freedom taste like you

Chapter 6

Why was I doing this again?

Oh, right…to save myself.

I groaned in frustration, pushing through branches that whipped against my arms as I kept running through the dark. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I had to keep going. Running was the only thing that made sense anymore. The only thing that felt like hope.

If I just kept running...

“Amy!!!”

My whole body jolted awake. My father’s voice thundered through the air, dragging me out of the dream. My chest rose and fell fast as I sat up, my hair sticking to my forehead with sweat.

It was just a dream. Of course it was.

It always is.

Can I ever really get out of here?

No. Probably not.

I sighed heavily and rubbed my face before climbing out of bed. My legs felt heavy, but fear gave me the strength to move. I hurried down the corridor and into the living room where my father was standing, his expression already twisted in irritation.

“Why weren’t you here before me?” he demanded. “I always come down and find you waiting. Why not today?”

My stomach sank. He was already angry, and I had no excuse. My mind raced to come up with something, anything.

But before I could speak, his hand connected sharply with my face.

The sting spread instantly, burning across my cheek. I stumbled back, clutching my face, the taste of iron filling my mouth.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?” he said, stepping closer, his voice quiet but venomous.

“I— I didn’t mean to, Dad,” I stammered. “I just— I slept late, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hit you,” he shouted suddenly, his voice cracking through the house. “I keep holding myself back, but you…you keep pushing me to beat the s**t out of you!”

He shoved me hard. My back slammed against the sharp corner of the corridor wall. Pain shot through my side, but I stayed silent, biting my lip so hard it almost bled.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall, not yet.

He glared down at me, disgust twisting his face.

“I hate that you’re so useless. You make me sick! I take back everything. You’re not! and I repeat, not! meant to leave this house. Ever!”

He stormed out, the door slamming so loud it rattled the windows.

Only then did I let go. The sobs came out of me like I’d been holding my breath for years. I sat there on the cold floor, staring blankly at the front door through blurry vision, wondering...

If my mother came back, would things be different?

If I had a sister, would he still do this?

If I had anyone... would they save me?

The thoughts came in waves until the tears slowed into silence. I forced myself up, every muscle aching, and told myself I should probably start making his breakfast before he came back. If I didn’t, he’d find another reason to punish me.

Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed, hair brushed back, fake smile glued on. When I realized he wasn’t home yet, relief washed through me. I rushed to the kitchen, preparing breakfast as quietly as possible. I made a small portion for myself and hid it in my room, he could never know I’d eaten first.

By the time I set his food on the table, I felt a flicker of pride, a strange, fleeting feeling of control. I grabbed my hidden plate, went to my room, and ate everything quickly, like I hadn’t eaten in days.

When I came back to clean up, I paused. Something didn’t make sense.

How did he get all this food?

We were supposed to be in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t a*****e, a road, not even a power line for miles. My stomach knotted as realization crept in.

Maybe... maybe we weren’t as far from town as he said.

If that was true—

“Why are you smiling like that?”

I froze. His voice came from behind me. He was sitting at the table, staring at me over his plate, one eyebrow raised.

My heart skipped. I hadn’t even heard him come in.

“N-nothing,” I said quickly, turning to leave. But before I could, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was cold and heavy, like iron.

“Don’t even think of escaping, young lady,” he said, his voice low and mocking. “There’s no hope for that. I brought food with me from the old house, packed it all before we left.”

He smirked, let go of my wrist, and went back to eating as if nothing had happened.

I stood there for a moment, shaking, then turned and walked back to my room. This time, I made sure not to slam the door, no matter how much I wanted to.

Inside, the air felt suffocating. Rage bubbled up in my chest until I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I hate him!” I whispered harshly, tugging at my hair, pacing the small room. “I hate him so much! Why won’t he just leave me alone?”

Tears blurred my vision again, but this time, I didn’t sit down to cry. I went to the window.

It opened quietly. The cool air brushed against my face, and for a second, I felt alive. Thank God this house had no stairs, if it did, I might have second-guessed what I was about to do.

But I wasn’t second-guessing anything. Not anymore.

I swung one leg out the window, holding onto the frame. My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear my own breath. I slipped the other leg out, careful not to make a sound, and lowered myself onto the ground outside.

Then, without looking back, I closed the window slowly, sealing that chapter of my life behind glass.

And I ran.

The cold morning air bit at my face, the earth soft beneath my feet, but I didn’t stop. I ran harder, faster, tears streaming down my cheeks as laughter broke out of me, a wild, desperate laugh that sounded nothing like joy.

This was exactly like the dream. The same breathless running, the same fear clawing at my throat.

But this time, it wasn’t a dream.

This time, I was really leaving.

I didn’t care where I went, or how far I’d get. All I knew was that I was finally, finally, away from him.

Away from the worthless man I once called my father.