I stuffed a weeks worth of clothes in my shoulder bag, and looked around my room. This room was my life. It was tiny, yes, but I loved it. The pink walls, painted when was just two years old, still the same place color with white trim. The window, big and overlooking the backyard. I would miss them.
I turned to my white wood desk, and wrote a note to my sister. I briefly told her that I loved her, and not to look for me. It wouldn’t be worth it. I didn’t sign it.
I walked down the back staircase, the long staircase that would have been used for the maids, if we still had them. I sighed, and entered the kitchen. I walked over to the fridge, and stop on the balls of my feet and reached up, reaching for the envelope. When my hand found it, I pulled it down.
This is something I had never done. I had always been a good child, and the fact that I was know taking money from my sisters emergency money. She had well over two 100 dollars in here, I thought, well counting the bills. I didn’t want to take too much, but I needed to eat and get gas. I grabbed a fifty and a ten, then placed the envelope in it’s place.
I shoved the money in my bag, and walked out of the back door. I turned and faced my beautiful home. It was dark blue with white trim. People called our house their dream home, I just called it prison. I was a prison breaker.
I walked to the small side garage, reaching above the doorframe to grab a key. A key to a car that I was never suppose to touch.
Marcy had told me when I was twelve that the blue car was never to be touched. When I was three teen, I drove it down the driveway when Marcy was sleeping. I woke her up with me crashing it into the side of the house.
I opened the door and saw the light blue convertible. It was 2006 made, and didn’t look old at all. I had always wanted this car, and Marcy promised I could have it for my sixteenth birthday. That was two weeks away, so why not drive it?
I got out of the car, and drove down the long driveway, turning on to a back road that if I followed long enough would lead me to a small town with a bus station. I would then take the bus to the city, and make my mind up from there.
When I got to the bus stop, I parked my car a block away. I didn’t want to be found, so leaving the car by a supermarket seemed fair. Plus I bought a bottle of water and a pack of gum.
Leaving me with fifty-six dollars.
I hadn’t been to the town for three years, since the war got out of hand. It was almost like a ghetto. Cars sat in the middle of the street, with windows busted. Lawns weren’t cared for, and trash was everywhere. It looked like a war zone.
The whole country was a war zone. I was in a war zone.
I came to the bus stop, and sat on the chair that sat under the bus stop sign, sitting on my bag. I pulled the book of my fathers, and flipped though the pages. I came to the second to last page, a picture of my mother.
My mother wasn’t well when I was born. She denied my birth right for a month, after figuring I was hears, she handed me off to Marcy, who raised me like her own. The caption bothered me.
My darling Ana. She will play a role like no other.
My mother was dead, so how could she play a role? My mother, a women crazier then my father, playing a role? Ha! I though to myself, causing myself to laugh.
Then I was realizing that I was crying.