The gate to my life in Belleville would soon close, lock and collapse in on itself. The debry of jagged metal, and buckled wood would make it impossible to ever go back.
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I know who you are now, I guess? You’re so pretty, though I don’t know if I would care what you looked like at this point. I feel now that this is real, maybe I’ve made a mistake. For the first time I am apprehensive, I am afraid.
I get really angry sometimes, and when I write to you each night I feel it drain from me. In school today as Ms. Lee was ranting, I leaned forward closing my eyes so tightly that those yellow and purple spots danced in the black space of my vision. I imagined a man, coming in , with a gun, and shooting. Everyone. Single file. Each scream. Except for my own. When he was finished he looked straight at me and took my hand. He led me into brightness, then I opened my eyes. Ms. Lee was still babbling and I could still hear Every tick of the clock , Every wheeze and eraser slashing back and forth too roughly on page. I really thought I’d die.
No matter what, I promise I won’t stop liking you. I don’t even know (you) (the girl in the picture) From You, the girl I give all of my secrets to.
I had known in the back of my mind that something horrible would happen tonight, that the gate to my life in Belleville would soon close, lock and collapse in on itself. The debry of jagged metal, and buckled wood would make it impossible to ever go back. Something like a sixth sense or a long forgotten dormant instinct used to sense danger allows me to snap my eyes open and be wide awake. The steps are disorganized, it’s either a zombie or my father. I get up silently, lunging at the door. My lock didn’t work any more but my desk chair would buy me time.
I had finished the final piece. Tucked her safely in my back pack before I went to sleep. Now in the dark I grope the floor for as many pairs of underwear I can stuff in. Textbooks. Abandoned. Homework. Abandoned. My home. Abandoned.
He’s at the door now, time is running out. I’m trying desperately to lift my mattress to get to the secure twelve-hundred and ninety-three dollars I’d had saved for the day Mikey and I ran away. But he got out already. That’s when the first crash came. The door splintered and I knew EXACTLY how the kids in The Shining felt... I ripped the covers off of my bed tying it to the nearest sturdy object. Yellow light was beginning to spill into my room from the hallway tainting the white of the sheet as my hands shook and fumbled around them. I yanked the coverlet, pulled it taught and deemed it durable, all in the same second. Because in that second a thick arm dipped through my door yanking the chair away. I’d have to climb down and then just drop the rest of the way. It was too late. The door was open and Dad stood poised with my old Z-day weapon, a bat decorated with a litany of nails and lethally sharp things. The window ledge gripped in my left hand and blanket in my right I swung off the side.