Run-Away Little Sister: Hurting

Chapter Four: Gone, Gone, Gone

ANASTASIA'S POV:

It was that night after James, Jackson, and Mason finished whipping me. They left me on the basement floor in tears, withering in pain, laying in my own pool of blood.

The wounds on my back were bad, and I'm pretty sure I lost consciousness at some point throughout the whipping and after they had left me alone.

Slowly though, I crawled my way up the stairs, catching the time when I made it to the top of the staircase. Twelve-fifty-seven in the morning.

It was grueling and I thought for sure I wasn't going to make it, but I was able to grab some kitchen rags and stop the bleeding for now. Then I made my way to the bathroom on the lower level.

I was able to peel the dirty, blood stained clothes and rags off my body and I pulled my shaky body into the bathtub, turning the shower head on, and slowly standing up, wincing as I moved too much with the added water beating down onto my already injured back.

Eventually I got the blood off my body and hair, and my body was slightly less tense. I wasn't on the adrenaline high anymore, and I could feel every single whip marking. From right below where my neck began, down to my thighs. There were cuts and whip markings littered across my skin.

It was slow progress, but when I finally got out of the shower it was two-thirty-seven, and my body didn't want to stay awake for another second. I fought through the pain though, and grabbed some bandages I kept in the bathroom and rolled it carefully around my entire torso, making sure to keep it tight enough to stop it from bleeding, but not tight enough to stop circulation.

Then I slowly made my way up the stairs, being careful not to make any noise.

The bloodied rags I once called clothes were in my hands, and I was heavily limping up the stairs. But it didn't matter because fifteen minutes later, I made it into my room, where I was able to throw the bloodied rags down, sit on my bed, and take a moment to think.

I thought I was going to die.

And even though, I want my brothers to change, I know they won't make that huge leap until something pushes them to do. I don't know if me leaving, would push them to become better, but it was worth a shot, because either way I couldn't stay here any longer.

Sighing heavily, I went towards my closet and started grabbing baggy clothes to put on my damaged body.

I grabbed underwear, a large sweatshirt, and large sweatpants that all rested loosely on my skinny body.

Then I sat back on my bed, I wanted to take a nap, but I couldn't afford to do that just yet. There was no time, it was already almost three in the morning and I only had until six to get out of here.

After a moment of sitting, I got back up and made my way towards my closest, grabbing my small luggage. I grabbed my comfy clothes, sweaters, sweatpants, underwear, bras, and placed them all in my suitcase.

Then I grabbed a pair of sandals, slide them on my feet, before grabbing a few pairs of socks and a pair of running shoes, placing them in my suitcase as well. I grabbed my emergency cash, which was around six thousand dollars (considering most of the money I had taken from my brothers when they weren't looking, and my parents had extra cash laying around as well) and a few photo albums I had from my younger years, and placed those in my suitcase as well. I zipped up the suitcase and looked around, I was making better time.

It was only three-o-seven in the morning, now.

I looked around my room and noticed a blank piece of paper, along with a pencil. I couldn't just leave without them knowing, and so I carefully made my way over to the small plastic desk and chair I had kept from when I was a child, so I had a place to do my homework, even now that I was fourteen.

Then I began writing the letter-

"To whom it may concern:

It's Anastasia here!

I just wanted to let everyone know, that breakfast is made, your clothes are picked out, and lunches are ready before I tell you what this note is really for-

I'm leaving.

It shouldn't come as a shock to you, but if it does, please remember-

I'm still the same girl I was seven years ago, I'm kind-hearted, considerate, and loving. I'm a human being. I was never the one to make the phone call to mommy and daddy, I let you believe I was because I didn't want you to harm my brother like you harmed me.

Now though, things have gone to far.

I still don't lie, you could have looked into my eyes and searched for the truth. Nathan did.

But you didn't.

And yesterday, I thought I was going to die by the hands of own brothers.

The same hands that held me so gently filled with love, are now the hands that hold me harshly with hatred running deep down. I wish I could stop this overwhelming pain, it's in my thoughts running around like a toy train and I know you think I'm to blame. But now, I've gotta go my own way.

Sometimes I wish I never got close with you. For years all you brought me was pain and hatred. I still can't help but remember the times when you brought me love and hope. I need to do what's best for me, and that means cutting you out.

Thank you for some of the best and worst years of my life, because of you I am who I am-

A strong, independent female.

But I'm also incredibly sad and broken-hearted.

Until we meet again,

-Anastasia Marie

P.S. - Nathan, I'm not angry with you. You were a kid, you had no control over the situation at hand, I'm just sorry I left before we could ever mend our relationship. I'll miss you.

P.P.S - Don't bother trying to find me. I don't want to be found."

It was now three-twenty-four and I felt rested enough that I could get my morning routine out of the way. As far as I'm concerned, as long as everything seems normal in the morning, they hopefully won't notice I'm gone until later, which would give me enough time to escape and get as far away as I possibly can.

So I got up, and made my rounds, picking out my brothers clothing as I silently limped in pain. A normally ten minute task took me twenty-five, and I knew I still had to make breakfast if I wanted to keep it a secret for as long as possible that I was leaving.

I went to my bedroom, quietly grabbing my suitcase and the letter, knowing I wouldn't be able to make it back upstairs and down without getting hurt. It took me fifteen minutes to get down the stairs quietly without hurting myself or dropping my small carry-on sized luggage.

Once to the bottom of the stairs, I rolled the luggage into the kitchen, sat down on one of the many island seats, and placed the letter on the table.

I'd take a small breather before beginning breakfast, and then I'd call for a taxi to get me to the nearest airport. I'd figure out what to do once I got to the airport. One step at a time. I was escaping and I needed to be careful if I wanted to succeed. 

Breakfast was nothing special, just some different cereals, some scrambled eggs, easy-made pancakes, and easy-made waffles. Once those were all finished, I called for the taxi that would be taking me away from my living nightmare and I couldn't have been more thrilled.

With the clock striking four in the morning, less than five minutes earlier, I knew that I had to make my move now. I was running out of time.

And once the taxi had been ordered, which took shorter than I had expected, I never felt such relief.

I turned the lights down to a dim setting, grabbed my luggage, and then walked my aching body out of the house I had practically been held captive in over the past seven years.

Everything would be alright.

I would make it out alive.

I had survived the night. I had survived the morning.

It was ten-forty and I was in a different state, on the other side of the country. I had gotten to the airport at four-thirty-six exactly, thanked the taxi driver, and got out carefully. I was aching, but nobody could know I was in pain or an unaccompanied minor, otherwise I'd just get sent back off home, and then I'd really be in for it.

I had been preparing for years to run, I just never had the courage to do so.

I had a fake note that stated my parents were divorced and I was visiting my father in another state, California, where he lived. I was legally allowed to fly unaccompanied without anyone stopping me.

The flight from Wisconsin to California took six hours, but because of time differences only seemed to be four. The flight had taken off four-forty and I could gladly say I escaped my living hell. I wasn't going back to Wisconsin for a long time.

The only thing I had to do next was find a place to sleep, find something to eat, and then find a job. Six thousand dollars is not a lot of money to live off of, which meant I'd need to work quick if I was meant to survive here in California.

But I'm one step closer to being okay, to living a life worth living.

I guess the saying is true-

'Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly. The moment when you're ready to quit is usually the moment right before a miracle happens. Life lesson? Just hang on a little bit longer.'

I hung on a little while longer, and now things are starting to turn around.

Everything will be alright.

The plane landed, I got away from the airport, using a taxi to take me thirty minutes away from the airport and to a*****e, where I was then able to buy a small tent, some snack bars, water bottles, and blankets.

I made my home under a bridge where there were a few other homeless people staying. I got to learn their circumstances and none of them were that bad, most just couldn't afford rent or lost their job, or were like me, leaving home because of problems that surrounded them.

After being here for three weeks, I got used to the warm weather and the dirty looks that came with being homeless. After four different job interviews, I still wasn't able to find a job that would hire me.

I was only fourteen after all.

Fourteen year olds shouldn't need jobs.

My savings were going to run out eventually, I doubt I'll have enough to last me until I turn sixteen so I can legally work. I have no I.D. to prove that I could be sixteen, and so I'm royally screwed.

I just want to cry.

I can't afford to buy myself a worker's permit, nobody wants to hire a child, and I'm still technically living outside in the elements.

Yes, I'm not being abused anymore.

Yes, nobody knows who I am and can't take me back to that hell house.

Yes, I'm finally free.

But then you have the overwhelming negative effects of me leaving.

No, I don't have a decent place to live.

No, I don't have proper clothes for the warm weather.

No, I don't have a job.

No, I don't have decent food that keeps me full.

No, I'm not in a decent mental health state.

If I just walked in front of a car, or stayed hungry long enough, maybe that could be my way out of the sucky life I'm forced to be living.

But of course, life is never that merciful to me.

It was later that day after another failed job interview, and I was walking back to my claimed spot under the bridge so I could hopefully sleep my sadness away.

"Excuse me."

A few teenage girls and teenage boys had stopped me, it was one of the older boys (he looked to be maybe sixteen) who had called out.

I kept walking, thinking that they weren't talking to me.

"Excuse me!" I felt a hand on my shoulder and I immediately froze, as flashbacks from that morning with Dane filled my mind.

"Woah, are you alright?" a different male voice asked.

"Max, you stupid i***t. You probably scared the poor girl." I heard another voice, this time it was a girls voice. She was able to knock me out of whatever trance the boy, Max, had put me into.

"Hello, I'm Kayla, Max's younger sister, the guy that put his hand on your shoulder. I apologize for him if it bothered you." the only girl who had spoken, Kayla, told me.

"Anyways, we've noticed you walking towards the bridge everyday and sleeping in a tent. Sorry if that's blunt." she spoke before apologizing, "Uh-but we've also noticed that you look like a younger version of someone we used to know, so we were wondering if it was at all possible that you could tell us your name."

"What?" I questioned, as I scanned the people in front of me.

There were three boys, all who looked to be fifteen or sixteen, and then there were three girls who looked to be fourteen or fifteen. 

Two of the boys looked identical, with brown hair and an adorable smile, the only difference being their style of clothes, one wore a hoodie, the other wore a thin shirt with a bomber jacket. The third boy had dark brown hair and wore a smirk over his face. 

One of the girls had brown hair matching the identical boys, while one of the other two girls had pink long hair, and the other had platinum blond almost white colored hair. The two girls with the fun looking hair colors were identical in every other way, though. 

"She asked what your name was." another girl spoke, the one with the pink hair, "Name's Jamie, I'm her twin sister. Sorry she's pretty blunt."

Why they were coming up to me? I had no idea, and I know you're not supposed to tell strangers your name, but honestly if they were serial killers or something along those lines then maybe they could be the ones to end it for me, and I wouldn't have to do any of the work myself.

And so, with the risks in my mind I decided to do one thing I never thought I'd ever do-

"I normally wouldn't answer, I'd probably keep walking, but let's be honest here-" I sighed heavily, "You all could easily overpower me, be serial killers, or whatever else, but I really don't care anymore. So my name is Anastasia Smith. Now if you'll excuse me."

I began walking past them.

"Your parents are Courtney and Dylan Smith?" an unfamiliar male voice asked, and I stopped in my tracks, turning around.

"Uh-yeah. They were my parents. Look I gotta go." I sighed, as I turned around yet again.

"Wait." a third feminine voice spoke, "My name is Layla, and I know you said you don't care if we're serial killers and could potentially kill you, but we'd all really appreciate it if you came with us, we have some people I think you'd want to meet."

"And if you decide to kill me?" I questioned.

"We'll feed you first and make it painless." a third male voice spoke, "I'm Luke, just so you know."

"I don't really care who you all are, but I'll come with you." I sighed, "I might regret it, but worst comes to worst, you kill me. So I'm okay with it."

"What made you not care?" the voice from before, who still didn't give me his name, spoke.

"Every shitty thing to happen in my shitty life?" I asked rhetorically.

"Then let me ask you this, are you okay?"

"Can I be honest with you?" I asked back, tired of the lies I had been telling everyone, including myself.

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you to be honest."

"No, I'm not okay, because it hurts. It hurts really bad, knowing that I tried my hardest and it wasn't good enough for them. It was never good enough, I wasn't good enough. Why wasn't I good enough?"

And for the second time that night, I did something completely out of character.

I broke down crying. 

Author's Note: 

Hello Everybody! 

Here's chapter four, I hope you guys enjoyed it. Chapter five will be out soon. Let me know your thoughts about this chapter in either the comments or by sharing this story with someone you think might like it. I'd greatly appreciate it. 

Thanks for reading! 

-Michaela {The Author} 

Original Version Published: February 19th. 2019 

Edited Version Published: July 23rd. 2021