Until Dawn

The rustle of the dried leaves echoed in the night as I slowly made my way across the backyard. Light leaked through the window of the second-story bedroom that I snuck out of and onto the dead grass below. It was the third time this week that I left home in the middle of the night, without anything except the clothes on my back and without any idea of where I was going to go or what I was going to do. I just kept walking, attempting to clear my mind of any morbid things that had went on behind me. I was gone, I was safe. At least I was for the moment.
I had a bitter taste of tears left within my burning throat from the sobbing session I had only a half-hour before I took my leave. The sting of his hand still stung upon my left cheek, and blazed bright red under the moonlight. My punishment still remained undeserving; I had no possible clue as to how or why I deserved the pain that I had received. But I knew better than to ask questions, learned right away just to keep my mouth shut, bite my lip and take it – it’d only make me stronger the magazines said.
My attempts at leaving this hated place have been relentless, but futile. I’d only make it to the next town or to the shelter of a friend’s humble home only to be dragged home in a police car the next day. It was like there was some tracking device imprinted in my skin and I couldn’t get rid of it. Nevertheless, I’d continually make my way out into the world whenever I needed to get away, hoping by some freak incident that I would no longer need to be brought back home or at least make it to a safe shelter with no intentions of leaving. A wanderer, you would call me, I have no home, no job and no means of transportations. I just have the shoes on my feet and I head wherever the wind may take me.
It was this eve of my latest attempt at running to paradise where I came upon a young boy not much older than I, about two years give or take a month. His eyes were a black onyx, his hair just as dark and ruffled in a million different ways. His skin was pale, he seemed to have an eerie glow about him under the moonlight and his stature was that of a well off boy, maybe a little starved but his head sat on broad shoulders and thickening arms. He sat beneath a deserted streetlight on the pothole ridden road, with the glowing ember of a cigarette in his left hand. I don’t think he noticed my presence a first because he seemed to keep his head down as if studying something near his feet. I kept my pace walking on the other side of the deserted road, as I was passing across from him I noticed he had slightly tilted his head towards me. I glanced towards him, and then his eyes were back at the ground. I looked back ahead and continued walking up to the street above.
A few minutes later I heard the scuffle of feet behind me, I quickened my pace - not wanting to glance back to see the intruder – and tried to get into the light of a nearby porch lamp. I hesitated at the intersection and the footsteps stopped, just then I felt the prescence of a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t find my voice, and my feet seemed to be implanted in the ground against my will. The strangers husky voice seemed gentle, young even, “You shouldn’t be out so late, it’s dangerous out here.” Then he softly chuckled.
I turned my head to take in the face of my intruder and it turns out to be the same black-haired boy I had seen only minutes ago. I figured if anything happened, I could talk myself out of it – I was very persuasive my teachers had always told me. Innocently I smiled and replied “Then why are you out? This is no place for you either.” He looked at me for a moment, his onyx eyes blazing into mine, they were gorgeous. “My name’s Chris,” the stranger now named Chris said to me, “And I’ve noticed you like you’re moonlight walks.” By this I was taken aback, “Oh so you’re stalking me, I see?” My feet had finally come back to me and I started walking again, a little faster. Chris seemed to keep up with ease, “You’ve been crying too, I can tell by your eyes.” “Very observant for someone who lurks around in the dark” I replied, still walking. He quickenedd his pace to match mine and then jumped out in front of me, turning backwards and gazing at me. “What do you want?” I asked, a little harshly too. Chris just smiled at me and said, “You’re pretty when you cry.”I just glared at him. “So does this pretty midnight angel have a name?” “My name’s Roxanne.”
I looked at my new acquaintance in the streetlight, he was much more handsome than I had depicted. Although there was a mark on his upper right cheekbone, it looked bruised and newly made and his bottom lip seemed to jut out a little more than what looked natural. Other than that, he had exceptionally clear skin and stood with the utmost perfect posture and looked well dressed in his all black outfit. The shirt seemed a little stretched at the neck and his jeans loosely hugged his hips, other than that he seemed harmless.
He reached out his hand, I flinched back instinctively but he gently said “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” His fingers gently grazed my reddened cheek, I twitched from the gentle pain that came with it. “That doesn’t look to good,” He looked in my eyes with sympathy, “Who hit you?” “Noone.” I replied looking down at the ground, “I should go.” I started to walk past him, but he turned with me and continued to walk beside me. We both walked in silence for a few blocks, my eyes staying on the gravelly road beneath my shoes and his alternating between me and the starry sky.
Chris lit up another cigarette and I could instantly smell the nicotine within my nostrils, he sighed and looked at me again. This time I let my eyes raise to meet his, Chris smiled and gestured towards the night sky. “Do you know how many there are?” I laughed and looked at him, “Um, the same amount as yesterday?” He smirked “Are you intending to be a smartass?” “No, just ignorant. How many are there then?” Chris paused for a second and looked at me, “One less than yesterday.” “How do you know? There’s millions up there, way too many for you to count…” “Because I’m looking at the one that fell tonight, right now.” And he was staring right at me.
I blushed slightly then chuckled, “That had to be one of the corniest pick-up lines I have ever heard.” “It made you smile though,” Chris replied coolly. We continued walking right out of the city limits and into the rural area of the town nearby, making turns together without consulting and stopping when needed for one of Chris’s fix’s for his addiction. Chris and I chatted like long time friends, about everything from elementary school things to modern day oxy-morons. We laughed together and became critics ourselves of the run down road signs and the gigantic holes that were eroded into the middle of the pavement.
As the hours passed, I’ve gotten to know quite a bit about my midnight stranger – it was like I’d known him all my life. His favorite color(s) were lime-green and black together, he was quick witted and always eager to make someone laugh. He’d broken his arm at age six from jumping off his roof and his mother had been remarried 2 times in the past 8 years. Chris was currently sixteen years old and has been smoking and doing various other substances since he was seven. He seemed to be a good-hearted kid who had a hard life that he didn’t deserve. He also had the ability to pry information off of unsuspecting strangers by means of speaking and asking questions with good intent.
Within the first few hours of our meetings, Chris had pried the real reason I’m out this late; why I was crying; and who had hit me; Along with various other details of my life. It was just so easy to talk to this guy, I couldn’t help to carry on a conversation with him – something that I normally didn’t do with people. I had a habit of not being able to carry on a conversation with anyone because of the unfamiliarity that comes with it, but with Chris, he was working hard to keep the conversation alive as well as attempting to learn as much about me as possible.
I followed him down a stranded, dead end street that, eventually lead to the entrance of an adorable looking mobile home community. “You can come crash at my house,” Chris began to tell me, “I assure your safety and everything, and I can take you right back or wherever whenever you want.” I looked at him, I’ve only known this stranger kid for a few long hours and I’m already being led to his house. Yet, I still didn’t feel the gut instinct that something should be wrong, so un-alarmingly I let him lead me to a rundown, bright green trailer in the Westside of the place.
The steps were starting to bend in half under the years of pressure from people’s feet running up and down them, and the little porch that was present had paint chipping all over the boards and a few nails coming undone. The door Chris led me into was hanging haphazardly on the fraying hinges and it squealed as he barely pulled it apart only a few inches. Chris let me step inside the small home; The rugged smell of smoke greeted me as I bent over to take my shoes off, and Chris slowly closed the door behind me.