A Giant Mountain (g/t)

Epilogue

The first thing I did when I crossed the border was take off that god forsaken hospital gown and set it ablaze with a spare match. I got changed into my red hoodie, sweatpants and sneakers. I then took out my pocket knife and located the tracking device in my arm. I clamped my mouth shut over a stick I found on the ground and cut around the device. It was absolute agony to fish it out, and absolutely disgusting to watch, but it was all worth it when I stomped on it with my heel. I wrapped up the open cut with a cloth I found in my bag. That's when I realized I probably should have done that closer to town.

It took me just over a couple hours to get back, and the cloth was soaked in blood. I went by my old house, that now had a for sale sign on the yard, and looked for Margaret. I didn't see any sign of her so I walked to the police station. In the lobby of the station, there was a bulletin board of missing people, and wouldn't you know it I was up there. I peeled the paper off and walked to the front desk.

"I found her," I said to the secretary.

Everything was a mess after that. The police questioned me quite a lot. They asked me where I was, how I got my injuries, why I ran away, etc etc. When they were satisfied with my false answers, they called in Margaret. And boy was she pissed. She had to sign some paper work and stuff, but that didn't stop her from yelling at me while doing so.

"You think you can just disappear for 2 weeks without a word?! Not a single word!! You're not leaving my sight for a very long time, missy!"

When the police officers were done with us, they suggested I get to a hospital. Margaret drove us there, muttering incoherently. Very clearly still mad.

At the hospital, they ran some x-rays and and got some blood work done. They also stitched up the new cut on my arm and gave me a cast for my broken one. It got worse after being jostled around so much. They mesured my height and weight too. I had lost 11 pounds, but grew another inch, which I found highly ironic. But the best part? Margaret's sending me to therapy! She thought that I had tried to kill myself, and the large cut on my arm wasn't helping my case.

By the time Margaret finally took me home, it was nearly 4 in the morning. I would be staying with her for a couple weeks until she "trusted" me enough to go live with another family. It was going to be a ruff  few weeks.

School started in 3 days. I asked Margaret if I could change schools. I didn't want to see any of my "friends" again. Not one of them tried to see if I was ok when I ran away. And when the news said I was found, it seemed that not one of them cared. She agreed, thankfully.

She also took me for a haircut, to fix the mess on top of my head. The hairdresser evened things out. Though now I looked even more like a 12 year old boy.

The day before school, I went to go visit my dad. I hadn't seen him in too long. Unfortunately though, his only visiting days were during the first weekend of every month, so I wouldn't be seeing him very often anyways. Margaret drove me to the hospital, and walked me to the lobby. She still wanted to make sure that I didn't run away.

The visit with my dad went... ok. He still wasn't the same. Though I'm not sure what else I was expecting. He was sick  and the doctors said that it wasn't very likely that he'd get much better. The worst part though was the goodbye. Before I left, he asked when mom would be visiting. The doctors said not to lie to him, so I just reminded him that she was dead.
Margaret took me back to her place. I just watched the mountain range go by.

And then it was finally the first day of school. I decided to not even try with the first impressions. I just wore a Guns N Roses t-shirt with a flannel and ripped jeans, topped with my used sneakers. I flipped up the collar of the flannel in an attempt to hide the scar on my neck. Margaret drove me there, obviously. In her eyes, I was still a no-good delinquent (her words exactly). I hopped out of her car and grabbed my school bag.