Free At Last

• Cara Mcculloch, Grade 9, Viewbank College
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

With the smash of a vase against a wall, I snap awake like a torture victim hearing the crack of a whip, knowing exactly what is going happen next. I bite my bottom lip until I feel sweet warmth flooding my mouth and I shut my eyes tightly as my bedroom door slams open. Pain sears through my scalp as my long, split hair is the only part of my body that supports my weight as my father lifts me off my bed.
“Get your disgusting self into the car right now!” he screams with fury in my ear. My vision begins to fade and the next thing I know my parents are speeding down a dirt road, yelling obscenities to each other. This has been my life from the moment I was born.
My mind starts running thinking how this all began. To me, the term parents means tormentors, manipulators and torturers. To them I am just a waste of their space, time and money. I’ve read of people like me feeling hurt, miserable and longing for someone to love them. I once longed for solace but now, I only feel empty. How else am I supposed to feel? My entire life has been focused on how utterly hopeless and despicable I am.
The emotions of panic in my parents’ eyes are nothing like I’ve ever seen before. I’ve only ever witnessed boredom and resentment when they’ve looked at me. Why are they darting their eyes constantly to the rear-view mirror? Then it floods me like honey from the heavens, filling me up like I am whole, a sensation I had never thought I would experience.
It occurred just yesterday. I was gazing into the neighbour’s dried up, dusty lawn. Admiring the refreshing contrast compared to my parents one, when my father burst into my bedroom. I routinely braced myself for the sharp blow to my head and closed my eyes. I found myself a few minutes later staring blankly at my neighbour’s face with a phone held up to her ear until I once again drifted into my ache infected-slumber.
The memory is cleared as the car comes to a halt. Silence, as my father comes to my side of the car, grits his teeth and I feel myself being shot by thousands of sharp bullets, except they’re not passing through me but staying in my side. My vision returns just to see the back of a vehicle racing into the night, choking me with dust. I continue lying on the excruciating ground filled with anxiety as I’m anticipating the next unbearable blow when instead I am floating. Buzzes of delightful tingles rise up my throat in a way I have never felt before. Laughter? A wave of bliss and freedom drowns me in euphoria. Yes, that’s it. I’m free. I feel my eyes begin roll to the back of my head as the sirens of my blue saviours become louder, and louder.