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Ch.3 The Escape

Author- I never thought writing stories would be fun. But damn, I'm having a good ol time- *cough* *cough* anyways back to the story.

STELLA'S POV

After taking a few breathers to calm my nerves, making sure I don't go into a panic attack at such a crucial opportunity.

I search around the basement to find something to brace my broken arm with. 

According to the books I've read. Well tried to read. I picked up on a few medical hacks.

I silently thank my kindergarten teacher for teaching me how to read a little.

Yeah, yeah go ahead and laugh at the basically illiterate girl.

"Ah ha!" I whispered excitedly when I find to sticks in the basement.

Putting the two stick on the opposite sides of my arm. I then bite my shirt and pull at it, ripping a piece of the fabric off to use to secure the two sticks.

I hiss in pain when I tie it tightly making sure it stayed in place for the time being.

Now I'm ready do this.

I climb up the stairs trying to make the least bit of noise in case they were still here.

When I reach the top, slowly putting my hand on the door knob twisting it slightly.

Releasing a breath I didn't know i was holding when I heard the door unlock and open.

I peak out the door; looking to see even the slightest bit of movement.

After confirming the coast was clear. I sneak out , speed walking at first just in case I see someone.

But that quickly turned into me sprinting to the attic which is my 'bedroom'. When I saw no one.

I get to the hall way , where I look up at the ceiling to see the entrance to my room.

I leap up grabbing the door while in the air. Successful pulling it down with my body weight.

Causing the door to fold out in to a skinny trail of steps leading to the attic.

Quickly running up the stairs, I crawl to my mattress.

Reaching under my mattress; I grab my dingy backpack I got out of the dumpsters at the side of a middle school about 5 years ago. Hoping for the opportunity that had risen only today.

I start to stuff any belongings that haven't been either scratched up, broken, or ripped by my 'parents'.

I glance at the worn out stuffy that I got from a kind women who helped me get home when I was five after my mom left me at a club entrance.

It was the first nice gesture anyone ever did for me.

After staring at it, I decided to leave it and go back down the stairs.

Once I hit the bottom of the stairs, I keep think ing about my stuffy. While I pace slightly back and forth.

I-I can't leave Mr.cuddles.

Biting my thumb nail; I race back up the creaking weak stairs

Only to come back a few seconds later with my dirty stuffy tightly wrapped in my arms. And a satisfied smile splattered on my face.

Walking through the halls I pass the kitchen.

Backtracking I go in the kitchen,opening the fridge and my back pack.

I start shoving waters, cheese, left over sandwiches I made for my 'parents' this morning.

Moving to the pantry I then start throwing cans of beans, corn, and soup also.

I glance at the oven. I smile slowly as a evil thought came in my head.

I then race to the garage; opening the door , I start rummaging through old tools and used car parts.

After a few minutes of rummaging; I find what I was looking for, letting a mischievous smirk grow on my face.

I storm back in the house with determination while carrying a jug of gasoline in one hand and my stuffy in the other.

Walking back in the kitchen I open the oven and start to pore the gasoline inside.

Emptying the whole jug; I close the oven door and turn the knob on it to bake and the highest temperature.

Wasting no time I dash out the back door, running into the neighbors yard. I grab one of the neighbor's kid's bike. And jump on.

Wobbly at first since it's been quite a long time since I even touched one.

I start peddling as hard and fast as I could.

Having multiple injuries and a heavy back pack while tryna peddle to safety was a harder task than I thought.

I make it up the road; only for a old looking 1997 Peugeot to turn into the neighborhood at the same time.

My eyes widened; recognizing the car that belonged to my 'parents'

My heart quicken as I immediately pulled the hood of my jacket over my head.

Life really frickin hates me

I hold my head down, as I try to control my breathing to make it look like I was just a bystander.

I glance to the passenger window to see if they recognized me at all.

Once I had look over, I had met with the eyes of none other then my...'mother'...

We stare at each other as time felt like it strangely slowed, passing by each other

I could see the confusion plastered on her face. Probably wondering who I looked like. But it slowly turn to recognization then to pure rage.

The car abruptly slammed on the brakes. And the car doors fling open.

Quickly turning my head to face in front of me as I start to peddle harder and harden.

My breath getting restless

I grip the handles tightly as my adrenaline finally kicked in.

Pushing my feet to go faster

I look back see the action going on behind me.

I could see my 'father' a few yards away from the car; breath heavily while glaring at me. While my 'mother' stood at the car door also staring at me with hatred.

If looks could kill I'd fallen off this bike, dead

It looked like he tried to run after me. Ha,
suckers.

As I keep glance in front of me and behind me.

I see as my 'parents' rush back in the car

I'm guessing to try and come after me.

But right on cue, there was a big explosion coming from a house down the road.

I could see my 'parents' faces in complete utter disbelief as they stared at the house that once was their home. Now being ruthlessly devoured by flames.

I looked back in front of me now turning on to the main road, smirking and snorting in triumph.

Continuing to peddle with my adrenaline still pumping fresh in my body.

Step 1 - Escape:

"Completed"