Chapter 1: Yellow
Generally, when one is perhaps about to do one of the most calamitous things they've ever done, in an effort to change their life, they don't do it spontaneously. It's planned; calculated to minimise chances of failure. This was exactly the case for [Name].
There were a few essentials on her list: A fake ID, nineteen years worth of life savings, a change of clothes and some hygiene products.
Each item was stuffed into a worn, black backpack, along with some other non-essentials she had made room for, including her iPod and earphones, as well as a notebook and pen. In her own mind, those two were for emotional stability as she embarked on what she knew for certain would be some of the hardest days of her life.
And with a life like her own, that was quite the accomplishment.
After multiple checks that not one part of her plan had been left unattended, [Name] headed out of her bedroom, only taking one step out of the small room before stopping abruptly, her stance tense. She listened out carefully with well-trained ears, until the deep sound of a loud snore boomed from downstairs.
So He was asleep; good.
Creeping across the landing and to the narrow staircase, the [dark/light] haired woman made her way down every step with immense caution, each tiny creak resounding in her head like a banshees cry. By the time she had made it down the stairs, her body was rigid with the fear that the slightest creaks had awoken Him.
Another snore sounded, louder this time. She relaxed, but only a tiny bit.
She wasn't safe yet.
[Name] made her way across the hallway to the living room, peaking inside to see Him passed out on the couch, shirt lifted to expose part of his balloon belly, several empty beer bottles lying on the floor, on the table, and one still resting in his hand. The stench of alcohol did not make her twist her nose in disgust; she was used to it by now. Although undoubtedly, his alcoholic tendencies were one of the tremendous list of things she despised about him, just this once, she was relieved to see he had been drinking. Usually, it made him sleep so deeply that she'd not wake him easily.
Reluctant to waste any of her precious time, [Name] rushed to the closet on light feet, looking inside to see the set of keys, hung up on the wall. She reached to snatch them, but abruptly stopped herself: they'd jangle terribly if she wasn't cautious. No matter how drunk he was, it wasn't worth the risk. Taking them slowly, clutching every key together so they couldn't bang into each other, she sorted through them quietly, finding the tiny, silver key that would open the padlock on the gate outside and smiling to herself. Perfect.
With that, she tiptoed to the door, opened it and headed out, making sure to close it quietly. She made her way across the front garden towards the gate.
Ah, the gate. The gate that had been her sworn enemy since childhood. Eight feet of steel, with forked tips at the top. From inside the house, the gates were the gates to freedom. From outside, the gates to Hell. Both were held tight shut with a thick metal chain that was held together with a heavy padlock.
Now, she finally had the power to open them. Everything was ready. She had the money, the wits, and the bravery to leave this horror house and never come back.
Raising the key to the lock, she opened it, and a soft click sounded as the lock opened. She removed it, and the heavy chain began to fall down the gates, both metals clanging against each other with such volume that she flinched as if she'd been slapped.
Sucking in her breath, she glanced towards the house fearfully, eyes widening with alarm.
The living room lights flicked on.
[Name] opened the gates and ran.