CHAPTER 5

            After some convincing, I get Sam to drop me off a few blocks from my house. They didn't want to drop me off and wanted to report it, but I wouldn't let them. I just remembered what my mom always said to me if I told anyone, and I didn't want that to happen now. I ran the last few blocks home, hoping and praying for the best. Sam and the rest stayed parked and watched me head home, I knew they didn't want to leave me.

            It was now nearly seven, and I knew that it would be bad. I opened the door, surprised to find both parents gone. I looked around through the kitchen and upstairs, with no sign of them whatsoever. I was really worried now, if they had gone out looking for me, it would be worse when they came home. I was half panicked just not knowing why they weren't home. There was no sign that they'd been there for a while.

            As I was looking around the kitchen for evidence of dinner, I found a note. I read it twice to make what I read was right. The note told me that they had left to go to the bar around four, and I would need to make my own dinner. A wave of relief came over me. This means that they wont know I didn't get in on time, so I don't have to worry so much about that.

            I wait about an hour and call Kira, "Hey, Kira, they weren't home, so they don't know."

            I could hear Kira breathe a sigh of relief herself, "Good. Now Taya, tell me what's going on?"

            I shook my head slightly at her question, "Nothing, really."

            "No Taya," Kira said as she was getting impatient, "Do your parents do that to you often?"

             "No," I lied, "This is only the second time they've..."

            "Uh huh, and I'm president," Kira interrupted, "I know what's going on, my birth parents did that to me."

            I could feel tears start to fall, "My birth parents are dead..."

            "Oh I'm so sorry!" Kira replied, "Um . . . how did it happen?"

            "Car accident," I said as I wiped tears from my eyes, "Someone was driving drunk late one night and they were killed."

            I could hear Kira sigh, "Wow, I'm sorry."

            I looked straight up to try and keep my tears from falling, "Yeah, I am too. Now I'm stuck with my foster parents who insist on me calling them mom and dad."

             "So," she started off, "they hit you a lot, don't they?"

            I knew she was onto me now, so I didn't try to hide it, "Yes. But don't tell anyone okay? Please?"

             Kira sighed, "You really, really need to tell someone Taya, you don't deserve this. What they're doing is wrong."

            I shook my head to myself, "No, I can't tell anyone, no."

            I could hear Kira almost growl at me, "Okay Taya, I'll tell you what, I won’t tell this time, but the next time they lay a finger on you, I've got to."

            I shook my head over and over to myself, "Oh come on, please?"

            "No Taya," Kira said firmly, "This needs to stop. One more time, and that's it."

            I remained silent for a couple of seconds, I wasn't ready to talk. How could she threaten me like this, I thought we were doing well? She knew of what was going on and was set to get me into trouble if they did it again. I knew they would do it again, and I was terrified of her telling anyone. It's best if no one ever finds out about this stuff, it's no one's problem but my own.

            "Okay," I replied reluctantly, "Whatever you say."

            Kira sighed again, "Alright, good. Now, do you want to hang out tomorrow again? Maybe just locally?"

            I shook my head to myself, "No, that’s okay. I need to finish my homework and get it out of the way."

            "Okay, but I mean it Taya, I'll check up on you again this Wednesday at school," Kira said as she dropped the phone with a crash.

            I could hear her pick it up again, not sure just how far it had fallen, "Okay, I'll see you at school Wednesday then."

            "Take care of yourself, Coolie. And don't forget, you can call me anytime you need to."

            "I know, thanks. You take care as well. Bye," I said as I hung up the phone and tapped it rhythmically to my chest.

           She knows now, and she'll report me. No way, this can't happen. I knew I would get hit again before Wednesday, and I knew she'd be able to tell, too. Beginners can't lie to professionals, she can see right through my words. They'd been at a bar all afternoon, I knew they'd come home and take everything out on me, they always did. I'd really get messed up and then wouldn't be able to go to school.

            I rocked back and forth against the wall, holding my knees tightly to my chest. What now? What can I do? I don't want to get hurt again, I don't want to be reported, and I don't want to be here anymore. I'm sick and I'm tired, and find suicide riding my thoughts. Suicide? I've never thought of suicide before. Why now? Where did they come from? The wonderful drug I had earlier in the day had a nasty downfall, coming down was hell.

            I didn't put a lot of thought into what I was about to do, but it was like there was another force driving me. I ran up to my bedroom and grabbed my large backpack off of the floor and dumped everything out all over my bed. I grabbed my moms backpack and did the same to it. I didn't need books, I needed clothes. I shoved as much clothes into the packs as I could, making sure to grab several sweatshirts to keep me warm.

            I grabbed all the cash out of my bedroom drawer, just under fifty-dollars. I ran down to my parent’s bedroom and searched their drawers as well, managing to find well over two-hundred dollars, and shoved it all in my pocket. This was is, I was really doing this. I ran through the house getting anything and everything I thought I may need, including the rest of the rice cakes I loved so much.

            I had my large pack over my shoulders, and I carried moms’ smaller pack as a bag. I opened the front door and turned to take one last look at what had been known as my prison. Beer cans thrown all over the living room and kitchen, dishes piled in the sink. I saw my parents’ outlines on the couch in front of the television, the same parents that forced me to do this. I surely won’t miss them at all. I turn and head out the door to a new life, new problems with new solutions, to a future that is unknown.