This is the story of a girl who wanted her freedom and the man that stood in her way. It's loosely autobiographical..... Thanks for the inspiration, jerk! :)
The dirty gray of the dawn light trickled through the blinds. She lay in bed, listening to the sounds of him in the living room. Soon she heard the footfalls on the warped linoleum, and the sigh of the sofa springs that meant he'd settled in to sleep for the day. Twenty minutes, and she could be guaranteed to rise unwatched. The red minutes on the clock radio ticked past. Five,ten, finally twenty. She listened tot he sounds of his breath, ear pressed against the wall. It was deep and even. Enough time had passed, she should be safe. Slowly she opened the bedroom door, cringing as a reluctant hinge squeaked. She would have to find that can of WD-40 again soon. She paused at the end of the sofa. Was he really asleep? A few careless mornings she had neglected this step, and turned to find him silently staring at her. Those usually meant bad days. She studied him as carefully as a mother watching a sleeping child. But motherly was the last thing she felt. Satisfied, she made her way on feet accustomed to silence. She gently lifted the chair away from the computer so she could sit down, and cast just one more glance at the man she had grown to hate. She signed into the social networking site, one of her last connections to the world. He knew about this site, of course. Those times when he was awake, he would position his chair just behind hers, following every key stroke. Who was she talking to? What was she doing? That was why she relished these times. She was free to look and to say what she pleased, if only briefly.
An invitation awaited her. From Jen. God, she missed her. She'd known her before him, in those better days when she had no fear. "Hey girl" Jen had typed. "Don't know if you'd be interested these days, but some of the old crew and I are starting a roller derby team. You were hell in the pit when you still came out. I figure we could use you." Memories of her old life brought tears to her eyes. How she missed the rush of bumping to punk rock with the girls, proving herself as tough as any guy in the crowd. How had she let herself become this shell?
She read through some of the material attached to Jen's invitation. Something of an all girl punk rock relay crossed with a mosh pit. She recognized a few of the names on the team lists. Could she still do something like that? And then, she saw the skates. Bright blue, four yellow wheels and yellow laces. And somewhere, she began to see those wheels as her ticket to freedom.
Quickly,she deleted the online history and created another, more innocuous trail of activity. For if there was no trail to follow, the questions might be more intense later. She dressed and hurried down the street to work, turning over in her mind how to convince him to let her have those skates. And that freedom. It wasn't going to be pleasant.