Storm Gods - G. Bailey Page 0,74
It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, and I’m able to duck out of the way. His fist connects with the wall, and he roars in pain. “You little…” he begins, winding up to throw another punch. Where’s Tonya? She won’t be back until dinner time, at the earliest. It occurs to me that he could do whatever he wanted to me right now, and no one would be the wiser.
He’s going to hurt me, I think, heart thundering as I continue to back up. He’s actually going to hurt me.
In that instant, with that realisation, I feel something strange welling up in the pit of my stomach, something cool and insistent, a feeling I’ve never experienced before. For a moment it’s enough to draw my attention away from Mark, away from school, away from everything, the novelty of it making me wonder if this is how newborn babies feel. I can feel something in me waking up, something I couldn’t put my finger on even if I tried. And one thing becomes clear to me, a truth I think I’ve known for a long time but was unable, or unwilling, to face until now.
I need to get out of here.
Chapter Two
I don’t have time to think before Mark is winding up to hit me again, I turn on my heel and make a break for the basement door like my life depended on it. I almost slip on the rainwater staining the floor, and I feel the air behind me move as another one of my foster father’s uncoordinated swings narrowly misses me. My heart beats so loud it’s all I can think of, all I can worry about. Scrambling to keep my balance, I throw the door open and bolt through, barely remembering to lock it behind me before Mark arrives, his slurred yelling muffled as he pounds on the door.
Racing down the stairs, I begin to frantically gather up my things. There isn’t much to collect - a half a dozen articles of clothing, a couple of books, my cell phone, and before I know what I’m doing I’m dumping out the contents of my school backpack, papers and pencils showering onto the carpet. I cram the backpack full of my stuff and look around. My mind is already made up; I’m not staying here a minute longer. It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as it’s away from here. Because if Mark can cross that line once, then he sure as hell can do it again, and I might not be so quick next time.
Being hurt at this place isn’t worth the roof over my head.
Shouldering my backpack, I turn to the other set of stairs, the ones leading out to the garage, and head for the door. I feel a pang of regret that I won’t get to say goodbye to Tonya - she was always nice to me, but there’s no looking back now. After taking one last look around the basement to make sure I’m not forgetting anything, I shove the door open and leave the house through the garage. I am half-expecting Mark to be waiting for me, but he seems to have given up and stumbled back to his booze. Thank god for small favours, I think.
It’s not until I’m outside again that I realise it’s still pouring down. At least I didn’t forget my umbrella this time; the last thing I need right now is all of my clothes getting soaked from the rain. Not sure where I’m heading, I pick a direction and make my way down the street, feeling cold again as the downpour continues. I start to calm down as I walk, my heart rate slowly returning to normal, and it occurs to me that I don’t have a plan, or anywhere to go. The child services offices won’t be open until tomorrow morning, and they might not even care that I ran away. I’m eighteen now; it’s not like I’m their responsibility anymore. I take stock of my few school friends, who are really more like acquaintances, and it’s immediately clear that my options are limited as far as places to stay.
At the very least, you can find somewhere to wait until this storm passes, I tell myself, and keep moving. The clouds still seem thick overhead, and that doesn’t seem like it’s going to be any time soon. Still, all I need right now is a place to rest and figure out what to do next. As