Quarrel

That night, father and son quarreled.  Only I knew that this would be the last time they would fight in front of me.  This was the last straw.  My bag was already packed in the back of my closet with everything I thought I needed.  The cigarettes and flask my father was always looking for were hidden in the loose floorboard in my closet.  A loose board made out necessity after the first time my brother was found with marijuana.  My father’s reaction showed me how well I needed to hide my transgressions. 

My latest addition to the secret closet box was a positive pregnancy test.  I’m not entirely sure on who the father is, but if my dad finds any one thing hidden there, it will be enough to send him over the edge.  

As the yelling and screaming finally stopped and the only noises I could hear were the noises of the house settling; I knew it was my chance.  I got out of bed fully dressed and tiptoed to the closet.  I disabled the alarm and made it to the end of the driveway and around the corner before I was able to take a deep breath.  This was the first time I was able to leave the house without permission or a chaperone in my life.  In the middle of my second deep breath, my heart stopped.  My father was waiting for me.  With his hands balled into fists.  Seething.