"It's you and me. Together," he says. "Us against the world."
*****
All my life, I've never trusted men. The image of them planted in my head is the figure of my abusive stepfather who has made my mother and I live in hell.
But then, an encounter w...
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Ignoring the pain from all the bruises on my body, I trudge toward the door and lock it, adrenaline rushing through me.
Now that I've found the money, I won't wait for any second longer to stay here. I don't want to see Tuck's face anymore, and I'm afraid that these bank book and card will fall into his hands.
But I have to get out of this house and disappear before he can catch me.
I think that I'll die if he does.
Quickly, I snatch my backpack and fill it with the crucial things I need the most. Mom's card and bank book. My academic transcripts. Wallet. Phone. Laptop. And just a few clothes.
My sneakers sit under my desk, and I thank God that I've kept them there yesterday. I grab my Vans, put them on, and sling my backpack across my shoulders.
I'm ready to go.
My heart thuds loudly as I head to my window. Will I be able to escape? I'm well aware that my legs are not in their best condition now because of Tuck's abuse, but hell with that.
I'll keep running even if it hurts, even if I have to drag my feet.
I just have to slip out without Tuck knowing about it.
Slowly and carefully, I unlock the latch on my window and open it. I climb onto it and jump, landing on the grass with a soft thud.
My ankle hurts, and I wince. Trying to calm my heartbeat, I decide to keep moving.
In order to arrive at the main road, I have to pass another window that connects to the dining room. And I'm afraid that's where Tuck is.
I tiptoe, keeping my head down so that Tuck wouldn't catch sight of me. A glance through the window gives me a quick view of Tuck taking a sip of his beer before laying his head on the table, groaning, his eyes closed.
Immediately, I get down again, pushing my back against the wall.
At least, he's not completely sober now.
Once I pass the window, I trudge toward the main street, trying to make my movement as quite as possible.
I wince again as the pain from the wounds on my body strikes me.
I'm practically dragging my legs, but my will to live and to escape death keeps me going.
Once I'm far enough from the house, I stop for a while, panting. I look at my watch. 5 AM.
I snap my head around at the crossroads I'm standing at. Will any cabs be passing by at this hour?
With this condition, I don't think that I can manage to walk all the way to the train station.
My pulse quickens when I see a light coming from a car heading in my direction. It's a cab. Quickly, I stop it.
I get into it and slam the door shut. A huge wave of relief finally washes over me. I put my hand on my chest, inhaling a deep breath.
