Chapter Two point Two

Nothing happened.

 I groaned in dissapointment.  We were so totally screwed.  We sat there, staring at each other in the dim interior of the car.  Maybe we should just give up. This is NOT how I thought it would be.

“Do they have any other cars?” Austin asked.  I thought for a minute.

“Yes, there is the station wagon parked beside the ranch house.  It’s the one Jolene always drives.  She’s the librarian in town.  But they’d hear it.  We’d get caught.” I told him.

“What if we roll it away from the house before we start it?” He asked.  I thought about it. But I don’t want to take the car that they need…I wanted to take the old one that nobody cared about.  I like them, they are good people…but we have to go.. What do I do?  

“Let’s go check it out.” I said, my heart heavy.  The Rancher had always been good to me.  Bruce was his name.  He taught me how to take care of the horses.  He let me pet them, feed them.  He showed me how to halter and tie, how to lead.  He let me play with the foals and walk amongst the pregnant mares in the meadows. He took me with him to horse shows and let me follow him around, learning everything I could.  He was a better friend to me than my own parents had been.  You shouldn’t take the car. He’s a good man. -Yeah but they can get another car with the insurance money.  Once it’s reported missing and stuff they will be able to buy a new car, and as long as you don’t get caught with it they won’t ever know. But what if you get caught? - If I get caught I’ll kill myself.  I don’t want to go back there.  Not ever.  They hate me.  Everyone hates me.  My mom, my dad, the kids at school.  I’ve got to get away.

Mom loves you! - No she doesn’!  She punished me when I woke up in the hospital after I tried to kill myself a few months back.  She ignored me and didn’t even ask “Why?”  She just went home to a vodka tonic and left me alone in my room.  Why didn’t she ask why???  I would have told her that the boy I had a crush on raped me that day.  That I lost my virginity, that he laughed at me and called me a whore. I would have told her that my whole world went black.  That my soul felt dead.  That everything in my life was wrong and ruined and hurting.  - They wouldn’t have believed you anyways.  They say you’re a useless little bitch.  That’s what they say.

 We snuck over to the house, peeking out from behind the bushes.  The moon hid slightly behind the house and the car was in shadow. I took a deep breath and crouched behind the car, opening the door closest to the bushes.  The keys were in the ignition.  I nodded at Austin, turning the keys backwards, unlocking the steering wheel and putting the car in nuetral.  The interior of the car smelled like road dust and vanilla. We began pushing it slowly down the gravel driveway - away from the house.  The rocks creaked and crackled beneath the tires and my heart pounded with fear and adrenaline.

Finally we were as far away as we could be.  We’d have to chance starting it now and driving away.  I hopped into the drivers seat, closing the door so gently that it barely latched.  I held my breath as I turned the key and started the engine.  The car roared to life.  Keeping the headlights off I turned down the lane - the car now hidden by the giant trees.  I always loved riding the horses down this lane through the trees.  It’s so beautiful.  - Yeah - You won’t be doing that anymore. - It doesn’t matter.  Nothing matters except getting away from here.  They will hate you. -  So what?  Everybody hates me.

We drove away from the small backwater hamlet and I buried my guilt deep within my heart.  It lay blanketed in loathing, fear and pain so deep I couldn’t even feel it.

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“What happened next?” The psychologist asked, peering with genuine interest over his glasses.  I shook my head. What had I told him?  I couldn’t remember.  Did I say everything or was some of that in my head.  I stared at him blankly, acutely aware that my legs were both stuck to the leather chair.  I hate leather furniture when it's hot out.

“What happened after you stole the car?” He said.

“Well, we almost fucking died.” I snapped at him, and stared at the carpet, at his foot in it’s black leather shoe.  At the laces falling just so.  Finally I sighed and sat back in the chair, looking up at him.

“We decided to head East.  To go to see my Uncle and his family.  They always had such a normal family.  No divorce.  No fighting.  Not much money but so much love.  I always wanted to have that.  There was also a boy there that I met once that I liked - and I thought he liked me.  So we were driving on the highway towards Manitoba.  Just after we passed Calgary, I’d say about two hours in, I was tired so I asked Austin to drive…”

_______________________________________________________________

What the hell is going on? I thought as I awoke suddenly, thrown to the side of my seat.  I sat up instantly, hearing Austin scream “Oh my God!” as he rapidly spun the wheel first one way, and then the other.  Then we were spinning, spiraling madly down the highway.  The rubber of the tires shrieked and there was no time to do anything except scream.  Time slowed to the spaces between my heartbeats and I saw the solid line of the highway, giving way to the ditch.

“Hold on!” I screamed as we spun around, the car falling backwards, rolling into a steep gully.  The side of the hill was bumpy and seemed to go on forever.  I envisioned us falling off a cliff, hitting a tree, exploding.  

The car stopped.  I sat in the passenger seat, breathing heavily.  Looking wildly around.  Austin was trembling, his face buried in his hands on the steering wheel.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!!” He repeated, breathless and terrified.

“It’s okay.” I said and hugged him.  ”We’re okay! It’s over!”  He lifted his head and opened his eyes.

 ”We’re okay?” He said, looking puzzled.  Then he smiled.  I smiled back at him and our euphoria at being alive kicked in.  We hadn’t exploded!  We weren’t hurt.  We were okay!  We laughed until our sides hurt - discharging the nervous tension and adrenaline.  Then we got out of the car to take stock of the damage.

Chapter Two point One

Headlights appeared on the gravel road behind us. My brother and I were headed towards the Appaloosa ranch. The night was quiet and still.  It was about 2 am. “Austin get down!” I hissed at him in an angry whisper.  We needed to not be seen.  He rolled his eyes at me.  We crouched down behind the tall grass in the ditch by the culvert and waited for the moment. The croaking chorus of the frogs in the creek again filled the night and we continued down the lane.

The trees hid our exodus.  A massive parallel of cottonwoods on each side of the lane stretching towards the ranch.  The moonlight shone it’s white glow between the shadowns of the sleeping giants.  We crept from one to the next, more out of a guilty concious than of crime committed.  But we had the intention to commit a crime.  I wanted out of this place, out of this life.  I had to get away.  I had a plan.  We would take the old jetta from the Rancher.  The one that sat alone in the tall grass that no one ever used.  We’ll just borrow it. I told myself. No one is using it anyways. They probably won’t even notice that it’s gone.  

“How long do you think it will take them to notice we aren’t there?” Austin asked.

“Well they passed out so fucking drunk I think they might sleep in.  At that point they’ll wonder where we are but it will probably be a few hours before they figure it out.” I said, tucking my loosly hanging hair behind my ears.

 I worried about the youngsters, only 4, 6 and 11 that we had to leave at home.  Shit.  You’re supposed to protect them. What are they going to do without you?  I don’t know…I don’t know.  I just can’t be there anymore.  I’m not their mother.  Maybe Mom and Dad will think twice about having raging daily drunk-fests if Austin and I arent there to take care of the kids and clean up afterwards.  This never would have happened if they hadn’t opened a fucking liquor store beside the house and started drinking every day.  They don’t even have real friends.  Just people who come over to sit and drink and talk shit about the other neighbors.

We reached the last tree, the one with the oval scar that puckered around the edges where one of it’s limbs had been severed decades before.  We hid behind it and searched about with our eyes, straining our ears.  Nothing.  We crouched and crossed the open space to the Jetta in the moonlight.  One of the horses whickered nervously, smelling our approach on the air.  ”It’s okay.” I whispered.  ”Quit now, it’s just us, go back to sleep…we’re just going to borrow this car and leave you be.”  I set my backpack down and looked through the window.  The keys were still there, above the visor. I opened the door.

There was no light, no sound. The darkness of the night compounded with the black color of the car and I couldn’t see. “Hey, can you get the flashlight?” I asked my brother.

“Yeah, here.” He said, turning it on.  We placed our stuff in the back seat and sat down in the front.  I smiled at him as I plucked the key from the visor and inserted it into the ignition.  Freedom here we come!  I turned the key.  Nothing happened.  No sound, no spark, no rollover…nothing.

“Fuck!” I swore, trying again.  Still nothing.

“The battery must be dead.” Austin said.  Shit.  I thought. Where the hell are we going to get a boost?  I don’t even know how to USE jumper cables.  Not that we could get anyone to boost the Jetta in the middle of the night so that we could steal it.    I closed my eyes and pushed my head back into the seat, taking a deep breath. I opened my eyes and I saw it. The truck.  It was the hay-hauler.  The one they only used once or twice a week to take bales out to the pasture.  It has to have a battery.  All batteries are the same aren’t they?  I thought.

“Austin!  Let’s get the battery out of the truck!” I exclaimed.  His brown eyes brightened and he smiled his toothy grin. We got out of the car and dashed across the yard, throwing caution to the wind.  The truck, like the car, was unlocked and had it’s keys in the visor.

“Why don’t we just take the truck?” Austin asked.  

“Because there is more gas in the car.” I persuaded.  We didn’t have very much money.  About $25 between us from saving up our baby sitting money, and the coins we took from the dresser in the master bedroom.  It wasn’t much, but it was enough for a tank of gas.  Maybe we’d get a few hundred miles away. Then we’d have to figure something else out.  I popped the latch on the truck and Justin opened the hood.  He took out the battery and carried it over to the car.  I watched as he deftly removed the old battery and put in the bigger one.  The moment he connected the cables the light came on in the car and the dinger started going off! The sound of the dinging was like a trumpet in my ears - certainly announcing our presence.  I lept into the car and removed the keys.  The din stopped.  I sighed with relief.

“Get in!” I whispered excitedly.  ”Close the door. Gently! Let’s get out of here!”

Please God. I prayed and turned the ignition.

Chapter One

Have you ever composed a suicide note in your head?  I mean have you really thought about what you would say to to the world on your way out?  Sometimes the sentences string together flawlessly in my mind. Of course the first thing somebody asks you when you tell them you feel like dying is “Why?”  Of course I ask myself this question all the time.  

Why? Why? Why? 

I don’t understand

You don’t understand.

That’s right I don’t understand.

What is it that you don’t understand?

Life, the universe, everything.  I just don’t know the right way. I don’t know the answer.

You’re telling me that you feel like dying because you don’t know the answer to the meaning of life, the universe and everything?

Well…it’s a bit more complicated than that.  The answer is 42.  It’s the question I’m stumped on.

At that point I make myself laugh.  Those that have read the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy will get my drift.  But there is so much truth in my sentance.

 I don’t understand.  I don’t understand what the point of life is in the face of so much personal tragedy.  I don’t understand why my father hates me, why my mother killed herself and why I can get straight A’s but can’t make enough money to pay my bills.  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand how people can become soulless and greedy.  I don’t understand humanity.  I don’t understand why my baby had to die. I am an unknown soul.  No one knows me.  They know bits and pieces but not all.  The stories are too deep, too vast, too dark.  The secrets are dangerous, the truth painful.

Maybe you need to tell them.

Tell who?

Tell the stories.

Oh, yeah.  Those. Where could I possibly start?

Start with one that scares you.  That you fear people will find out.  Other stories will come.  Don’t try to write them in order.  Just let it flow out of you.

16 years old. Standing in line at the convenience store I’m counting out change to the teller.  It feels so odd to be paying someone.  I haven’t counted out coins in years.  I haven’t paid for anything.  I was locked up.  I feel the anxiety rising up in me, unspeakable panic, unused to the real world.  I dump the change on the counter and look at her.  ”Can you just take what I owe you, please, actually - just keep all of it.”  I grab the coke and head out the door.  Walking towards the house, staring at the ground.  An empty chip bag catches the wind and bounces across the road.  I am like that chip bag. Hollowed out. Empty. Finished.

I had just come from His office.  The one that they want me to talk to.  The one who is supposed to “fix” me.  Leather chairs stick to your skin when you sweat and I remember peeling my leg off slowly, and laying it back down.  They can’t make me talk about it.  They can’t make me go back there. I can’t do it….I can’t…

But I did. I went back to the dark, to running away from home, back to the rapes, to the terror, back to when I lost my mind in the mountains of Northern Idaho.  I went there for a split second - and then my mind suddenly went blank.  I couldn’t remember anything.  I stared at the old man with the kind eyes and the glasses and said nothing.  I peeled my leg off the chair again.

“Why did you steal the car?” He had asked.

Because I had to get out of there. I had to DO something.  I needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere people wouldn’t call me names and tell me how useless I was. Somewhere with normal people, real family.  A place I could be wanted, loved, taught. A place I could control. Somewhere without lies, betrayls and hypocrisy.  Somewhere else…anywhere.

“How old were you?”

I was fourteen.