12:52am. The whole house is silent. Dark. Inactive. Perfect. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. Everyone’s sleeping and out of sight for another seven hours. Sweet dreams, fuck nuggets. I’m leaving. I step out of bed, creeping over to the closet, where I laid my already prepped bag of clothes. I grab it and maneuver my way out of the room, ensuring Jake didn’t wake up. Sorry, little guy, but big sis has gotta go. If she’s not gonna be treated with respect here, she’s gonna find another place that will give her the respect she deserves.

I stealthily make my way down the hall, realizing just how much this household sucks. Not just its inhabitants, but the literal household itself. Every move I make results in a creak from the floor. Son of a bitch! Just let me get out of here already.

After I make it past that nightmare, I’m greeted with the home stretch: the stairs. I try making it as quick as possible, surprisingly making little to no noise. Yes! Finally, some good things coming my way. I make it to the last step, which makes a loud creak. Oh, fuck me sideways. I jet out the door as quickly and quietly as I possibly can. I already got this far. I’m not risking it.

As soon as the door shuts, I book it. I’m ... I’m free. I’m finally free. I’m no longer in the shackles of those monsters. I can live my own life. Do things my way. Live life how I want. I can finally be myself. They always told me I couldn’t. That I wouldn’t make it on my own. Time to shove those words so far down their throats, it ends up in their lungs.

I stop running to catch my breath at a small motel. Just where Pablo told me it would be. Now I just gotta lay low for a year and he’ll take us the fuck outta here. After I compose myself, I step inside of the motel.

“Good evening,” I hear from my left, “Can I help you?”

I turn to see the front desk. It’s managed by a middle aged man. Ok, that must be Pablo’s brother. I walk over to him before saying,

“Hello. Key for room 204, please.”

“Sorry, little lady, but that room’s booked.”

What?! Pablo, what the fuck?!

“And where are your parents, young lady?” he questions.

Um, what? Pablo said he was on board with this. Or maybe we’re being watched. That’s gotta be it.

“I’m 25,” I respond, “I just look short. Genetics, you know?”

“Right. Well, let’s just say that’s true: you’ve gotta have an ID, right? Why not let me see it for a second?”

Oh, he’s good. I reach into my pocket and pull out my fake ID before handing it to him. He takes it and glances at it for a few minutes. Wow, he’s really good with his roles. What is this? A family of wizards?

“Yeah, nice try,” he says, pocketing the ID, “Maybe next time you fake an ID, you should probably get your eyes right.”

What the fuck? Ok, what the hell is he doing? Why’s he fucking this up? Or is this him telling me I fucked this up? And what does he mean by the eyes? I put my fucking ... contacts ... in ... No I didn’t ... FUCK!!!

“Now, let’s find your parents, alright?” he says, stepping around the desk and grabbing my hand,

“Ok,” I reply, “Follow me.”

I lead him out of the building and to the alleyway across the street. Once I make sure the close is clear, I take a breath before saying,

“Ok, if we are being monitored, could you at least be better with communicating about it?”

“What?” he responds,

“What do you mean ‘What’? You scared the hell out of me. Pablo told you everything, right?”

“Pablo? Monitor? What are you talking about?”

“Ugh! Leave it to Pablo to fuck everything up. Ok, look, we’re trying to get the hell out of here. I’m trying to get away from my abusive parents and he’s trying to help me along with getting a place on his own so he can be my legal guardian. We need you to book a room for us for a year and we should have enough by then to jump start everything. Didn’t he tell you anything?”

Now he’s got a deer in headlights look. Obviously not.

“Well now you know,” I continue, “You in or out? And if you’re in, which room is available right now?”

He takes a breath before saying,

“Alright, look, I don’t know who this, Pablo, is and I’m not selling a room to some little girl.”

“I’ll have you know I’m fourteen,” I correct, “And what do you mean you don’t know Pablo? He’s your brother.”

“I’m an only child, girlie.”

Oh. This ain’t right. He said 215 Broadsteen Road. This is it, isn’t it? Unless...

“Umm,” I start, sheepishly tilting my head down, “If you wouldn’t mind telling me, what’s the address of this motel?”

“309 Gabston Street,” he answers.

Hm. That is quite different.

“Oh,” I manage to utter out,

“Yeah,” he responds, “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’ve had enough of this encounter, so I’m going back.”

He starts to walk back to the motel, but I grab his arm.

“Wait, where am I supposed to go?” I question, “I don’t know where I am and my phone’s dead. I can’t walk around this late. I might get killed.”

“Well, that just sounds like a heaping portion of not my problem,” he answers back.

Dick.

“Plus, you’ve made it this far without that thought. You can make it the rest.”

“Please, sir,” I plead, “This wasn’t too far from my house. Even if I do go back unscathed, there’s no telling what my parents will do to me. I might get grounded for three weeks.”

“Hang on ... What?”

“Yeah. They ground me for weeks at a time. And during, they keep lying to me saying it’s for my own good. Those monsters are just unbearable. So I’m begging you. Please don’t make me go back there.”

He gives me a confused expression. As expected. How could anyone treat their child like that? Just quarantining me like an animal. No friends to come over, no going outside, no ordering anything online, nothing.

“So you’re telling me,” he starts, “The worst thing you can expect when you get home is a few weeks in your room doing nothing.”

“Well, not nothing per se,” I answer, “I mean, my phone and tv were the only things keeping me alive. That place was such a nut house with little escape. I just feel bad for my little brother. He’s still there with those bastards.”

He puts his face in his palms, most likely taking a moment to take in the fact that people like this have the nerve to reproduce. It’s a sad world we live in. But at least he can take solace in the fact that I’m le- ... Is he ... Is he laughing?

“What’s so funny,” I question,

He takes a second to compose himself and says,

“Oh, I’m sorry. Please, go on about how much of a privileged bitch you are.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I swear, it’s a sad day when kids fuck their lives up because they’re that spoiled.”

I shove him before saying,

“Look, I’ve been through enough shit from those heartless bitches. I don’t need any more from you, you asshole.”

The nerve. Can I just not trust anyone anymore? My parents are unfit to watch an egg and other adults just laugh at the pain they bestow. Before I can say anything else, I notice a complete shift in his demeanor. He glares at me for a moment. But I won’t back down. Glare at me all you want. I’m not gonna let you disrespect me. I return a glare of my own and he wraps his hand around my neck before pushing me against the wall. I try to call for help, but all I can manage are gags.