Runaway – What a Week
By the time I was 15, I was going through the motions in my cult-of-origin, and really looking for any way out.
We HAVE to break the Silence!
The original plan was go college my way out of it, because all through school everyone was all, “so much potential,” and “you’ll go far.” I was starting to catch on to the reality that to go to college, I would need help.
In order to go to college, I would need to build a resume, and sort through options, and have some financial assistance from home. (FAFSA doesn’t consider you financially independent until 25).
There was no money for school, and Mom did her best to suppress my opportunities, so schoolwork disappeared as a priority.
By 16, I went to the classes I wanted to, and ditched the rest with my friends. I had managed to make a few friendships with other smokers (mostly from choir, because the choir room was closest to where we would smoke, so we would ALL run out for a cigarette after choir together).
I even managed to make a close friend that wasn’t candy. We shall call her L. L was cool and chatty, and not too judgy. She had tiny fingers even though she was also in band, which gave me access to the band geeks.
You could tell that L came from upper-middle class parents. She wasn’t materialistic, but she had nice things and didn’t really have to do anything for them.
I was in shock when I discovered her friendship with J and B, two brothers who definitely came from a different demographic. J was older and usually in a Slayer shirt. B was younger (I think a year younger than me) and usually in a Slayer shirt as well. (B also happens to be the person I lost my virginity to…)
J was super sweet, and I had worked with him in the cafeteria of our high school our senior year. Then, sophomore year he just disappeared. When you have 2000+ students in your school, it’s hard to know if someone moved, dropped out, or just has a schedule that doesn’t align with yours.
Turns out, he had dropped out, and he was friends with L because they lived a street apart. I ditched a lot of classes with the 3 of them, and they introduced two 18 year-old-ish friends- A and C.
C was super sweet, and compassionate. He and L became a thing. They were pretty cute together.
A and I became a thing. It was really nice because he didn’t go to school with me so he didn’t know that I was undatable! I felt like I really scored.
A was in a group home. I never pried into all of the details about his family. All I knew was that he lived in a group home, so he had to follow group home rules.
Mostly we just hung out, and complained about our parents. These kids didn’t shy away when I told my stories, because theirs were worse. I found it easy to understand where they were coming from, and the acceptance was like a drug.
A was not very experienced with interpersonal relations, and I really loved that. Everything intimate between us was a first for him, and he was frequently stunned by my willingness.
I can honestly say that he never once thought to use any of it against me.
If I’m being completely honest, I pushed him further than he was comfortable going on more than one occasion. Technically, I could say he consented, but that doesn’t mean that he was ready for it, and really felt like it was my job to break him in, and show him what he’d been missing out on.
He wasn’t unwilling, but it was not always enthusiastic consent. I regret that.
Anyhow, it was summer and Mom was pretty unbearable. In midnight phone calls, sneaking around my grounding, we arranged for C to come pick me up in the middle of the night. A couldn’t help because he couldn’t be out over night.
I had to be packed and ready without anybody growing suspicious. I had to make it out of the house without waking mom up, or stirring up the dogs.
I had to refuse to second-guess myself.
C let me sleep in his car until morning, when J and B snuck me into their house. Their dad was gone a lot and they didn’t have a lot of supervision.
I slept in their closet for a couple nights, and those days were the best I’d known. I slept with J the second morning. The freedom was intoxicating. It also provided a contrast against the imprisonment of my home. There are things you can’t allow yourself to feel while you are still in a situation, and I was so relieved and grateful.
He had really been a good friend. He had really never made me feel annoying or tolerated. (I was also curious if he was as girthy as his brother. He was, but I was better equipped for it. 🙂 )
We played Jagged Little Pill, the whole album, on repeat. I listened to all kinds of music I’d never been privy to. I learned about VH1.
C came over to visit a lot, and I remember him telling me a joke about a worm farm and wormboys that wear wormboy boots and wormboy hats. He was cracking up so hard he could barely get it out.
We sat in the back yard and wrote songs. C played the guitar.
We cut my hair short, and shaved the back. We bleached it. Nope, not like that. I mean, we put actual chlorox on my hair. 0/10 recommend.
I look great with orange hair though.
I adopted an Australian accent when we were out of the house, and went by Connie.
The second day at J and Bs, it was just A, C, L, and I. There was a big living room down stairs. That was the first time I had “relations” with another couple in the room.
It was just hand jobs with lotion, but it was a lot of fun. (Foreshadowing!) We were all joking, and there was an air of slight nervousness, but mostly excitement. We all knew each other and felt comfortable with each other. We traded tips on techniques, and got real-time feedback on each technique’s effectiveness.
Unfortunately, it only took a couple of days before J and B’s dad discovered me and he blew his lid. They both got beat pretty good. I skedaddled.
There was a spot I found under a bush by the train tracks where nobody would see me. It was mostly fine. I had cigarettes, and something to drink. It got really cold though, and overnight you hear so many noises.
Any footsteps could blow my cover. I was terrified of cops and was so afraid of going back home.
Animals rattled the bushes, and scurried by. Early morning was the worst. There wasn’t really any sleep that night and it just got colder and colder. Colorado had a steep day/night temperature disparity.
As dawn approached every thing became soggy. The wet just makes it colder.
I didn’t dare take off on foot, because they would come for me here in the morning. There was also a curfew, and if I was seen I could end up back home. There was a 7Eleven about a block away, but it was to risky to go get warm.
Nobody had cell phones.
When they came and got me in the morning they were all smiles.
Operation **Reclaim** Loveland 
What do you think?