In the biting wind I shiver against the cold. My thin pajamas blow in the breeze. My intense sobbing had calmed down to occasional cries and sniffles. I wander along the edge of a tall brick wall closing in the current neighborhood I was passing through until I find a slim opening at the bottom. I double check my surroundings then slip through to the other side. The bottom of the wall scratched my chest causing irritation. I hardly noticed since the pain I was in mentally was far greater than any possible agony caused to my physical being.
On the other side were train tracks crossing a bridge. As I cross the bridge I began to wonder what if the train comes. I should run across just in case. The wind picks up making it hard to run. At the end of the bridge I tripped and fell onto the rocks surrounding the tracks and roll down as rushing wind screamed in my ear. I make it across but while rolling down the rocky hill I got cut and was now bleeding. At first I didn’t notice but as I continued walking I felt the cool burn of the wind dancing through my wound. Maybe if I just found somewhere to rest, I thought, but no. I can’t risk getting caught, so I kept walking.
The bleeding eventually stops and the cold numbs my pain. My tears are frozen to my cheeks. My hands seem useless, even when I feel for something; I cannot tell what it is I have in my hands. The coldness is easier to adjust to, as time goes by the body disregards the temperature and somehow overrides the psyche to believe that it’s comfortable. The darkness has not subsided but the temperature is somewhat tolerable even though it’s below freezing. I glance down at my feet. My shoes are covered in dense mud making every step a burden on my legs. My weight seems to be multiplying by the second but I continue walking anyway. I want to get as far away as possible but don’t recognize where I am. I’ve walked at least nine to ten miles.
The First proposal for the Golden Gate Bridge came from James Wilkins, who at the time was an engineering student. The cost of James Wilkins Bridge was unrealistic at the time which was 100million dollars, but none the less it set the bar for other bridge engineers to try to work out a cheaper solution. During this time a young Joseph Strauss had graduated from the University of Cincinnati with a ...
I start to feel lightheaded and my vision blurs. Memories come rushing through my head. “Don’t you dare!” warned my mother as I held her clothes above the same trashcan she previously threw mine into. “You throw mine away I throw yours away. It’s only fair. You taught me to always be fair, ma.” I snapped back at her. As she took a step towards me my hand slipped and her clothes fall into the trashcan. Oh dang, I thought to myself as ran to the door and out the house. I looked back at my mom who was standing at the door so furious with rage I could almost see smoke fuming out her ears. “Fine! Don’t come back ‘til you’re ready to clean up this mess!” being the moron I am I scurried away like a puppy who just wet the rug. My dark hatred for life and everyone in the cruel world fades and I just want to go home. Please let me go home I plead to the heavens. Cars continue to rush by. An idea pops into my head. I’m so wildly out of it that I don’t think through what I’m about to do. I sluggishly raise my arm and position my thumb. My sense of time is distorted so I’m not sure how much time passes before a car stops.
Finally a car halts abruptly in front of me. The window gradually rolls down. Inside I see a middle aged couple. Worry overtook their expression. “Are you ok honey,” the woman softly utters. I stare at her blankly. “You look lost, do you need a ride?” I slowly nod then glance at the back door and then at her. She gave me a nod. I could tell they wanted to help but pure panic overwhelmed my heart. Unfortunately my hunger to get home was far more superior and I got in the car. I muttered where I lived to them. “That’s a long way from here. Did you walk the whole way?” I nodded briefly.
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As they took me home to my fuming parents they attempted to make small talk. They told me about their family and upcoming events. I wasn’t in much of a mood to talk but listening to them telling me their stories somewhat calmed me down. I was relieved to be in a warmer setting. My body temperature was getting back to normal and so was my breathing. They pulled up in front of my house and turned back to me. The man handed me a business card and told me to call if I ever needed help. I thanked them and unhurriedly escaped the warmth of their car. Step by step I went to the door of my house. I stared at the doorbell then back at the couple. I reached my arm out and pushed the bell with what little energy I had left. My father answered the door. He looked far from pleased. I followed his unspoken commands, went straight to my room, and passed out on my bed.
I lost a world of trust that night. Believe it or not but that wasn’t the first time I ran away but it sure as hell was the last. My parents took away every last bit of freedom I had left as a fourteen year old girl. It was months before I got half of that freedom back. I know they did it out of pure love and must have been scared when I didn’t come home. I learned my lesson and will never even think about running away again.