Leaving Forever

• Oceane Janssen, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

Pain, heartache and misery. As I slowly laid down on the cold and wet bathroom floor I realized this is not how the story should end, so let’s take it back. Its 1953 and the story is just beginning, I can hear my mum and dad arguing in the lounge room.
“Why her am I not good enough for you?” angrily questioning my furious mum
“No of course not it just happened”.
This was not a good enough answer for my mum so she slapped my very own father.
This is hard for me to see and hear only being 14 and wanting a life with my mum and dad not going through a divorce. To get to sleep I started singing myself to sleep with a song my dad used to sing to me. I woke up the next morning with the sound of fighting once again. I come out of my little room and go to get breakfast when I find my dad sitting on the floor with a bruise on his forehead and blood on his mouth.
“Dad what happened” I intriguingly asked
“Your mum happened” Painfully answered my dad
My mum comes barging out of her room and stomping through the long dark corridor. She pushes me firmly to get out the way and kicks my dad intentionally. “That's it” I shouted “I am done!” I ran into my room, grab the only backpack I own and chuck a few items of clothes some shoes and a teddy my parents gave me when I was born. As my parents continued to fight I waltzed out the door leaving my past behind me. Gangs everywhere, town drunks roaming and scariest of all it was 1953 the year of desegregation. This was a scary time. White people throwing car parts on fire through the black people houses, killing and the hardest of all WORDS! One thing is: I am black.
I ran through crowds of white people. Wait. Hang on a minute. I didn't run – I sprinted. If white people saw me I would probably be shot. I was crying so hard feeling the wet drips of tears running down my cheeks and drops hitting my large nose. I wasn't crying because I knew I had a large chance of dying I was upset because I knew that my parents were at home fighting. I was questioning if I should go back or if I should keep going. It felt like I had been sprinting for ages but when I turned to look back I had run about 300 meters. I needed to keep going, the further I ran the more tiered I became. I started to sweat and my legs started to ache.