Hate is my friend. Hate is my constant companion. It is fueled by my anguish, and the children’s ringing laughter. Their taunts and teases resound in my ears. Mama, make it stop.
Here I stand, alone, without an expression on my face. My head is screaming, and tearing inside of me. The sounds of the playground sound far away. I am off on the far side. I stare at the opening between the trees, the opening to freedom. The playground is surrounded by a thin forest, and outside of that is a small suburban neighborhood. No fence.
Home. Not the place where I currently live, but somewhere else. A real home. Free from the angry drunken father who comes home late at night, and the empty space where a woman once lived. A place where there is peace. That is what I seek.
I slowly inch toward the opening, the window to my future, inconspicuously. No one notices. No one ever does. I am at the entrance to my freedom, the exit to my hell. I turn my head back and look at the children, their happiness flows over me, and I wonder why I am not one of them. Why am I different?
The teacher is not looking. I am ready. A sharp cold wind blows with me as if bidding me to go now. I think I hear footsteps, and freeze. Never mind, it is just my heart, beating faster.
I recollect my readiness, and without a backward glance I whish off. I run and run, moving my skinny legs as fast as they can move. Running, jumping, flying, I romp through the streets. An ache in my side begs me to slow, but I can’t. Soon, the world seems deserted so I drop behind a bush to catch my breath. My lungs take in the air, and beg for more. They seem to be on fire.
The wind blows again, sharper and stronger this time. I cannot hear the school sounds, so for now I am safe. No one will notice my absence. No one ever notices little Maxy.
I continue the next part of my journey with stealth moves. I dart between the houses, and lurk in the shadows. Sometimes, I think I hear a woman’s voice calling my name. Is it teacher? Quick! Hide! But no one is ever there.
I remember, in the days before my father took up drinking, how people explained to me about dying. They said my mother left, and went to a wondrous place called Heaven. The strangers said she’d always be watching over me. I didn’t understand. How could someone have left if she was only in a wooden bed across the room, sleeping? Heaven didn’t sound so nice, if how you got there was by being lowered into a hole in a box.
I am walking down by a busy street. There are creeks bordering both sides, so the cars were separated from me by a thin metal railing. It looked like a car could easily take the railing down, then I remembered. I remembered a great twisting, and spinning, and screams of pain, and the scrape of metal. The ‘accident’ people called it.
There is a small hill that leads down to where I am. The cars rush past, above, on the top of the hill. I try to keep sloshing along, but the muck tugs at my shoes. I yank my sinking foot out, and try to run through the slosh.
“…And I will love you, like the stars love the moon…” I sing quietly to myself. I do not remember where I heard that song, but it makes me less afraid.
I spy with my little eye a gas station. Up ahead. It has a flashing display on the sign. 3:30, it boasts. School is out; father will be looking for me. He said if he ever catches me trying to leave again, he’ll hit me until I don’t have any skin left to beat. That was the last time I’ve tried to escape, until now.
I rummage through my worn pockets for some change, and then remember that my lunch money was stolen earlier this morning. I pass the gas station dejectedly, as my stomach growls with emptiness.
The wind howls with more ferocity, and I try to squeeze out all the warmth from my think coat. I need to find some place to stay; my fingers have lost their feeling.
I am walking beside the road now, the creek as ended. Cars zoom by me, and I wonder why no one stops. Then I remember, no one notices Maxy. Darling little Maxy, his mother’s precious little boy, his father’s pride and joy. That was long ago, though.
It is growing dark. I am shaking with the cold, and I look out to see a small clustering of lights ahead. A town, my brain tells me. I run to it, but my legs are so numb, that it’s like trying to run through pudding.
I am passing through quiet valleys; large buildings surround me like mountains everywhere. One store has a large colorful display, advertising Christmas. ‘Only 18 more days!’ it claims.
I see a bus stop. The sign says the bus doesn’t run after dark, but that’s not why I rush toward it. The Plexiglas enclosure provides some heat. I lean against one of the walls, and close my eyes. I am tired.
I hear a voice. ‘Maxy’ it calls. I awaken, and see my mother standing in the small entrance to my shelter. ‘Come with me, Maxy, I will take you home.’ I am not afraid of this sudden appearance of my mother. I willingly follow her. As I stand up and approach her, I notice that my body doesn’t not follow. Just my spirit. ‘We cannot leave it behind, we need to go back.’ I plead to her.
She smiles kindly, and sings my special song. I remember now, she sang that song to me when I was young.
All my fears and pains are erased as she and I, hand in hand, flow into the light.
‘Welcome home.’
Max Finds Home - Bluekittygal (Me.)