Running

 Running is what I found myself doing. Running from my house. Running from my abusive parents. Running from my life. But how far can I go? I sighed.       

'Aya, Aya, Aya. What ever are you doing, my sweet? You can't run from your fears. You can hide, but not for long.' I whispered to myself and couldn't help but giggle at my stupidity. But really, what was I doing? Where was I going to go?       

I found myself walking near the docks. I breathed in the salty, muggy air of one of New York's harbors. I lifted the hood of my dark jacket so that my gray-blue eyes were covered, but so I could still see. I picked up a rock and sat at the edge of one of the abandoned docks.      

I felt  a twinge of joy and sadness as I watched the rock skip on the water a full seventeen times. I remembered how my dad taught me to skip rocks on the still water. The years before my parents lost their jobs were the best years a little girl could ask for. Before they started drinking, doing drugs, neglecting me. I sighed deeply, thinking of my parents hurt. They hated me, but I couldn't find myself hating them.      

I looked up longingly at the night sky, as if asking the stars for an answer. I wanted the warmth of my home. My home when I was little and still had loving parents. They changed when their business closed and they lost their jobs and could't get new ones. They turned to drugs, alcohol, street fighting, and neglecting their only daughter. We use to smile and laugh all the time.  I was daddy's little girl. Now look at me, afraid that my dad sees me as nothing but a headache.       

I stood up and rubbed my eyes before tears collected in them. I needed to find somewhere to stay. Somewhere I'd be safe, well, as safe as you could be on the street.       

I found myself on an abandoned street, and I was drawn by noise further up it. I found my self running again. 'Thank God for soccer or I'd be worn out...' I thought. I quietly peered around the corner, and I couldn't believe my eyes. My only friend was being mugged by some creep gang.  I tried to come up with a plan, but I couldn't come up with one on time. I was grabbed from behind and pinned to the wall.      "Aya? Aya!" My friend, my only friend, yelled as he tried running to me.       

"No, Trace! Stay back... you can't fight you'll get stressed and pass out. Just... run!" I yelled, and he listened to me. He was like my little brother, even though he was a year older than me. He was very sick, heart problems. He could not get stressed. He did look back however, with pleading brown eyes for me to be safe, and took off. I breathed a quick sigh of relief before feeling a sharp pain in my stomach. I had been stabbed.       

"You little! I outta kill ya, that kid had a treasure and it was ours for the taking! How dare you, you little-" He slapped me on my cheek, not only with his hand but also with the same knife he used to stab my stomach. I began feeling weak, dizzy, but I know what I heard. Shrieks from the thugs that made me laugh despite my pain. As tough as they seemed, they sure could scream like a little girl!       

"Take that, Purple Dragon scum! Beat it!" I heard someone say. But who was it? The one that had me pinned to the wall breathed in my face and said something, things I couldn't quite remember, but the last thing sent shivers up my spine.      

"You're mine for the taking.." he said as he lifted the knife to my exposed throat. What could I do? So many possibilities were limited due to my loss of blood making me nearly unconscious. He managed a nice, clean cut before being pulled back. Back by the creature who had made the others shriek like little girls. I feel instantly to my knees, then straight on the ground and on my side. I giggled, remembering the shrieks of the not-so-mighty 'Purple Dragon' thugs. I coughed, and I'm sure it was mixed with blood as I spit out what was in my mouth. I could see nothing but colors making distant shapes. I felt someone pick me up.      

"Aw shell.. this isn't good. I better take you back to Donnie." My hero said. Who was he? What was he? Who was Donnie? How am I still conscious? I slowly began losing the tiny bit of life I still felt as I was whisked away by the mysterious savior. It smelled funny, and I heard far away voices, panicking at the scene. The voices faded, but I could still feel the slightest bit. The pain was overwhelming and my head throbbed. The last thing I remember feeling was someone lifting up my shirt to reveal my stomach, which was wounded severely. 

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 30.06.2013

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