A Home From Nothing

Purple, orange and pink streaks across the sky as I, Ophelia Gage walk hurriedly down the sidewalk. It’s about 8 in the evening on a beautiful summer day, too bad its gone to s**t. A nice cool breeze blissfully runs across my neck as I adjust my bag slung over my left shoulder. The bus stop is just a few blocks away and the next bus out of here leaves in an hour, *checks watch* It’s actually 8:23pm, scratch that, 47 minutes. I pick up the pace, not worrying to look over my shoulder. They never follow. Even when its 2 am and a school night. They never cared where I went, as long as the house was kept clean and I stayed away from them. That’s how I was able to save up the money for the bus I’m about to take out of this shitty town. I have lived in Bolivar Tennessee my whole life, all 16 years of it. My dad is an accountant for a whiskey tycoon in the city and my mom spends her days online shopping and drinking Langston's Whiskey. “We must support my husband,” mother would say with a huge smile, to anyone who tried denying a drink on their visit. Her way of guilting them into drinking so she could have one too without looking like the lush she is. I double check my watch. Perfect timing, one more left and it's a 2 minute trek to the station. That leaves enough time to stop at the vending machine before heading to the terminal. This could be a long trip and I don’t want to get off the bus for any reason until I make it to Chicago. I'll find a job at a restaurant that won't ask questions and from there…… well I really don’t know but anything is better than that house. I won’t let them hurt me anymore. It’s not my fault they got pregnant their senior year. It’s not my fault I was born. But they punish me for it anyway. I wipe at the liquid dripping from my left eye, not sure if its a genuine tear or blood from the spit in my brow. My hand comes away red so I find a bathroom before heading to the ticket counter. In the bathroom I set my bag on the vanity in the driest spot I can find and take a moment looking myself over. My black hair is pulled out of my face with a headband even though it’s only just below my ears, grey eyes slightly red from the crying, my freckles are prominent against my pale skin. The blood, now dry and starting to flake off, looks terrifying. Good thing I stopped in here. The less questions, the better today. I grab a handful of paper towels and dampen them with cool water. The compress feels amazing on my burning forehead. She got me good this time with that pan. I can still see the glint from it as she swung it at me. Once I don’t look like I’ve gone 3 rounds in a boxing ring I make my way to the ticket booth. “I’m heading to Chicago. One way please.” I say quietly. The woman behind the desk lifts her eyebrow at me ”I’m going to my dads for the summer, my parents split. They can’t agree on when I’m coming back.” I offer, hoping she lets it go at that. The woman shrugs and clicks a few things on the computer before the printer behind her whirs to life, printing what looks like a mini travel guide. She picks up the stack, double checks all the information is in order and then hands it to me. ”Make sure you stay awake, you have a couple changeovers and they wait for no one. Don’t leave your things unattended and don’t talk to strangers.” The woman says eyeing me before shaking her head and turning away. I head through the gate to the right where I see seating and terminal numbers. Once I find terminal 3, I locate a vending machine that’s thankfully on the back wall before the seating section for my designated terminal. Picking out some chips, crackers, peanuts and a candy bar I feed the money in, just enough for one item at a time. After a moment a line forms behind me so I stick with just that and head to my section. I find a spot next to a mother and her crying baby, the woman looks at me with an apologetic expression and then goes back to tending to the poor thing. I board my bus the minute the doors opened and found a seat in the back, just a couple rows up from the bathroom. I dig through my bag for my headphones and the old phone I’ve been using for the better part of 6 months. It’s not the most advanced there is but it’s only a little over 3 years old. I accepted it as payment for a particularly easy night of babysitting. The Jeffersons had been gone for an hour and 45 minutes before Mrs Jefferson ended up being called into work. I was digging through the junk drawer in the kitchen for some batteries when they rushed through the door startling me so much I knocked the drawer off of the track and onto the floor. As Mr. Jefferson helped me pick it up, I found the phone and asked if it was an old one they don’t use. I asked if I could buy it from him but he suggested taking it as payment for the day and I eagerly accepted it. It was my first chance to have a phone and I have done everything in my power the last few months to keep it hidden from my parents. I knew if they found it they would break it. It was so rare to have something my parents couldn’t take away from me. Once, I forgot to do the laundry before going to school and my mom took all my clothes except 2 pair of jeans, 2 shirts, 2 underwear and no bras. She was livid because there was supposedly a bra she wanted to wear that day in the wash and it was my fault she couldn’t wear it, since I didn’t swap the laundry. I still don’t know why she couldn’t have just thrown it in the dryer herself. I was 13 and just starting to show the blossom of womanhood. She did it to humiliate me. Unfortunately, it worked. I spent 2 months wearing the same clothes and let’s just say, 8th grade kids are mean.