Perfect Storm

• Perfect Storm • | 42 |

June 15

*14 Years Ago*

"I swear no one in this house gives a shit about what I say." Keith yells as he throws the glass plates that we're supposed to be washed this morning.

He aims the plates to hit us but with him being blackout drunk, his aim is ass.

"I have to just do everything in house, huh?" he slurs.

I roll my eyes which he spots and sloppily makes his around the bar. When he makes it to me he pushes me out of the seat I was in.

I glare at him. "You fucking asshole."

I jump up from the floor, getting in his face but James holds me back.

"Stop, we'll be out of here in less than 4 hours. Just let him pass out somewhere," he whispers in my ear and I catch my breath.

This is the last time we have to endure his abuse. This is the last time we'll see his face in person. Hopefully, the next time we see it, it's plastered on the news for his arrest.

"Back. Down," he says since I've calmed down but I still glare the son of bitch down. If looks could kill.

I huff and stomp my way upstairs. I look around the small room that I share with J, and take in everything I'm leaving behind. It's not like I'll miss any of this stuff.

Everything in this god-awful house holds terrible memories. Why would I want to take those memories with me?

I collapse onto the small twin-size bed I've had since I was a toddler and look up at the ceiling.

I have mixed feelings about leaving this place. On one hand, we'll finally get away from the pain. On the other hand, where will we go? We have no family to go to and it's not like we're rich.

But at this point, anything is better than getting glass plates thrown at you.

Before I know it, I drift off into a state of slumber. I've never been a heavy sleeper. Neither has J since we have to have our guard up at all times.

There have been numerous times when Keith would come in, in the middle of the night and start screaming about random shit.

It's like he searches for things to yell at us for. Either way, today is the last time I'll have to live like this.

The last time.

•••

"Hey, wake up." I'm shaken out of my sleep and the first thing I see is J standing over me, his bag slung over his shoulder.

"What time is it?" I ask, stretching the sleep from my arms and legs.

"It's 2 am, he's asleep. We got to go, now." he goes around the room and picks up different things, stuffing them into a black bag before handing it to me.

This is really happening, I think to myself.

When James notices that I'm not moving he stops. "Hey, what's up?" he sits on the bed next to me.

"What if he finds us? Hell, he would kill us." I look down at my hands in my lap. I know this should make me ecstatic but I just can't feel the emotion when I'm scared this won't turn out well.

"Look, even if we get caught, I promise I won't stop trying to get us out of here, okay?" he says in a softer voice. I nod my head and he hands me my backpack.

"Pack anything else you think you'll need, clothes, your toothbrush, stuff like that." he then leaves the room.

I run my hand through my hair and get up from the bed, picking up a few shirts and sweats. I stuff them into my bag and look around. Noting that everything else here is staying, I walk out of the room through the living room and out of the front door quietly.

"Ready?" I nod and shut the front door.

He nods his head for me to follow and we make our way down the long narrow sidewalk for the last time.

I don't even look back at the house. The memories, the pain...I'm leaving it there.

I have to say, I'm glad we're leaving.