Page 5 of Out to Find Freedom

Just the thought of my so-called family had bile rising in my throat. The knowledge twisted and tore at my stomach.

I wanted them gone.

Dead.

I wished I could make it happen. They deserved to die for what they’d done.

Standing from the camp bed they’d provided, I walked over to one of the many boxes in the corner in the hope it would give me some type of weapon; over the time, I had only managed to go through half of them because there were that many. Only I knew they wouldn’t be so stupid to leave something down here like that. When I opened the box, I saw nothing but clothes, old magazines, and records. Another one showed me piles of wool, but no knitting needles. The ones I’d already opened were similar to the others, nothing that could help me.

Though, when I moved to a smaller one, I found some notepads, two pencils, a pen, and some romantic paperbacks.

I huffed out a breath and wiped at my eyes again. Maybe I could read them to death or stab them with a pencil before they could kill me.

Useless.

That was how I felt.

Utterly useless.

Why were they keeping me around? Why hadn’t they killed me like Donny?

Why did they even have to kill Donny?

I should have fought more. Saved him somehow.

A sob caught in my throat. I moved to the tiny basin in the toilet room under the stairs and washed my face, trying to get my emotions under control. I knew it wouldn’t last. I had nothing but time to think about what had happened. About seeing Donny’s lifeless eyes stare at me.

I gripped the sink. Another sob had my body jerking.

This wasn’t fair.

None of it.

I stormed from the room and flicked my hand out at a box. The box crashed to the floor. I kicked another and it flew forwards. I picked up another and threw it across the room. I screamed, yelled, and cried. My pain took over as I gripped my hair and tugged.

Why Donny?

Why that girl?

Why did Dad die?

Why was I left here?

Why wasn’t anyone coming to help?

Why, why, why?

Another scream rattled out. I dropped to my knees and pounded my fists against the concrete floor.

I didn’t care if they came down. I wanted them to. I wanted to punch, kick, stab, and hurt them in every way. They needed to feel the pain I was in, the pain they inflicted on others.

Only there weren’t any footsteps… so when I heard a tapping sound, I stopped still, and through the tears, I looked up and over to the small rectangle window, the size of a book, above my bed.

There, on her knees, was Mrs Minna. The eighty-something next-door neighbour.

I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. If they saw her, they wouldn’t let her go. Snapping up to my feet, I rushed over to the window. Standing on the bed, I unlocked it and pushed it the few inches open it would allow. “Go. Please, go,” I begged. Fear clutched at my chest. If Gloria or Lenny heard, the risk of it was unthinkable. Harm would come to me, Mrs Minna, or Harriet. I couldn’t let any of it happen.

“I knew you didn’t run off. I’m going to call the police. Wait there—”

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