• I just wanted to scream… to beat that witch’s face in… no right to talk to me like that… she’s so dead… she’s going to pay…
    “REBECCA!!” My mother’s shrill voice startled me out of my thoughts. “Come downstairs NOW!!”
    Much as I didn’t want to, I rolled off the bed and left my room, almost slamming the door behind me. I trudged down the stairs half-heartedly
    What could she possibly want from me now? Probably to complain about something I forgot to do again… maybe to slam my head against the wall, like she did the last time…
    “Yes, ma’am?” I called, quite sure she was going to complain. My mother stood in the kitchen, arms crossed.
    “You missed something,” She said, pointing to a miniscule, dried up spot of spaghetti sauce.
    “I’ll clean it up right now,” I said, but she blocked me from getting the washcloth.
    “No, you won’t,” She said, bringing her face inches away from mine. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. “You are going to get the bleach and scrub all these floors as punishment. Go.”
    I didn’t wait for her to say anything else. I left the kitchen and went to the garage, where most of the cleaning supplies were kept.
    Damn bleach isn’t where it’s supposed to... ah, here it is…
    I went back to the kitchen, bleach in hand. My drunken mother threw a bottle at me, just missing my head by a few inches. She stood, for she had been sitting on the counter, and slapped me.
    “You’re a slut, Rebecca, a SLUT!!” She screamed at me in her drunken rage. “I wish you would just DIE!!” She took a knife from the block and started swinging wildly. I moved out of her way, but she still managed to cut my forearm.
    Oh, God, the pain! The agony!
    I screamed, running up to my room, as she laughed, that evil, taunting laugh. I slammed the door behind me and began to pack. I was going to run, to run and never come back.
    I stuffed a couple shirts, some pants, my sketch book, and a pencil in my book bag. I slung it over my shoulder and left my room, making sure to close the door quietly. My mother has a tendency to fall asleep after abusing me, and if she was asleep, I didn’t want to wake her. I stopped at the top of the stairs, straining my ears. I heard snores, and I knew I was in the clear.
    I stepped softly down the stairs, and at the bottom, I looked around. I spotted her on the sofa, fast asleep, another empty bottle in her hand. The cut seared with pain, but I ignored it. My only objective was to get out of this place.
    Once out of the house, I let the tears fall.
    What did I do to deserve this kind of punishment? Did I anger God with my birth or something? What have I done…?
    I wandered out of the neighborhood and into the city, cradling my bloody arm. Nobody stopped to make sure I was okay, nobody helped me. Around nightfall, I finally stopped at the bus stop. The last bus of the day had pulled away from the stop just before I arrived, so I was stuck there for the night, bleeding, tears running down my face. To top it all off, it started raining, and the bus stop didn’t have a cover. Somehow, I fell asleep.

    Running… my only escape… the monster… nobody to save me... gets closer… screams…
    “Hey, wake up!” A voice, a kind one. My eyes fluttered open, half expecting to see the monster from the dream. Instead, a boy’s face swam into view.
    Who was he?
    He was cute, but before I could ask where I was, I slipped out of consciousness.
    Again… the monster… slower… the cute boy… sword in hand… slay the monster…please…slay her now…
    The pain in my arm wasn’t so bad now. Once again, my eyes opened, but I didn’t pass out this time. I saw the cute boy, asleep in the chair.
    Wait… chair?
    I looked around quickly and discovered I was in someone’s, probably the boy’s, house. I looked down at my arm and saw it had been stitched up.
    Where was I? How did I get here?
    I checked to make sure I still had clothes on. Thankfully, they were, so he couldn’t have tried to do anything perverse.
    My movement must have woken the boy, because he rolled over and his eyes were wide open. I flopped back down on the bed and tried to pretend I was asleep. He wasn’t buying it.
    “I know you’re awake, so if you wouldn’t mind sitting up so I can explain,” He said. Slowly, I brought myself to a seated position, facing him.
    He is seriously cute, with his tousled black hair and ice blue eyes and… hot body…
    “Oh, my name’s Aaron,” He said. “And you are?”
    I stared to say Rebecca, but something in my head told me not to. “Aerisa,” I mumbled.
    “Nice name. Well, you were asleep on the side of the street, with a bloody arm, and in the rain. You could’ve gotten an infection, or gotten sick, or worse. So I brought you here, to my apartment, and stitched up your arm. Don’t worry, I knew what I was doing,” He added quickly, seeing my shock. “I went to med school.”
    “How? You look so young…” I said, slightly confused.
    “I graduated high school when I was 13. I skipped a few grades in elementary,” Aaron said. “My turn to ask questions. Why were you out in the rain to begin with?”
    “I… needed help. I couldn’t go to the hospital. Something about those places creep me out. I guess I fell asleep waiting,” I said.
    Geez, that’s a lame excuse.
    “Hmm… well, do you have a place to go at least?” He asked, watching me with interest.
    I shook my head. “No. And I don’t have a job, either.”
    “You want to stay here, until you get a job?” He asked.
    Oh, what would the police say? A 16-year old in an 18-year old’s house… he’s probably older than that… hmm… what they don’t know won’t hurt them…
    “If you don’t mind,” I said sheepishly.
    “I don’t mind one bit. If I did, would I have asked you?” He asked, smiling.
    I laughed. “I guess not. And thanks. I’ll start looking for a job tomorrow.”
    “I’d wait a few days before you go looking,” He said. “You have to give that cut time to heal. Tell you what; I’ll bring the paper when I come home from work, okay?”
    I nodded. “Alright. Thanks, again.”
    “No problem,” he said. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Crap! I have to go, or I’ll be late!” He ran into the closet and grabbed a pair of light blue scrubs, pulling them on over his shorts and white shirt. He grabbed his bag and his keys. “I’ll be back around lunch,” He called over his shoulder as he left the loft apartment.
    “Okay,” I said. I looked around the room, spotting my book bag lying against the wall. Using my uninjured arm, I pushed myself up off the bed and walked over to my bag. I unzipped it and pulled out a pair of pants and a black shirt, as well as my sketch book. I quickly changed, then jumped back into the bed, sketch book in hand.
    He’s so nice to me, a stranger… he sure is cute, though…
    Finding a job was harder than I thought. Aaron had brought the classified section from a newspaper home with him, as well as lunch. He helped me pick out some good paying jobs and helped call I to schedule interviews. And over the next couple of weeks, I went to the interviews. And… I fell in love…
    But everything good always has something bad waiting to happen.
    I was flipping through the channels one day, waiting for Aaron to come home, and I stopped on the news channel. They had just finished a segment on how gas prices were going up because of the war in Iraq. I was about to change the channel, but something on the bottom of the screen caught my eye.
    16-YEAR OLD MISSING. NAME: REBECCA HALEX. CALL (429)018-2534 FOR INFORMATION.
    Oh, no… if she finds me, I’m dead for sure…
    The cut flared with pain, as if the thought of my mother was what caused it.
    Aaron! He probably saw the message!
    Aaron walked in the front door, an odd expression on his face.
    “Aaron, I can-“ I started, but he cut me off.
    “So… you’re the runaway, huh?” He asked. I couldn’t lie to him anymore, so I nodded. “Why did you do it?”
    “Because I couldn’t take it anymore!” I said. “She did this to me!” I pointed to the cut that was now throbbing with pain. “I couldn’t go to Social Services for all the other times she hurt me… I just couldn’t…” I muttered. Aaron sat on the couch next to me and pulled me into a hug. I started crying.
    “It’s not the fact that you ran away, but because you lied to me,” He said, still holding me in his arms. “Aerisa… I love you…”
    By this time I was sobbing, shudders racking my body.
    He loves me… he loves me back…
    “Rebecca…” He said. I cringed at the name, but he didn’t notice. ”I can help. You can stay here, and you won’t ever have to go back.” He released the hug and held my tear-streaked face in his hands. “We’d have to die your hair, and get colored contacts… we’ll keep calling you Aerisa… could we do that?”
    I nodded. He smiled, then leaned in and kissed me. I sat there for a second, unsure of what happened. I finally returned the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck.
    I finally escaped… the torture, pain, and suffering… all gone…