Kate's Run Away

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Have you ever felt like running away? Or do you remember when you remember when you ran away? How about why you ran away?
Kate lives every night the same way: listening to her parents fight as she falls asleep. She is tired of it and even ready to leave it. She hides from them for ten years only to return to her mother at that same house. But, why did she run away then?

Submitted: December 30, 2011

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Submitted: December 30, 2011

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Slowly, the sky turns from crisp, ice-blue to a rainbow of warmth; rich gold, deep purple, crimson-red, peachy-orange, and a kiss of pink.

I lay in my bed, a cloud of pillows and fluffed blankets. I stare outside at the dimming colors and see little sparkles of diamonds peeking out from behind the softest cotton balls. The moon, with all it's waxes and wanes, glows it's brilliance, as if smiling at the sleepy people below.

This should be the most relaxing moment of the day, but nothing drowns the noise of crying and yelling from beyond my door. I try to cover my ears with my pillow, but they only get louder.

\"Shut it! You don't even take care of your own kid! You don't deserve any free time!\"

\"You shut up! I can't take care of my kid because I'm too busy working and taking care of the ____ bills that you don't even try to pay! And when have YOU ever taken care of her?! You only sit there all day and drink and bet all our money away! Why don't you just ____ get a job?!\"

\"I'LL GET A JOB WHEN I WANT TO, YOU ____ ____ ____!\"

I sit up. I hear the table being turned over and dishes smashing. I stare at the opposite wall, messily covered with photos and art work. The white and aqua striped wall looks like a border or foundation for an enormous collage. I'm too tired of listening to this every night since my birth; of wasting too many nights in tears.

I grab a small, fabric backpack and shove only about a weeks supply of clothes and a thick wad of money.

Saving and saving money; every penny was treasured and held, because I knew, one day, TODAY, would come.

I snapped the lock open and the window flew open. A gust of wind blew into my face. A gasp of alertness escaped me. I shivered as I retreated to my closet and retrieved my warmest cotton jacket. I slipped it on and enjoyed the moment of warmth. I grabbed the pack and, without looking back at the hopeless house, I jumped out.

The grass was moist from the daily sprinklers. My face was smart and my nose was red from the cold. My breath was a white ghost. I looked up at the indigo sky turning black. The moon was still smiling down at me, as if encouraging me. The diamonds of the night twinkled their words of help, too.

I walked away from that house. In the morning when the moon and stars said goodbye, and the sun rose happily, not warning my parents of their mistake, my mother walked into my room, softly calling for me. She smiled, sitting on the edge of my bed and looking at the lump under the blankets. She sensed something was strange, though. Fearfully, she pulled back the heap of fabric.

\"Honey?!\" my mother called in a panic. \"Baby, stop playing and come here! Kate?!\"

She ran into the living room and told my father. He stood up and yelled at her again, telling her it was her fault again. His blood-shot eyes gave away his hangover as he ran out the front door calling for me. \"Kate?!? KATE!!!\"

I was already on a bus on the way to Sunnyvale, California. A friend there had always been there for me before they moved to Sunnyvale. I had contacted them and they had said to hurry over. It was a long trip from Nevada, but I needed to escape.

Ten years have passed since then. I am only now walking up to this house again. The house has not changed since then. I see an old woman tending the flowers in the front.

\"Excuse me,\" I call out.

She turns to look at me. The woman stands up and takes off her gloves. The coarse apron contradicts the bright colors on her house dress. \"Can I help you?\" she asks as she tucks a strand graying hair behind her ear.

\"Are you Mrs. Daniels?\"

\"Yes.\" she stares at me, confused.

\"Is Mr. Daniels here?\"

\"No, unfortunately, I divorced him five years ago,\" she says grimly.

\"Well then,\" I sigh. I look at her and, without skipping a beat, I say \"I'm home, mom.\"

She drops her glove and stare at me. \"Oh my god...Kate?!\" tears stream down her eyes as she smiles, trying to form words.

With that, I knew running from home for ten years was worth waiting for her to realize her mistakes and what she wanted with her life. I could not help crying, too, from seeing how happy her reaction is...


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