Run-Away Little Sister: Hurting

Chapter Three: Leaving

ANASTASIA'S POV:

Leaving. 

An action in which you or another person are going away from a different person or place. 

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Home is where the heart is, that's what people always say. But when does a home, that once had so many beautiful memories, become a house that now has almost no meaning? My house was once my home, but now when I look at the two story house in front of me, all I can think about is the trauma that took place behind those closed doors.

My first words, my first steps, my first laughs, my first memories were all in this building that I stand in front of right now. But I can't find it inside of me to care, because now when I look towards the door, I feel my heart race, my insides churn, and my hands become clammy.

The good was replaced with the bad, and I truly don't know when I stopped being able to look at the house in front of me as a home, my home.

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When I ran away from school, I ran faster than I ever had before. My lungs burned, but I couldn't stop. Tears pricked my eyes, clouding my vision, but I didn't dare stop. Not even for a moment. 

Dane, a boy I grew up with, who at one time I would have considered to be my brother, just tried to rape me.  

When does life get so twisted around that everything begins to go backwards? When does a home become a house? When do people you've known all your life become nothing more than strangers? How do they even become strangers? I wish I knew, I wish I had the answers I so desperately seem to crave.

With shaking hands, burning lungs, and tears streaming down my face, I slowly opened the door to my own personal hell, quietly entering the house, before shutting and locking the door behind me.

No one was home.

I already knew that.

But I don't think I'll ever feel safe or loved in this house ever again. I'll always be on guard, waiting for the moment someone comes out of the shadows and releases fury on me for stepping on the ground too loudly.

My mind's on overdrive, trying to process what just happened. My heart aches just as much as my lungs, but for completely different reasons.

I'm never safe.

You're supposed to be safe at home. I haven't been, not since I was seven.

You're supposed to be safe at school. I haven't been, not since I go to school with my brothers, not since woman are seemingly only to be used as toys for men.

I'm never safe.

I just wanted safety and compassion. I just want to be loved, to be held, to be told everything will be okay.

But that won't happen.

I'm on my own in this cruel world we're all forced to live in.

But the house is silent.

And I know I have only a matter of hours before this house becomes hell all over again. 

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Four hours had passed. It was now three-thirty and I only had a matter of minutes before most of my brothers would be bursting in through the front door. Coming home from school early has major perks though, the laundry is done, snacks for my brothers are prepared, dinner is complete and in the fridge waiting to be reheated, and my homework is almost complete. I only have one more page of math problems and then I'll be finished for the day. All my other school work is completed.