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My View Of A New House Sat

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My heart thundered under my breast. I was sure my parents could hear me, asleep in their beds inside the two story, gray-siding clad house on Sunnyvale Court.

Rain puddled at my feet, soaking the dirt of a thousand walks into my off-brand tennis shoes. I usually enjoyed the rain. I liked the feel of walking barefoot in puddles in the grass and the smell of rain mixed with pine trees. Tonight, the air was cool and the rain was crisp against my skin for an early August in South Carolina. I would be out all night, though, so this was completely bad timing.

With my toes pointed out to the street, I stood at the edge of the long driveway. A cool wind split through my dark poncho. I wanted to shiver, but I steeled myself and ignored the cold.

This is it, I told myself. If you’re going to leave, you need to do it now.

A new house sat half-finished around the bend of Sunnyvale. I explored it yesterday while on a walk and discovered the back door was unlocked.

My hand gripped the straps of my overloaded backpack. One night, I told myself. One night where I’m not sleeping under the same roof as my parents. I’m not going to die like my mother seems to think would happen if I did. I knew that normal people, everyone else in the world, they weren’t all murdered and raped the moment they went outside.

Thoughts of my bedroom in the house behind me flooded my mind; the soft green comforter, the mauve pink carpet, the warmth of the cotton sheets, a quiet symphony playing from the

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