dug into my bag and pulled out the chips and water I stole from his house before I left. I ate each chip thinking about how mad he would be by now. He was probably furious by now and stabbed at least a friend of his. But I didn't care what he did anymore. He could not get me anymore. I ran away. For good.
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