Rose

I stepped out into the harsh sun, squinting as I took in the sites of cars, people and animals, rushing one way and that sipping coffee and talking to one another. I lifted my bag higher onto my shoulders as I stepped out, hailing a cab to bring me to the nearest mall.

My life was never easy, not for seventeen years. For as long as I could remember it has always been me. My mom would feed me, keep food in the house but she never looked after me in a way a mother should. I was ten when I found an old diary of hers stashed in the back of her wardrobe spilling out all her deepest darkest secrets. She wrote in her diary that she wished she could have aborted me, wished she was more careful and didn't get pregnant. She was ashamed of me.

I read far enough into her diary to see pictures of a man she claimed to be my father, an address and a name. Since then, I dreamed of leaving 'home' ever since I found this information. All my life I thought I was unwanted, thought the reason why my mom hated me was because I was the reason he left, it turned out that he didn't know anything about me. My mom never told him he was pregnant and when she found out, she left. I dreamed of finding my father and maybe be wanted – loved.

As soon as I was old enough to get a job, I did. I started to work as a waitress in town, saving as much as I could. I stayed in school as long as I could, went to the library after, did extra credit – anything I could do retain my perfect GPA so I could get away from my mom as soon as possible. I just didn't want to go back home, to my mom and her new 'boyfriend'.

He wasn't a very nice man, I didn't even know if he and my mom were together but he was always in the house, always around. Always getting high, drunk and very violent. It first started with some small 'accidental' bank hands, then the turned to punching in the face. It was then getting noticeable so then the hits got hard the more they were easily concealed. Mom never did anything to stop it, granted she was never there when anything happened but she should have believed me when I said he was hitting me. She got mad, saying he was around to protect me – us.

The week I left, I had 'fallen down the stairs and landed wrong on my knee'. So, like normal, like every other time I landed in hospital, I played along with the story because I didn't want anything worse to happen. Right now, I just have a sprained wrist, a few bruised ribs and a dislocated knee. Both my knee and wrist were in tight compression braces to help with the healing process. My sleeves were long and the high on the t-shirt to cover the bruises there. I didn't want the questions. The last time I tried to tell someone, I was in hospital for a week after slipping by the pool and hitting my head on the corner.

I handed over the money and stepped out of the car pulling my light bag behind me as I walked towards the center of the mall, towards the water fountain in the center of the pedestrian area, taking out my phone and typing the address that was printed in the pages of the diary. I ran a finger over the loose photo, before typing in the address into the maps on my phone before getting up. A blonde girl ran right into me, causing me to drop the diary and my phone.

"I'm so sorry!" She said, mouth wide open. I sucked in a breath and shook my head, scooping up the diary and phone. My phone was alright, thank god. I wanted to yell at her but something in me couldn't bring myself to, so I just walked away.

I walked the whole way to the address, using my phone as a guide. It was a long walk, I was hot, sweaty and annoyed. I pulled my bag higher on my shoulder, trying to make it more comfortable. I walked through a park, seeing families smiling as they played together, saw mothers and daughters laughing. My eyes stung as I forced the tears away, refused to look anymore and continued walking. My knee throbbing, my ribs hurting while my wrist ached.

I stopped and stared at the house when the maps said I had reached my destination. I stood in front of huge iron gates of a gated estate, contemplating my best move. He doesn't know anything about me, he could think I'm lying, making it up. I was about to turn and walk away when a hard voice boomed through the gates. I jumped back.

"Can I help you?" The man asked in a harsh tone. I looked up at him and swallowed, clenching my hands into fists to stop them from shacking.

"Hi, I- I'm looking for Ibrahim Mazur." I replied trying to remember how to breath. "Does he live here?"

"Go home, little girl." The man replied before walking away. I let out a breath, panicked.

"Please, I just need to talk to him!" The man didn't reply. I turned my back and rubbed my sweaty hand down my jean leg, trying to dry them. I forced myself to breath, to calm down. My mind was racing, my thoughts jumbled, mouth dry. I started to count back from ten, trying to force the panic to stop. It worked.

After I recovered, I started to walk away. What was I going to do? I spent most of my money buying the plane ticket and then on the cab to the mall. It had only enough money for a week tops in a crappy motel in a rundown area. When I was walking around the walls of the gated estate, I spotted a tree, almost overhanging into the garden. I tried my best to climb it, my knee and wrist yelling at me to stop, but I managed to push through and sat on the overhanging branch before dangling down and landing heavily on the grass below.

Despite bending my knees to help with the shock of meeting the ground, a sharp pain ran through my leg. I fell to the side cradling my knee trying to force the tears away. I rolled to my feet, trying take as much weight as I could off my bad knee. I hobbled around, ducking behind some bushes and trees whenever I heard some footsteps or voice nearby. I looked through all the windows in the ground floor, trying to see if I could see him.

There he was, pacing the floor with a hand on his forehead as he spoke quickly to another man who sat calmly on a chair. He moved from my line of vision, so I walked forward, trying to see him again. That's when I walked straight into a warm wall. I fell backwards, twisting my knee as I went. I swallowed as a man bent down and grabbed my arm, pulling me up.

"Please!" I cry trying to pull away. "Please! You're hurting me!" It was true. I didn't know if it was because of the man's grip on my arm for because it was digging his fingers into fresh bruises but it did hurt. He started to drag me towards the house. "Please don't hurt me." I say weakly as he pushed me onto a couch. I tried to control my breathing, but my chest kept moving faster, each breath harder to take in than the last. I tired pulling on the high neck of my shirt, thinking that was the reason why I couldn't breathe, but it was useless. I dug my nails into my arm, allowing the pain to clear my thoughts so I could breath.

That worked.

"Please." I beg as another man walks into the room, followed by my father. I straighten my leg as it began to ache from the two new injuries I did today.

"Mikhil said she came to the gate looking for you. "Then I found her in the grounds, trying to break in."

"I wasn't!" I defended instantly looking down and recoiling into my chair.

"Just let her go. She's just a kid." My father said when another man came in behind him. I swallowed hard.

"Sir-"

"Just let her go home." He replied.

"Please - I can't go home!" I cry trying to explain but no words coming out. "Please." I beg but it was no use. My arm was already been gripped and I was been pulling away. The pain braught tears to my eyes as I tried to pull away. "Please don't hurt me."

"Be careful." The other man called after us. I tried to fight them, to get away from them, but it was no use. I was pushed out the gates, I tried my best to stay steady on my feet.

"Please, my bag-"

"Go!" I ran just as the rain started to pour down in thick blankets. I allowed the tears to fall freely as I numbly walked towards the park, I found myself in. My hair, now soaking wet, plastered to my head, the thickness and length weighing on my neck. My clothes slung to me in a soggy mess. "Why me?!" I yelled as I cried, walking around.

My phone, my money, my clothes were all in my bag. I had nothing. My mother wouldn't do anything when she found out I was gone; she probably didn't even know I was gone. I walked until I made my way under a bridge. It was dark outside, not just from the rain that was not letting up, but because it must have been late. I took in a breath, swallowed, kicked some broken glass bottles out of the way so I could slowly slide down the wall and sit on the hard ground. I wrapped my arms around my knees and cried. I cried until I fell asleep.