Revengeance

Saturday, July 27th, 4:30 am

The envelope, the file from Mrs. Stanley and Andre all playing havoc on my mind.

Within ten minutes, I'm out the door securing my earbuds. I raise the volume ready to pump one, two, maybe all three of those out of my system. Taylor Swift fills my ears singing about good times going wrong and now having bad blood. The irony of Band-Aids not fixing bullet holes aren't lost. My pace increases, pounding into the pavement. I head east toward City Hall Park. It's quite peaceful this time in the morning. Redwood City is just beginning to wake up. The morning dew holds promises of a fresh new day like the excitement of getting something brand new.

An hour into my run, I try to stay upright on my jello legs and fight to keep moving past the expansion of my lungs. I know this feeling all too well. It's brilliant and one I can control. I've been running since middle school. High school held so many promises, hopes and dreams. Junior year, I was up against the best.

...It was the state championships. I was on the road to state, or so my coaches called it, the clear sweep. Scouts are expected to attend. I was wanted: wanted for my agility, for my speed and most definitely my winning streak. The coaches said I was a force to be reckoned with when I laced up my tennis shoes, tentatively placed my fingertips on the asphalt and waited for the gun to fire. Running had always been my haven. I could escape the stresses of school. Stressors I placed on myself. Now a junior in high school, I wanted nothing more than to be in and out of college as soon as possible. Since my sixteenth birthday, I attended as many college courses my schedule would allow with the hope by graduation, I have most of my associates completed. It would leave me with a year before going for my bachelor's in art history and architectural design.

The art that went into erecting a building from simple materials to a grand structure was fascinating. Ever since daddy brought home a set of Lincoln logs, I was hooked. Lincoln logs quickly moved onto Lego's thanks to my brother, who happened to be obsessed with the things. Later I went on to more sophisticated materials. Both daddy and mom were proud, although daddy wanted me to seek possibilities of a track scholarship, I didn't see it in my future.

Walking out of the house, with Camillo talking smack about my small victory and needing to step up my game that day was not what I wanted to hear. Especially after daddy's unexpected phone call pulled him away to work instead of joining the rest of us for the track meet.

Scouts, fans, family and friends filled the bleachers. I wished Daddy could be here. He would drill the scouts, making them uncomfortable for even thinking about wanting to sign his daughter, all the while sweet-talking the deal. Daddy was an intimidating yet charming man. I love him so much. The sun kissed my skin in a warm glow, ready as my place was set. The gun fired and I ran for my life. I used every ounce of training, skill, and fortitude I'd learned to bring my laces across the finish line first. It was a victory. Bellowing over in exhaustion, I remembered wishing daddy had seen this win. It was my best time yet. The crowd screams were nice, but it wasn't daddy. If only he didn't have to work that day.

I abruptly stop bending at the waist heaving, like so many times after a race. Resting my hands on my knees trying to get air past the swell in my chest. Minutes pass where my lungs begin to relax. Thoughts of daddy working that day and what happened later take precedence over the first three issues I wanted to pound out of my system. The idea of fulfilling my dreams to become an architect felt wrong after that day. As much as I knew I'd miss art, I became a lawyer to help others. Helping was coping. A light of hope flickers and grows into the knowledge of pushing forward with the case extinguishing the fear with the file I dreaded. Monday I'll attack it with everything within me.