My parents and brother helped Sal carry his stuff out to Dad's car early the next morning. They didn't take care not to wake me up, but that didn't matter; I hadn't slept all night. Each time heavy footsteps passed my door, I tensed up, fearful someone would try to get me to come with them, or that Sal would make another appeal for our relationship. But it appeared he learned his lesson last night or at least was too hungover to get into another fight.
When I heard someone lugging a suitcase down the steps, I nearly leapt out of bed, realizing I'd probably never see any of them again, or at least not see them for a long while. I expected this kind of reaction towards Steve (we had a plethora of happy memories in between all our fights), or even my mother (she did the best she could, even if that wasn't much), but I also felt a pang of affection for my father.
He was a perpetual, abusive prick, but he was still my dad. As much as I hated his patronizing nickname for me, I couldn't imagine not being his 'princess' anymore.
But I stayed under the covers, waiting till I heard the door slam, jumping to my feet and stripping off my pajamas. Despite feeling disgusting after a night of anxiety sweats I didn't attempt to dull with pills (I couldn't risk oversleeping), I didn't take a shower. I barely had time to shove hygiene necessities as well as a few sets of clothing and books into a duffel bag.
Jogging downstairs, I picked up the phone, dialing the familiar number for the Hargrove's house, tapping my phone impatiently.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end whispered, not wanting to be overheard.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes; bring what I told you to last night."
"Okay, I will." A brief pause. "Love you."
Tears welled in my eyes, making my chest ache. "Love you too."
I shrugged on my coat, heading for the door before doubling back, sprinting up to my parent's room. Inside the master bathroom, I pulled open the medicine cabinet, stuffing every bottle of painkillers I could find into my pockets, promising myself I wouldn't take them, only sell them to support my new life.
Despite knowing it would be several hours before Sal was all moved in and my parents would return to shower me with guilt for ruining our family unit, my pulse thudded in my throat as I pulled out the fake back to my father's nightstand, gathering up the wads of hundred as well as a pair of my grandmother's diamond earrings.
What if he calls the police? I thought, bile rising in my throat.
No, Dad would never bring shame onto his family by admitting his only daughter had robbed him before running away. By tomorrow, he'd be telling everyone I went back to college or got a job out of state, anything to protect his reputation.
Inside my car, my hands shook on the wheel, fingers twitching towards the Vicodin in my bag, but I shook away the craving, stepping on the gas and pulling out of my cul de sac. I had to do this sober or not at all.
Once I'd parked, I put on my sunglasses, sinking lower in my seat, praying none of the Hargrove's neighbors recognized me.
When the passenger door swung open, I squeaked, temporarily frightened, forgetting briefly why I was here in the first place. But I slowed my rapid breathing, forcing a smile when I saw my companion's familiar face.
"Alright, I'm ready," Max said, chucking a large, camping backpack into the backseat, closing the door, sealing us inside. "Let's go."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "This is the last chance to turn back."
Her blue eyes went cold as steel, jaw tightening. "I'm never going back to that house."
YOU ARE READING
Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic
Fanfiction"Deborah Harrington, like Debbie Harry?" I rolled my eyes, never heard that one before.
