Chapter Two: Confrontation

Excited, energetic. Their voices ate away at me. Did all the other students, who were sharing their last day of school with me, see beyond the walls they put up? Did they look out the windows to see the reality? Bitter. I was bitter. Life was bitter.

My classmates weren't, but I didn't have anyone to gossip with like they did. I don't know why, but people avoided me. It'd been the same for many years.

Lonely. Rotting. Slowly rotting.

I watched the clock as the last minutes ticked by. Our teacher, Ms. Henley, paid us no attention. She was young, like us. Brown hair. Brown, sharp eyes. Petite glasses and waist.

She was new to the job. She didn't care for us. Not really. She just tinkered at her desk. Sipping something. I think it was vodka and orange juice.

The final bell rang. The signal that we were free.

I wasn't. Not yet. But I felt ready to be, and tonight – tonight, I would be.

The sky was dark and roiling; clouds angrily swept past, and wind pushed at me. My hair flew back, whips on my shoulder blades. I felt almost like a goddess; beautiful, powerful, natural. The storm gave me energy and life. It pulsed beneath my skin.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

My heart was steady. My mind clear. I felt ready for the storm that would inevitably come. I had prepared for this day. Many dreams and nightmares had ruled over my mind in relation to it. But it was here. I was ready.

"Do you see? I'm growing, now." words like whispers, lost in the waves of air, "Something strong has taken root."

The front door slammed. Heavy footsteps trampled through the front hallway. It was dark inside. I had left all the lights off. I could feel the world shiver in anticipation. My audience was trillions large. Even the planets and stars leaned in, hoping to hear every word.

"Keely?" I could taste his anger; bitter, biting into me. He was probably already drunk. It was late, nearing three in the morning.

The back door was closed behind me. The glass shivered as he approached. As he slid the door aside, the plants shook with fear. The grass quivered; my sky broke open, frozen tears falling on my skin. Summer rains had never felt so cold, or so awakening.

"Keely," his voice, though wavering drunkenly, was a stone that grated against me, "get inside."

My father. My life. Everything sat behind me, an open invitation to familiarity, but also to a world I despised. Not far away, a different world awaited; a field of innocence and a new beginning. Memories of my mother, and a suitcase filled with what nonperishable food I could afford and take from the pantry, and any perishable food that would last at least a day. Money from both my wallet and my father's, along with his stash. Clothes and necessities.

You can do this, I reminded myself, You're ready for this.

"No."

"No? Don't mess with me, girl. Get inside. Or I will make you."

I turned. He was beet red. I hated beets.

"I'm leaving, Dad. I'm eighteen. I can do what I want, now. And I want to leave."

He was shocked. Below the layers of aggressive hatred, I could see a dying man. Sadness coiled around his pupils, and for a moment, made him seem so small and fragile that he was almost like a child. But I couldn't afford to break now; children didn't have daughters that they mercilessly beat upon every day, and I knew he was no child. He was an adult that was responsible for what he'd been doing.

I didn't wait for him to say anything. I wanted away from him. "Bye, Dad. I've left the address to a P.O. box on the fridge if you ever change your ways."

I headed for the gate, my back to the man that had tortured me during my adolescent years. But that didn't mean he felt like it was goodbye.

His body hit my own like a wrecking ball, flattening us both to the ground. "You will never leave me."

I struggled. Breath out of my own mouth and his, burning the grass, burning my ear. Pounding in my veins. My heart was much faster now: thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump.

A kick to his shin, an elbow to his ribs, and we rolled. I knocked my skull against his nose, and his grip loosened. I scrambled. One foot, two feet. Legs strong and steady. Lungs widening. I stood tall, mighty. Unafraid.

"You don't rule me anymore." My words were punches, slaps, a million bruises. "I don't have to be here any longer. And I won't be."

He laid there, staring up. Broken, battered. A thousand memories of our roles reversed slammed into me. I smiled coldly.

"Goodbye."

The rain washed my sins clean; they were needed. To escape, they were needed, and the earth accepted that. The world around me glowed with lamp light. The sadness of the skies reflected my face back at me, and I could see myself clearly for the first time. I was free, and it felt…

nice.