Yelling. That's all he had heard that day. His mom and her latest guy wouldn't stop going at each other. He didn't even know what they were fighting about. Something meaningless, and unnecessary for such a commotion, no doubt. It always was. Even while hiding in his closet, with a blanket draped over his head, he could still hear the shouting match that was taking place in the tiny kitchen of the apartment.
He hated when this happened. And it seemed to be a more frequent occurrence. He wished his mom would just make the man go away, and leave them both alone. But, even as young as he was, he had come to learn that she would eventually give in and let him stay until he decided he no longer needed her. Then he would be gone from both of their lives in a matter of seconds.
He stayed hidden in that closet for what felt like hours, and yet the yelling never ceased. He tried his very best not to listen closely, but he could have sworn he heard the sound of hand colliding with skin. He knew he needed to get out of there, before either one of them came looking for him, and he ended up being dragged into the middle.
Sliding open his closet door as quietly as possible, Jess crept over to the foot of his bed, where he had left his jacket. He slid it on, then carefully opened the bedroom window, looking out to the fire escape below. After a moment's hesitation, he started to climb out of his room. He made sure to close the window firmly behind him, hoping that might throw anyone who might come looking for him off the scent.
After practically running down the fire escape, he realized he had no concrete plans of where he was going to go. That is, until he remembered something his teacher had told him, just before the class had taken a little field trip to the library.
"Libraries are quiet places. They allow you to let your imagination run wild, and create new worlds for you to visit."
To young Jess, a quiet place was just what he needed. Especially if he could escape to some other place at the same time.
Not too long after that, he found himself inside a nearby library. The one he had gone to with his class was nothing compared to this one. The building seemed to go on forever, and the walls were lined from top to bottom with books. Old books, new books, books that no one had touched in years, books that people borrowed on a regular basis.
Hardly knowing where to start with such a vast selection, he merely walked around the building in awe. Finally, however, he spotted several kids his age in the same section, and walked over to join them. There were much smaller books there, with lots more colorful pictures and less words. He tried reading a few of them, but they were just so dull and predictable. Even at his young age, he was beyond those kinds of stories.
It wasn't until one of the librarians noticed him sigh exasperatedly as he put yet another silly child's book on the shelf that he actually got anywhere. She walked up to him, taking him by the hand and leading him to a section with more difficult reads.
Once the woman left, he slowly walked down the aisles, letting his fingers trail over the spines of the books. Occasionally, he would actually pick one up, flipping through it before deciding he wasn't quite in the mood for it. He would then replace it on the shelf and continue his journey.
Finally, however, a book caught his eye and after skimming its contents, found he was actually interested in reading such a book. Hugging the story tightly to his chest, he made his way to a corner of the library, away from all the other people. Then he opened the book to the very first page, and began to read.
He stayed there until closing time, when he was told he had to go. After that, visits to the library became a regular thing for him. Books were what helped him escape from his life and the troubles that littered it. As long as he had something to read, he could more easily deal with the many trials thrown his way.
He had found his quiet place.
