Running Free (Woodland Creek)(2)

His face crumples at the mention of our foster father. I feel a tiny quiver in my heart for his pain but I ignore it and take off in a jog away from him.

He doesn’t call for me or come after me. And with each step, the dark cloud that shrouds me begins to lift. Sprinting along with the wind blowing my dark hair into my mouth and eyes is exhilarating. The urge to take my clothes off overwhelms me. It’s as if I want to shed myself of everything that was my past life. But I can’t take my clothes off. What would someone do if they saw a naked twelve-year-old girl running down the street?

Who cares?

I’m running free.

Nobody controls me now.

Slowing to a stop, I rip my shirt off and shove off the rest of my clothing and shoes. The warm air tickles my flesh but I feel like screaming in relief. Taking off again, I revel in the way my naked body slices through the night air.

I’ll never be caged in another foster home again.

Lifting my head, I stare at the beautiful moon that tonight almost seems yellow. So this is what total freedom feels like?

Something from within me explodes. Every nerve ending ignites and blackness clouds my vision. I’m not sure what’s happening but I enjoy the sensation. For once in my life, I’m completely happy.




I’m so hungry.

And confused.

So ready to give up.

I even tried to seek help from a man jogging but he yelled at me and shooed me away. I’d tearfully told him my story — how I’d been on the run but was starved and scared. He’d ignored me as if I were some annoying animal.

You are a dirty street animal.

I ignore the voice that niggles at me. The one that asks the questions my mind doesn’t have answers to. Has going without food scrambled my mind? Everything is different — larger even in this big, bad world. I just want to go home and sleep in my bed.

Dirty street animals don’t have homes.

It’s been days since I ran from my foster home and the days are all running together. I’m not sure what I thought would happen once I escaped but digging around in a trashcan behind some apartment building wasn’t exactly what I’d imagined. But I’m so hungry.

I find some chicken bones with some meat still hanging on them and my stomach grumbles in relief. The meat stinks and is old but I devour it ravenously. I’m just crunching through one of the bones when something slips around my neck.

What in the heck?

“Hey!” I yelp at my attacker.

As I’m dragged away from the garbage, I squirm and twist in an effort to escape. The grip on my neck only tightens to the point I can hardly breathe.

“There, there, girl,” a deep voice coos.

The sound of it buries itself under my skin and I hate it instantly.

Words fail me as I desperately hang by my neck as he heads toward a truck. The first thing I notice about the vehicle is the caged box on the back of it.

No!

In the background, I hear a yappy puppy and I wonder if it’s in the cage already.

Please, let me go!

When the man arrives at the truck, he wrangles out his keys and opens the cage which reeks of urine and feces. I whimper for him to let me go but he ignores me as he shoves me inside. His hand, which seems gigantic, slides over my bare back and I feel sick to my stomach. Why is he touching me this way — as if I’m his pet?

I scowl at him as he slips his hand to my neck and releases whatever he was using to grip me. Choking, I suck in air and prepare myself to beg him to let me go. But when he crouches and sticks his huge face right in mine, I scramble away from him. I’ve never seen such a big man and he scares me.

His hand wraps around my neck again and I fear he’ll choke me some more but instead, he caresses me gently just below my ear with his thumb. I hate that I react to his gentle touch and don’t want him to stop.

Truth is, I’ve never had a loving touch from anyone. This man seems to want to comfort me despite the fact he’s caging me. I’m confused but crave his petting nonetheless.

“Be a good girl and we’ll find you a nice home, okay?” he says in a singsong voice that most people reserve for babies.

But I don’t want to go to a home. They’re all the same.

I want to be free.

Seizing the opportunity, I turn toward the massive hand and I bite. Hard. There’s no way I’m letting him cage me and then send me to another home like that of Joe’s.

“Stupid bitch!” he roars the moment my teeth tear through his flesh.

His blood tastes good considering I’m half-starved and I attempt to take another bite at him. But the man is too fast and he slams the cage door.

“You’re cute but with that sort of attitude, you’ll never leave the pound. Families don’t want dogs that bite — they want good dogs. I bet you piss and shit all over the floor too.”

I’m still reeling from his words.

Dog?

Am I dreaming?

I attempt to open up the cage but it’s in this moment that I see. Small black paws, my paws, claw at the metal.

This is impossible.

I’m a girl — a human girl.





Frankie

Ten years later…

I’m on my knees on the recently shined mahogany bar when a warm hand slips between my bare legs sending a shiver up my spine.