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Living in Squalor!

  I head downstairs, the overwhelming scent of mold permeates throughout the room. Garbage and wet clothes are scattered everywhere and makeshift hammocks adorn the ceiling. A dirty rabbit hutch reeks of urine and feces, and the rotting smell of dead mice or some other mysterious animal buried beneath the filthy ruble burns my nose. As the intense aroma penetrates my eyes, they begin to water incessantly, I don’t think I can handle this. With a trash bag in one hand and plugging my nose with the other, I proceed down into the dingy basement. I  begin wading through the plethora of items in my path, deciding what to keep and what to throw out, I’m disgusted at what I see, my mother would have never let it get like this.  I stand, staring at a massive pile of clothes laying on the damp floor by the washing machine. It feels like just yesterday my mother died and suddenly life went from living in splendor to living in squalor. For me, living in “splendor” didn’t mean living in some extrav
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Impending Freedom

 

The Enormity of the Openness

It is the middle of the night, and I am in complete darkness. I avoid turning on the lights, I want to be like a shadow in the night, completely hidden and unseen. I barely slept tonight, in eager anticipation of impending freedom. As I walk through the kitchen I can feel my heart beating vigorously, pounding like the rain pouring on a tin roof, my blood pressure rapidly increasing with every step. The room is spinning, swirling around me as if I’m on a never ending carousal. I feel dizzy and lightheaded but I know I need to keep moving. I try and regain my focus and begin to creep slowly towards the door. I can feel my toes starting to go numb and my legs feel heavier and heavier with every step. The floor boards creek beneath my feet, the sound seemingly echoing  throughout the room. I can see the door handle. Bag in hand, I’m ready to go. I quietly unlock the door and gently turn the knob. I pull the door open a little bit at a time, I don’t want anyone to hear. I can smell the apple trees as their sweet scent is carried with the cool, crisp, breezy air. I have nearly escaped and freedom is within my grasp, all I have to do is simply reach out and take it. I take one more step and I can feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment as I cross the final threshold. I close my eyes, smile and reach my hands up to the sky as a single tear rolls down my face. I bask in the glory of my success. I have made it out of the dreadful dungeon, leaving my capture behind. 

I know I must make haste but as I look around at the endless fields of corn and wheat surrounding me, I feel cowed by the enormity of the openness. At my age, I don’t exactly have the navigational skills I would have hoped for, I’m considering trying to hone in on my celestial skills, or the lack thereof and search for the North Star, anything to help guide me to civilization. I think about some of the movies I have seen where people stand out on the side of the road and give a thumbs up to every car that passes by, I consider the prospect and then I quickly remember that in most of those films the young hitchhiker usually winds up dead. I decide that no matter what I need to keep moving, I can’t go back there, I can’t go back to him. 

I walked for what seemed like ages, I am cold and hungry, so I search for something I can sleep under for a while. I find a small tree nestled in the middle of a wheat field, I settle in and eat a small portion of oyster crackers and some water I packed in my bag. I laid on the ground, admiring the stars above me, I get lost in the cosmic wonder and start to drift off to sleep. I wake up as I can feel the morning dew start to dampen my clothes. The sun is rising and I begin to panic, by now everyone knows I am not there, more importantly, he knows I’m not there. I pack up my belongings and head back out. I’m not sure what direction I’m headed in but I assume that if I follow the road long enough it will lead me to something or someone. Truth be told, I didn’t have a plan beyond leaving and I’m starting to realize that I should have bided my time and came up with a more precise plan. It doesn’t matter now, I am gone and they will be looking for me soon, so I need to make sure I am as far from here as I can possibly be. 

I walked and walked along the black pavement, passing corn field after corn field and cow after cow and I have yet to come across a convenient store or gas station. Every once in a while, could hear a car coming up behind me and I would pray that it wasn’t an old Crown Victoria waiting to snatch me up. Eventually, I stop passing grain fields and farms and start to hear more and more cars. I can hear the faint sound of country music playing in the distance. I start running, I run faster than I have ever ran before, I can see a store, I recognize it which means I made it to the square. I take a moment and let out an exacerbated sigh, all of my efforts will be worth it.

 I start wandering around aimlessly, desperately searching for someone who I can trust, I’m hoping to come across a police officer or a fireman. My eyes widen as a light bulb goes  off in my head, I remember where the police station is located. I grab a snack and I head in that direction. I make it to the station, I run inside and I immediately fall to the floor. I’m on my knees, holding my face in my hands, I start sobbing uncontrollably. There, right before me stood a man. A gruesomely horrible man, it was my capture, my father, the man I hoped to never see again. My dad picked me up, he tried to console me with hugs and kisses. He was so thrilled to see me, he played the doting father role well. Of course he missed me, of course he was worried about me, without me, he would have no one to torture and abuse. I can only imagine the vehement berating I will receive once I am home. My sisters were with him and I could see the fear hidden behind their forced smiles. I knew my freedom endeavor was over and after seeing the look on their faces, I knew this would be my last.



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