Sang's Freedom (Original And Rewritten)

Chapter 1: The Move

-Chapter 1-

I had seen half a dozen new houses in the past four years. We never stayed in one place too long. My mother always found fault with something: a leaky faucet, too many stairs...a nosy neighbor.

It was a good thing my father's job was so accommodating. He was able to move whenever Mother saw fit.

This time, the move had been out to Charleston, South Carolina. It was a nice, fairly large city with a lot of cobblestone streets.

Our new home was on the outskirts of the city, in a small development with plenty of space between houses. That was my mother's doing, I was sure.

She valued her privacy.

We had taken up residence in house 214 on Sunnyvale Court, and I watched from my bedroom window as the realtor pulled up the For Sale sign.

The lady shook my father's hand in the front yard whilst my mother stood at his side, arms crossed. Movers slipped past them, delivering boxes and furniture to our new home.

While they worked, I wasn't allowed out of my bedroom, so I took the time to unpack my few boxes. Half of the contents were books, and the other half was mostly clothes passed down from my sister, Marie.

There was an old radio and a stack of CD's that I placed on top of my bookshelf, and then, all that was left was my journal, which was immediately tucked into my dresser drawer, an alarm clock, and a green comforter which I spread out on top of my lumpy mattress.

When my unpacking was finished, I peeked out the window to see the movers were still working diligently.

It would be a while, I realized, and pulled out a book from my collection, kicking back onto my bed.

On a normal day, once I had finished my daily tasks, I would go exploring, especially in a new town.

There was a forest out back that I couldn't wait to get a feel for.

But my mother would be angry if I was so much as in the same room as any of those men. She would say I was asking for trouble. She would go off on the many ways men could take advantage of me.

She would call me a slut or a whore for putting myself out there, in my tight fitting jeans. If I didn't behave, Mother might strike me across the face, or maybe force me to spend a couple hours on my knees.

It was not the way I planned to spend my first day in a new place.

So, to keep out of whorish mischief, I read my book and waited for the moving truck to depart.

I heard tires pull out of the driveway a few hours later, and as if on cue, my name sounded throughout the house. "SANG SORENSON!"

My mother's voice was slow and gravelly, like it always was when she took too much pain medication.

My mother was sick. She had been sick as long as I could remember, though no one would tell me what she was sick with.

In my opinion, the only sickness my mother had, was an addiction to those tiny blue pills.

Quickly, I tucked my book away before going for the stairs. Mother and Marie were waiting in the kitchen. I could see my father on his hands and knees in the living room trying to set up the television.

"Sang, it's time for a talk."

My green eyes shifted to my mother's worn face. Her mousy brown hair was drawn up into a bun on top of her head, and her dark eyes looked down upon me, cold as ever.

My mom hadn't always given me the evil eye. I had some vague memories of being a little girl and mom taking me to the fair. We watched movies and she made her special popcorn. She even read to me before I went to sleep.

But when she started taking those pills, Mother got mean. She was short tempered and hurtful. Sometimes she got physical. The change in Mother would have been unbearable if I didn't have a sister.

Marie and I kept pacts to keep each other out of the crosshairs. We made deals and did whatever we could to lessen the other's exposure to Mother.

Countless times I had thrown myself under the bus for her.

It's what sisters did.

"Sang, when school begins on Monday, it's the same rules as always. You go straight to school. You come straight home." Mother looked me up and down. "You don't bring any people to my house. No boys. No stepping out of line. Do you understand?"

I never stepped out of line. In my last six schools I had been next to invisible. I talked to no one. I sat alone at lunch. My best friend had been my English teacher.

Having that one friend had been a mistake I quickly learned from.

The teacher had been concerned by my lack of social life, and I guess she may have noticed a bit of bruising on my wrists.

She called my mother.

I spent the next eight hours sitting on the stool waiting for my father to come home. When he did, I was ordered upstairs to my room to pack.

"I understand," I answered quietly. Marie nodded in agreement.

"No trouble, you hear me? Your father says that we need to stay here for at least a year, and that won't happen with you flaunting yourself like some tramp."

My lip twitched.

Breathe.

"School and home," Mother said.

"School and home," I echoed.

When I returned to my bedroom, my face was flushed with embarrassment or maybe it was anger.

I wasn't a freaking tramp!

A hot tear slipped down my red cheeks as I forced myself not to slam my door closed behind me.

The last thing I needed was for Mother to come thundering up the stairs.

I was seventeen. I hadn't had sex yet. My clothes were a collection of frumpy and two sizes too large. I didn't flaunt. If a boy did talk to me, I could barely respond.

I lost my voice.

I froze.

My face became a freaking tomato!

I looked out the window to see the moon high in the sky. Stars danced across the heavens. The sight of it took my breath away.

It reminded me I was small.

Insignificant.

I took a breath.

I took another and another, calming down enough to wipe away my tears with a sleeve. My chest remained tight. My heart was like a bird in a cage. I needed to be free.

With ninja-like stealth, I locked the door to my bedroom and slipped on a warm hoodie before padding over to my window.

I threw open the pane to feel the cool night air wash over me.

A tree grew close to my window, and the branches hung over the roof. I pushed myself out to the window sill and twisted, reaching up so I could get hold of the roof.

The shingles scrapped my fingertips as I pulled myself up. From up here, I was a giant, and I stretched my arms above my head looking out to the great oak tree hovering nearby.

It would be a bit of a jump. I would have to get a running start, but really the branches weren't that far. Six feet, maybe seven.

If I fell, I would end up like Pollyanna. I winced at the idea, but the sight of the forest in the distance caught my gaze.

Was I actually going to do this?

Heck yeah.