Silent Runner

When I got home I was too invested in my thoughts of Riley to notice the extra car in the drive. How could I prove to her that I just wanted to help? What could I possibly say or do to reassure her that I just want to be her friend? Something in me was certain she needed a friend as badly as I had when I first arrived here.

“Hey Martha!” I called out as I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag by the door.

When I finally looked up, I froze. I couldn’t help the painful longing to run to the woman in front of me; anymore then I could help my heart racing or the fear and anger that clawed at my chest.

The emotions hit me so suddenly and were so conflicting I was certain I was going to explode.

“Hi, Ethan.” The woman said, shifting nervously.

She had naturally tan skin and bright green eyes like me, but her chocolate brown hair was pulled back messily. She was painfully thin and looked at least twenty years older than she had five years ago. Her face was covered in sores and she couldn’t seem to sit still.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I felt like there was something squeezing my chest and I fought to catch my breath. I took a shaky step backwards. I couldn’t feel my feet but I stumbled back to the door ripping it open.

It was too hot, I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t stop shaking. So I did what I did best and I ran. I ran faster than I had in years into the forest behind my aunt’s place.

I ran until I collapsed on the forest floor. I pulled my legs tightly to my chest and sobbed as the memories overcame me once again.

I felt so pathetic. I was a man, men are supposed to be strong. We are supposed to face things head on. We are not supposed to run away and hide. I was a coward; weak, pathetic, and broken.

I had thought I was passed this. All the medications, doctors, psychologists, it all meant nothing. At that moment I was back to square one.

I don’t know how long I sat there fighting to breathe, but at some point I began to notice my surroundings again. I was sitting on a damp patch of grass surrounded with massive oaks and spruce trees mostly. I could hear birds chirping and insects humming. It was peaceful and calm.

Washington had all seemed to clean, too green, at first. However, like so much else, I had grown to love it. I had learned to love the way the rain made everything seem new and fresh. Like in this place alone, every day could be a fresh start. A new you around every corner.

That thought made me realize that things had changed. I was not the same person I had been back then. I wasn’t twelve, I wasn’t helpless, and I wasn’t alone. This time she was alone.

I took a ragged breath squeezing my eyes shut. Why did she have to come here? I was happy for the first time ever, and she just had to come in and ruin it once again.

I would never go back with her. I would fight tooth and nail until I turned eighteen and even the courts couldn’t make me. I took a shaky breath. Martha would fight for me, I know she would.

That thought comforted me and for the first time since I had seen her. I took in a deep steady breath.

No, I wasn’t alone anymore, and I wasn’t a coward. With that thought I stood and headed back towards the house. I had to face this. Even if all I could say to her was go to hell, I had to say it.

I placed my hand on the door knob but couldn’t seem to get myself to twist it. I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut for a second. When I finally opened them I locked my jaw and forced myself to push the door open.

I followed the sound of crying into the kitchen. My aunt was setting a plate of cookies on the table as my mother cried in my normal spot with her back to me.

“What lies have you been feeding him? He hates me now.” Her voice was raspy and broken, and part of me wanted to fix everything for her.

She was my mother, and she had been through hell and back. I knew that, but I still couldn’t get myself to forgive what she had put me through. I had loved her blindly, tried to protect her, I would have done anything for her. Somehow she had never been able to see that.

I knew she was addicted, not only to drugs and alcohol but to men. I had spent years fighting off her abusive boyfriends and wondering how she always found another one. When they started attacking me first, I was sure she would step in, I had been wrong.

For years I would take the beatings trying to keep them off of her but that last night, when she laughed as her man pulled a gun on me I realized I was fighting a losing battle. I had thought I was going to die. I could still remember what she had said when the bullet only hit my left arm.

“Oh, come on Greg. You aren’t that bad of an aim. You are always saying he eats you out of house and home.” She giggled as she threw back yet another shot of whiskey.

“Mom!” I had cried, terrified and bleeding.

“Don’t call me that, kid. It makes me feel old.” She laughed.

I had run from the house so fast neither of them had a chance to react. Greg had followed me outside shooting the gun down the street. The cops had showed up taking them both away and I had landed here.

I reached up massaging the scar on my left bicep as I remembered that night. I reminded myself once again that everything had changed. I wasn’t the weak one this time. Also I had love and support I had always craved, even if it wasn’t from her.