Road Trip (15+)

I don't know where I'm going, and sure as heck don't care. I just need to get out of this town. Get away from the constant drama. I need to live my life. I have to get away before this town devours me. Now, step aside, as I got on a heck of a road trip.


2. No Turning Back Now

I called McDonalds and quit my job. I had enough money saved up to get me to Washington, at least. Tonight I am going to leave this town. I am going to go as far away as possible. I was in my room, the lights dim, writing a note to my parents.


Dear Mom and Dad,

                                I don’t know if you have noticed yet, but I have left. I am tired of all your stupid fighting and I have to leave this town. I hope that you realize how thick headed you are. Both of you don’t give a crap about me and I am tired of being forgotten.  I have saved up enough money, and I will be fine. Don’t call me, don’t come looking for me. I want to leave. I don’t know if I will ever see you guys again.




I looked at my note satisfied. I grabbed my duffle bag and started shoving my clothes into the large bag. I ran over to my dresser and packed up my tiny bit of makeup and jewelry. I put on my grey hoodie and a pair of comfortable skinny jeans. Then, I ran over to the creaky floorboard in my room and lifted it up. There was my stack of my money piled neatly in hundreds. Quickly, I grabbed the stash and shoved it in my bag. I looked at the clock and realized that it was 3 AM. I sighed and finished packing my laptop and chargers. I grabbed my phone and slipped on a pair of converse. My backpack felt like a ton of bricks on my shoulders. I took one last look at my room.

My attention turned over to my window. I used to look out that window while my parents fought, and imagined what it would be like when I got out of this prison.

My eyes flickered over to a corner in my room. I sat there almost every night when I was fourteen years old. My boyfriend was abusive, and my parents didn’t care. I would sit there, and pray that the bruises would go away.

I turned over to my closet. When I was twelve years old I would lock myself in there and play dolls. I would listen to my music and drown out real life. My dolls were my family. The loved me, and cared for me.

Lastly, I looked over at my bed. On my sixteenth birthday I sat there and cried the whole night. The love of my life left me, and my parents completely forgot that it was my birthday.

I wiped away the tears that were falling down my cheeks and closed my door quietly. It was weird, knowing that I will never see that room again. I tip-toed down the hallway and looked into our living room. I had so many memories in that room. I learned how to walk in there, I had my first kiss in there, I had so many good memories in that room.

But I also had bad ones.

My mom would play with her ‘man toys’ in there, my ex-boyfriend beat me up in that room, and I also witnessed my father hitting my mom in that room. I inhaled a sharp breath and sat the letter down on the table. I took one last look at my house, and just stared bluntly at my feet. Am I making the right choice? Should I leave? Should I stay here and suffer the hell that I go through every day? I am doing the right thing. I have to leave. I looked around the house one more time, the shut the front door quietly behind me. I quickly ran to my car and jumped in. Once I turned the key, the engine roared to life, and I drove down the road. There’s no turning back now.





I know, I know, this is unbelievably boring. But I promise that it will get exciting soon! Thanks for reading!!


Claire :) xx

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