New Life

Chapter 1
I was walking. That’s it. Nothing special about that day. Nothing at all.
That’s the day my whole life changed.
I wasn’t going anywhere, no where in particular, just walking, my streaming black hair behind me, billowing in the strong Kansas wind. The tall grasses brushing against my fingertips, softly caressing them, as I walk. I just wanted to get away from the place I started from, because that was the place where all my memories were, all my terrible, horrible memories. I just couldn’t stand it there anymore, all the hate bubbling up inside the house, waiting to burst open and take the whole world with it. And who is that hate for, you ask? Well, it’s for me. All for me, with my streaming black hair and pale skin, more beautiful then my sisters combined, you just ask anyone, you’ll see. Only they don’t like that, and neither do my parents. They kept me locked up in my room, my jail cell, for as long as I could remember, feeding me the rotting scraps that the farm dogs wouldn't eat. Then you know that it’s bad, for dogs eat anything.
I never went to school, but I learned to read by teaching myself. It’s lucky, too, for my whole plan would crumble if I couldn’t. How could you get anywhere in life if you can’t read? It’ll come in handy now, along with all the things I stole from that good-for-nothing family.
But, even now, as I stand, miles away from the only place I’ve ever known for 13 years, I wonder, was it wrong to steal from them? Was it wrong to do that, even after they had tortured me for so long? They haven’t even bother to give me a name, as they told me “girl” was good enough. Didn’t they deserve it?
Did anyone deserve it?
I pushed aside these thoughts and went onward. If I were to carry on with my plan, I best not to stay here, in any one spot for to long. Knowing my father, he would set the hounds on me and leave me there to rot. Why did he hate me? I always wondered, but now, I didn’t care. I just knew he did, and I would have to live with it. Because once hatred sprouts, there’s no weeding it out.
My bag heavy with food, clothes, blankets, and money, I crossed the wind swept field and through a little farming town.
My mind wandered back to the conversation I overheard. I was eavesdropping on my parents, my ear pressed hard against the door, throbbing from the beating hours before. From my room, its door locked as always, I could hear everything going on in the whole house. “It’s time to get rid of her,” My father said. “We have to dispose of her. We can’t stretch any more ransom out of her,” Ransom? My mind raced. Don’t people only get ransoms when they get kidnapped? I cleared my mind again, trying to listen harder. Maybe they were just kidding, knowing I was listening and wanting me to get worried over nothing. Not that I would let that happen. “No, we should what longer before we do that. We might be able to get more money out of her,” “No, we have to threaten to kill her now. If we wait any longer, her parents might call the police on us, they do have our address now,’’ My parents? What are they talking about? Weren’t they my parents? “We must send the note now, or we’ll lose our chance. Then we’ll murder the girl once we get the money and start over,’’ He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. He handed it to my mother, she read it over, and then she nodded and put it in an envelope. She then got up and walked out the door, putting it in the mailbox outside.
My heart was pounding now. They weren’t kidding, they couldn’t be. How could this be true? I berried my face in my hands and cried. My whole life, I had been told a lie, spun by my so called parents, and beaten every day, every night, for money. How could someone, anyone be so cruel? How? How?
It was then a plan formed in my head. It’s not like I could just sit here, and wait to be killed, you know? So for the next couple of days, I started saving every table scrap I could. I gathered two outfits for the trip (one for warm and one for hot weather) and lastly, stole some the money that was apparently “ransom” for kidnapping me (I still didn’t believe it). Once I had everything I needed, I waited for my chance. And that chance happened only a day before my preplanned slaughter.
My “father” was in the kitchen, talking loudly into the phone. My “mother” was chopping onions for breakfast, her eyes watering. The morning sun was rising outside the window, a beacon in the sky. I knew then that today was my only chance, and that it would have to be soon.
Then, as though the sun had read my expression and saw the anxiousness there, a man knocked on the door. He wore a blue uniform, with a gold badge glinting in the sunlight. My mother saw him and glanced at my father, her expression panic-stricken. I was pleased to see my father wear the same, and it took all I had not to smile. My father got up slowly and walked to the door. Before he opened it, he turned to me. “To your room, now,” He knew better then to shout, especially with the county sheriff right outside our door.
I took the steps two at a time, realizing what his appearance meant. It gave me the chance to escape. I nearly ran up to my room, closing the door slowly as to not draw attention to myself. I grabbed the bag that had everything I ever owned and wanted from this house, a roll of who knows how many 100 dollar bills (it’s my ransom after all), and a week’s supply of food.
I crept down the stairs, keeping my parents in sight as I walked to the back door. My father slammed his fist on the table for some reason, which let me know I couldn’t be caught, or I would face the consequences.
I crept along, careful to watch out for the squeaky floorboard right in front of the door. When I was finally outside in the fresh, beautiful summer air, I gave a sigh of relief. But, way to soon I realized my mistake. The dogs noticed it, and they barked at the top of their lungs. Scared out of my skin, I bolted for the tall grasses that grew behind my house, but I didn’t go fast enough. As I jumped around the house, my father open the door with a loud CRASH! The door split into splinters against his hands, and I nearly had a heart attack.
I ran like lightening, flashing against the sky as my feet pounded against the ground. I was almost to the fields now, ten feet, nine feet, eight feet. My legs just brushed against the shorter blades at the edge when I heard the first CRACK of my father’s rifle. I knew he still planned to kill me, and he was going to do it, one way or another.
I fled through the field, the grass swaying violently behind me. I knew from the barks behind me that my father let the dogs out, and by the sounds of it, he let out the whole pack. I ran faster then I ever did before in my life, dust puffing of in billows at my feet. I did not want to die. My will to live was the only thing keeping me going. My will to be free.
More cracks behind me as the sun went down, turning blood red. The color I would turn if I slowed. I don’t know how long I been running; it felt like hours. I was slowing and was sure the dogs realized that too. But I had to keep running, I had to, I, had, to. . .
That was the last thing I remembered before I collapsed.

Chapter 2

When I woke, all I saw was darkness. I blinked. Am I dead? I thought. Cause, if I am, why is it so dark? Where is the choir of angels that welcome me? Because that’s what they taught in church, no matter the few times I went there. I blinked again, and the darkness that was all around me took shape, first the tall swaying grasses, and the mountains in the distance. I sat up, realizing I was on the ground, and shook my head, staring around. I made it.
I made it.
I was free.
I, Victoria Amelia, am free.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The dogs had gone, my father with his riffle gone too. I was safe, or as safe as it was possible to be in the middle of a grass field, filled with prairie dogs. I looked up in the sky, trying to recall what had happened. I was running, then, blank. Nothing. I guess I must of blacked out, since all I remembered was the dark. Then a thought came into my mind.
My bag! Without it, I mind as well go home. I searched around franticly. No, no, no, there! I picked it up and opened it.
I let out a sigh of realief. Everything was there, nothing missing or broken. I sat down on the ground again and pulled out my blankets. If I was staying here for the night, I don’t want to get frostbite.
I pulled out an apple, and ate my dinner. I know it’s ridiculous, me staying in one spot, acting as though I was on a picnic, but I was still in shock.
I knew my father was a mean, ruthless man, but I never, ever, thought that he would pull a gun on me. Never. So, all I could do was do a normal thing, such as eating an apple.
Also, I was so tired I couldn’t do anything. I had to use all my energy to think of a plan.
I knew where I was, that was a good thing. The bus station is one mile south of here, and with my compass I could get there in half an hour, but not now. Not tonight. Tonight was for finding a place to sleep.
To tired to walk, I slowly got up and put up my small tent. As you can probably tell, I was well packed. Luckily, my parents did a lot of things with camping and hiking (not any more, so they won’t notice it was gone). The only things I didn’t steal was $5 (my whole life savings), my compass, a pair of slipper socks, a shirt and a pair of pants, and my stuffed lamb Daisy. As you can imagine, she is well worn from all the nights I laid in bed, a part of me in pain and hurting.
I pulled her out now, holding her close.