Chapter 8
Sam
I’m starting to go crazy. School got out almost three weeks ago, and I’ve barely left the house.
Johnny’s been gone during the day, and I’m usually already in bed before he gets home.
It sucks that he’s never around. But it also means that if I want to go anywhere, I have to ask either Carson or my father to take me.
The few times I’ve been desperate enough to ask either of them for a ride, they always say no.
So, I’m left stranded at home with nothing to do and nobody to talk to.
The sun set a few hours ago, and I’m holed up in my room.
I spent the day cleaning the house, cooking and reading in-between.
I’ve been trying to go to the library, but it’s too far to walk and, according to my father, I’m not allowed to wander around the streets alone.
So, I’ve just been reading the few books I own over and over again. Hopefully, Johnny can take me soon.
I’m sitting on my bed, reading Jane Eyre for probably the dozenth time, and the words are starting to bleed together.
I slam the book shut. Then, pushing off my bed, I begin to pace, feeling like I’m starting to lose it.
I open the door to the hall, debating if I should go downstairs.
I hear the sound of the TV and peer over the banister.
Carson is on the couch next to our father, and there are enough beer bottles spread over the coffee table that I know better than to go down there.
Sighing, I head back for my room and lock the door. Shuffling through my purse, I find one of the joints I’ve been saving since the day I stole a couple from Jameson.
I open the window and climb out onto the garage roof. The lighter sparks, and I watch the flame cut through the darkness. Inhaling, I close my eyes as the smoke hits the back of my throat.
Cars pass on the street below, and I wonder where the people inside are going. What their lives are like.
I bring the joint back to my lips and think about Jameson. I haven’t been back to the garage since that day I met him. I’ve been waiting for Johnny to bring me along, but he hasn’t, and I haven’t wanted to burden him by asking.
Still, in the few weeks that have passed, my mind keeps drifting back to Jameson. I want to know more about him, to learn who he is when he isn’t being someone else.
I hate that I can’t just go see him. That I can’t go see anyone or do anything. I have to rely on someone to bring me places. I have to ask my father’s permission. It feels like my whole life is dictated by other people, and I’m sick of it.
I feel so restless, so trapped inside myself, like there’s this overwhelming need to escape.
Without thinking, I stub out the joint, slip back inside, and save the other half of it for later.
Then I slide on my shoes and climb back out through the window, moving to the edge of the roof and making my way down the side of the house.
My heart drops when I nearly slip, but I use the nearby tree to steady myself.
I don’t usually sneak out like this. The risk of getting caught never feels worth it, and walking around alone at night in my neighborhood isn’t exactly smart. But tonight, I don’t care about the risks. I need to get out of here. I just need to fucking breathe.
My feet hit the grass, and I duck below the living room window, crawling until I’m out of view. I start down the street, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I haven’t been caught.
I’m not even sure where I’m going. It doesn’t matter, really. I just need to move. To breathe. To have nothing holding me in place.
I’m not sure how long I walk for. The sounds of night fold around me, my footsteps creating a steady rhythm. My mind empties out until I feel nothing but numb. My head has gone fuzzy, my body a weightless thing.
I look up at the streetlights, wondering if they’ve always burned this brightly. Blinking up at them, I feel tears streak down my face. I don’t bother to wipe them away. Instead, all I think about are my moving feet. On getting farther and farther away.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
I turn down a street that’s gone quiet. The signs are all dark and parking lots abandoned. It must be really late now, but I have no way of knowing the time.
You should go home, a voice in my head says.
Shh, I tell it.
My legs are beginning to ache. A warmth spreads through them, making it feel like they’re vibrating. I don’t mind the sensation—it gives me something to focus on.
I keep walking.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
The trees around me rustle as a breeze drifts across my face. I close my eyes and let my head fall back. When I open them again, I notice the space around me is suddenly brighter.
I turn to look over my shoulder and see headlights break through the darkness. The car is the only one on the road, causing a chill to run down my spine as it approaches.
Reality comes crashing down on me when I notice just how alone I am out here. How stupid I’ve been to walk this far on my own. I have nothing with me that I could use as a weapon. I don’t even own a phone. What was I thinking?
I glance around for an answer, like someone will magically tell me what to do. But there’s nobody out here. Just me and the car closing in behind me.
Do I run? Find somewhere to hide?
I shake my head. It’s just the weed, I tell myself. It’s making me paranoid. They’ll probably drive past, and I’ll have worried for nothing.
But when I chance another glance over my shoulder, I notice the car is definitely driving way too slowly.
Fuck.
They’re close enough that they can see me now.
There’s no time to run. No time to hide.
I begin to shake and pray to a god I don’t believe in that if they save me right now, I promise I won’t ever do anything this stupid again.
The lights become brighter as the car approaches. It slows to a roll, and my heart begins to violently pound.
I’m just about to take off into a sprint, at least try to give myself a fighting chance, when I hear a familiar voice.
I freeze when they call out my name.