The World Ahead

Notes/Warnings: TRIGGER. Implied child molestation.
Summary: Written for the prompt(s): When I approached the street that I lived on, I decided not to turn, but to keep going. . . .


When I approached the street that I lived on, I decided not to turn but to keep going across the intersection where Pine Street met Elizabeth Way.

I stood at the southwest corner, backpack on back, rocking back and forth on heel and toe, watching the lack of traffic go by and thinking about the endless possibilities.

Across from me, to the northwest, lay home and the safety and familiarity of all that I knew: my mother and stepdad, my little sister Katie, my cat Roscoe, and my gecko, Sly.

On this early Friday morning, the sun was barely up—everyone was probably still asleep, except for Roscoe. They were all cozy and warm, dreaming whatever it was they dreamt of, and completely unknowing that I stood at the turnoff for home thinking about them with the fondness of farewell.

To the northeast, the direction from which I’d come, was my dad’s place . . . I’d walked four miles in the middle of the night in a bid to escape it and him. There was nothing waiting for me in that direction but hundreds more sleepless nights spent on my guard—for all the use that was . . . my late-night-sneaking dad was a foregone conclusion—waiting for him to come stumbling in, drunk or high or whatever it was that made him think it was okay to come into my room, and. . . .

Nothing for me that way. Nothing at all, and that realization had been a long time in coming—had struck me like a flash at three thirty-seven in the morning as I lay there, waiting for him to stumble back out of my room.

Two and a half hours later, here I stood.

Free.

To the southeast was more familiarity—school, the mall, Downtown, and Chuck’s house. Chuck was—had been—my best friend. Had been since kindergarten, though lately he’d been getting increasingly chummy with his wrestling team buddies, leaving little time for me or the nerdier pursuits of our shared past. Sophomore year had been pretty lonely for me without him. And it’s not like I had a ton of other friends to make up for him.

Nothing to the southeast but boredom, confusion, and heartache.

Finally, there was southwest, on which corner I stood.

That way led to the outskirts of town. Toward the small airport, and the trailer park near that. It lead to the rest of the country and to people I had yet to meet . . . home was behind and the world ahead, if I dared to reach for it.

Back and forth, forth and back, heel and toe, toe and heel.

While I was standing there, rocking and staring into my future, the sound of a large motor came from the southeast, growing louder and louder, till a large bus was pulling up beside me. The doors opened.

The bus driver, a small, birdlike woman with a huge afro leaned toward the door, smacking her gum and eyeing me wryly.

“This ain’t a stop, sweetie,” she said, and I shook my head, meaning to tell her that I wasn’t waiting for the bus, but what came out was: “Sorry. You goin’ southwest?”

She grinned. “Sure am, honey. Down Elizabeth till we reach the turnoff for the highway. Get in.”

Digging out my battered Batman wallet, I climbed on. The bus was practically empty, but for a few people, widely spaced out. “Uh . . . how far will, um, seventeen dollars get me?”

“As far as the Neighborville depot, kiddo. Have a seat.”

I gave her my money and made my way to the back of the bus. When I was seated, the bus pulled away from the curb with a rumble. Outside my window, Elizabeth Way fairly flew by and I smiled to myself.

The world ahead. . . .

END