Runaway
By: KK

Copyright @2001

The first time I ran away from home, I was nine years old. I had $17.30 that I had stolen from a charity can that I was supposed to be collecting for school. I only went to my friend Teresa's house a block away. I truly felt that I could start a new life with less than $20. Anything was better than living with my mother.

The night before, my mother had gone on one of her tangents. I was terrified of her and she loved the control. She came home from work and called me out of my room. I spent a lot of time in my room to avoid her.

She said, "I know that you wrote a letter to your Grandmother asking if you can come and live with her. Go get it."

I had no idea what she was talking about. I had never written such a letter. I was not allowed to argue with my mother or I would be back handed and possibly beaten. I told her that there was no such letter. In fact I kept insisting that this letter did not exist and that I had no desire to live with my Grandmother (although the letter did not exist, living with my Grandmother was a thought that crossed my mind). My mother would have none of it and refused to believe me. This went on for about ten minutes and she became furious. She insisted there was such a letter and kept insisting that I retrieve it.

She finally screams at me, "Go get the letter, it's under your mattress!"

I walked back to my room, searched under the mattress (truly believing that I would find a "planted" letter) and found nothing. When I returned without a letter, she went ballistic.

My mother's eyes twitch back and forth when she's angry and she always forced me to look into them. She put her face within inches of mine and sarcastically asked, "If there is no such letter, then why did you go look?"

I tried to feebly explain that she forced me to look and bring back something that didn't exist. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway, back to my room. She made me stand at the door and watch her trash my room. She stripped my bed, flipped mattresses, emptied drawers, etc. I thought she had gone mad. By the time she was done it looked as if a hurricane had torn through my room.

She instructed me to go out to the front yard and return with a switch from the tree. I did as I was told.

Bare bottomed, she released her frustration and whipped me until the switch broke in half. She demanded that I return to the front yard and get a new switch. She continued to whip me until she was exhausted. I knew better than to scream out. Screaming out would cause more whipping. I silently cried.

She left me with final instructions to clean up the mess and go to bed. I followed her instructions and that was the night that I sent my imaginary friend packing.

I used to talk to an imaginary friend (who I know believe was one of my spirit guides). It was a girl a little older than me. I never named her, but I would blame her for getting me in trouble, I would talk to her about daily events and basically confide in someone or something that I knew could never tell my mother my thoughts. That night, I felt that my imaginary friend had betrayed me and had gotten me into trouble. After I silently screamed at her and blamed her for everything, she never came back. It wasn't until much later in life that I saw this imaginary friend in a different light and regretted sending her away.

The next day I ran away. After forcing my sister to reveal my whereabouts, my mother caught me several hours later. Again I was whipped and restricted.