Part Seven:

I had to get away fast. I had to get away now. I would runaway, hide for as long as
I could until I knew that he had given up. Then I would run farther away, to some distant
place, and I would be safe. I would never come back. Never.

The walls passed by in a blur, until I reached the kitchen and suddenly, unwillingly, I
came to a halt. Arms wrapped around my body and held me still as I screamed. I couldn't
see anything. My vision was faded, smudged. Even the voices I heard weren't voices, but
smeared blurbs of noise. I hadn't finished thrashing when I heard a distinctive sound that
sounded warm and familiar. Sarah. I stood still and finally saw her; the arms that were
holding me dropped from view. I turned around. The police officer nodded at me. From
the back of the house, I began to hear my father curse and yell. Sarah's tears fell from her
eyes, and I fell into her arms.

"Everything's going to be okay now," she whispered.

Both of us knew it was a lie. It was going to be a very long time until everything
would be okay.

My father came red-faced, kicking, in handcuffs out of the bedroom. Two police
officers had to hold him back when he saw me.

Out of habit, I backed away.

"I'm going to kill you," he kept yelling. "I'm going to kill you and your mother."

I didn't say anything. I simply watched from the window as he was locked in the
police car. I wanted to believe that everything was over now, but I knew it wasn't. I didn't
know if it would ever be over.

Both the police officer and Sarah stayed with me until my mother came home that
evening. She took one look at me and knew what had happened. Then she told me she
would go to hell and back before she allowed my father back into the house. It didn't
matter. He was being held in jail without bond; charged with sexual assault against a
minor, rape against a minor, attempted murder, and attempted murder with intent to kill.

That same night, my mother took me to a motel and told me that she loved me. She
was still awake when I fell asleep. The next morning, she was gone. The police found her
at home. She was hanging from the ceiling, dead.

I didn't even cry. Life alluded me. I couldn't understand anything anymore. It was
like I had been stripped of everything that had ever been important to me, if indeed,
anything ever had been important to me.

At home, I packed some bags and called Sarah. I told her I was leaving. She
understood. One day Dad was going to come back and I couldn't be here when he did. I
called a taxi. The bus station was busy; I left, unnoticed. It didn't matter where I was
going, but I had to leave. Now was the time to start again.

The End.