Page 6 of We Are Yours
I fought.
Finding power in the core of my being, I viciously kicked her face in with the leg she wasn’t holding hostage.
“You fuc—” I kicked her again.
And again.
And again.
I kicked her until I heard another bone crack. I kicked her until I couldn’t see anything but blood on her face. I kicked her until she was shouting, “Stop, you bitch!”
I didn’t.
Instead, I kicked her until she finally let go of my leg. I didn’t waste any time, scrambling out of that extremely tiny window. Every muscle in my body screamed in exhaustion as I lost more and more blood. Nonetheless, my survival instincts roared louder, propelling me forward onto the cold, hard concrete outside.
I hit the grass and dirt with a painful blow, rolling away from that window. The icy night air was a shock to my system, but I was determined to put as much distance as possible between me and that basement. My movements were clumsy and tiresome from the consequences of it all as I wobbled to my unsteady feet.
The dog continued to bark, probably freaking out at the sight of me.
I stood there with my hands on my knees, trying to find my sanity and my breath. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding, and I swear you could hear it down the street. It rang in my ears, echoing off the brick homes.
The only thing I knew to be certain was that I’d never be able to go back into foster care.
This marked the end of that era and the beginning of my new life, where I was truly alone. I was only sixteen years old, and now I had no roof over my head. No job security. I attended an online high school since I was constantly being moved around, and I only had a few dollars to my name. I was royally screwed.
All these thoughts flooded my mind, and just in the nick of time, my body defaulted to plain old instincts.
Flight.
With absolutely no idea where I was going, I simply sprinted toward some sort of finale, unfamiliar with anything around me. I’d only been with the Bates for the past month. I didn’t have an ID card and didn’t know my Social Security number. I had no birth certificate. No documents for this new life I was abruptly thrown into, like yesterday’s trash.
The only possessions I owned were in my backpack. There were some clothes, a pair of sneakers, a hairbrush, and a few other random necessities. Though safely tucked in the front pocket were my most prized possessions, an old MP3 player with a set of white wire headphones that I randomly found in a box of donations ages ago.
I never expected how much I’d end up cherishing the music that was already downloaded on that device. Especially the orchestra pieces. I listened to them to memorize the feelings they stirred. I listened until it felt like the instruments were speaking for me. I listened until the pain and loneliness melted away. All the emotions I couldn’t discuss with anyone weren’t a problem anymore.
I was ten when I found that MP3 player, and for the first time, it felt as if something was mine and no one could take it away from me. If I somehow lost it, the songs would forever live inside me…
It kept me warm on the nights I was freezing.
It kept me fed on the days I was starving.
Most of all, it kept me loved when I didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Faster and faster I ran, praying I wouldn’t run right into the cops’ hands. There was no explanation for what had just happened.
To me.
To them.
To anyone.
This was a secret I’d share with no one.
My thoughts raced at the same speed I was charging through what seemed to be a subway. Mr. Bates’s lifeless body flashed in the forefront of my mind, and I shook the image away.
While a frantic whisper echoed in my thoughts… It was an accident, right?
I wasn’t a murderer.
