short mystery story
Start writing a post
Health Wellness

I'm Already Gone Pt. 1

The first part of my latest short story

I'm Already Gone Pt. 1

As footsteps fade past my door, I dare to open my clenched eyes. Don't move yet. No chances.

The small thud of my mother's bedroom door carries down the carpeted hallway. I count to three in my head, then throw my blanket covers back. This time, I will not get caught. This time, I'll make it to her.

Sitting up slowly, I slide off my bed and let my feet fumble for the black sneakers waiting on the floor at the edge of my bed. I slip them on successfully. My hair. I pull it into a brown ponytail high on my head. Now for the window, and I'm gone. The window rests above my mattress, which is so old it squeaks with every movement. I realize suddenly it's deliberate. They've always been watching like this.

I manage to turn my body to the window and shove the frame open. I kick out the screen and watch it tumble three stories down. It hits the air conditioning unit below, but the impact is so far, I barely hear it. The lattice was removed after my last attempt, as was the fire ladder from my closet.

They missed the rope I stored in my sock drawer. Thanks to Izzy, I always have one ready. Thanks to me, she was gone. I shake off the thought. I'll see her soon enough.

I lean out the window and glance to both sides. My parents' window was right next to mine. I halt all movement as a light flicks on across the way. Sleepy steps and the outline of a person shown through the dark of the world. I quickly shut the window and throw the blanket back over myself, pulling it up and over my shoulders, hiding my outfit. I pinned it tight and lay with my eyes staring at the door, hoping she won't open it.

The knob turns, and I see my mom's silhouette in the doorway, then shut my eyes as naturally as I could. I don't move an inch, holding my muscles too rigid, but unable to move, or she'll notice. She takes a few steps in, pauses. I can hear my heart beating out of my chest. I want to move, to cover the rope even more. If she sees the rope or notices the screen is gone, I'm done. But I won't stop.

I gently crack my eye open as subtly as I can. I see her in my vanity. She's going through the drawers. She shakes her head slowly and pulls out a picture. I close my eye. I don't have to see it to know who it's a picture of. I hear the door close lightly and wait at least another minute. My heart still rapid, my hands still unsteady, I tie one end of the rope to my bedframe and let the other end hang out the window.

I look down the rope, imagining that I'm back in P.E., though the rope is much farther down. I hesitate. I close my eyes and set my chin, just like P.E.

I grip the rope and gently climb down. Hand under hand. Ankle-wrapped around the rope. Knuckles white. My breath comes rapidly, and I feel my hands slipping. Muscle memory takes over as I picture myself doing this every day the entire school year, racing Izzy to the top, then the bottom. My feet hit something metal, and I look down.

The A.C. unit. I was done. I release the rope and dust my hands on my light green khakis as nothing had happened. I push away the fear that had screamed at me. I glance at the rope, contemplating what to do with it. In the end, I decided to leave it. Let them find it. I'll be long gone by the time they find it. I jump off the unit and pick up a thick black coat I had stashed in the bush a few feet over. Tucked inside the coat is my white backpack, that holds everything else I'll need.

I slip the backpack over my shoulders and hold onto the straps with my thumbs. An ecstatic smile spreading over my face, I step out onto the road. I've traveled this part of the road so many times I no longer need to check my map. Without a glance over my shoulder, I walk on the edge of the road, close to the forest line. Step after step of my worn-out Converse, I walk into the dark horizon. This is it. I'm finally going to make it.

No one knows I'm even gone yet.

Report this Content
This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
​a woman sitting at a table having a coffee

I can't say "thank you" enough to express how grateful I am for you coming into my life. You have made such a huge impact on my life. I would not be the person I am today without you and I know that you will keep inspiring me to become an even better version of myself.

Keep Reading...Show less
Student Life

Waitlisted for a College Class? Here's What to Do!

Dealing with the inevitable realities of college life.

college students waiting in a long line in the hallway

Course registration at college can be a big hassle and is almost never talked about. Classes you want to take fill up before you get a chance to register. You might change your mind about a class you want to take and must struggle to find another class to fit in the same time period. You also have to make sure no classes clash by time. Like I said, it's a big hassle.

This semester, I was waitlisted for two classes. Most people in this situation, especially first years, freak out because they don't know what to do. Here is what you should do when this happens.

Keep Reading...Show less
a man and a woman sitting on the beach in front of the sunset

Whether you met your new love interest online, through mutual friends, or another way entirely, you'll definitely want to know what you're getting into. I mean, really, what's the point in entering a relationship with someone if you don't know whether or not you're compatible on a very basic level?

Consider these 21 questions to ask in the talking stage when getting to know that new guy or girl you just started talking to:

Keep Reading...Show less

Challah vs. Easter Bread: A Delicious Dilemma

Is there really such a difference in Challah bread or Easter Bread?

loaves of challah and easter bread stacked up aside each other, an abundance of food in baskets

Ever since I could remember, it was a treat to receive Easter Bread made by my grandmother. We would only have it once a year and the wait was excruciating. Now that my grandmother has gotten older, she has stopped baking a lot of her recipes that require a lot of hand usage--her traditional Italian baking means no machines. So for the past few years, I have missed enjoying my Easter Bread.

Keep Reading...Show less

Unlocking Lake People's Secrets: 15 Must-Knows!

There's no other place you'd rather be in the summer.

Group of joyful friends sitting in a boat
Haley Harvey

The people that spend their summers at the lake are a unique group of people.

Whether you grew up going to the lake, have only recently started going, or have only been once or twice, you know it takes a certain kind of person to be a lake person. To the long-time lake people, the lake holds a special place in your heart, no matter how dirty the water may look.

Keep Reading...Show less

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Facebook Comments