Chapter Text
Mom and Dad.
In the dead of night, heavy heart pounding like a captive bird, she tiptoed through the darkness. Every step was a desperate whisper of escape from the haunting of doubt that pursued her. The silence wrapped around her like a weighted blanket, drawing out her movements sluggishly, punctuated only by the hushed creak of floorboards beneath her feet.
Anne's gaze lingered on the staircase, where the soft glow of moonlight cast elongated shadows across the steps and dusted over the form of her sleeping cat.
The muted breaths of her slumbering parents, oblivious, echoed above her thoughts.
I love u both sm and this is not ur fault.
Doubts gnawed at her resolve, planting seeds of fear that tangled into thorns in her lungs. When would they wake up? What would they do? She'd left a note. She didn't know what to write.
As she slipped on her yellow sneakers, their vibrant hue momentarily illuminated in the dark, she couldn't help but wring her hands, toying avoidantly with the door in her peripheral. With each careful step, she inched closer and closer.
Anne sighed, it seemed insurmountable, the prospect of leaving everything behind sent shivers down her spine, intertwining with the tendrils of fear that gripped her tightly.
But as she stood on the precipice of her escape, Sasha's presence just a breath away, a flicker of determination ignited within Anne's trembling soul. She knew what she had to do.
Me, Marcy and Sasha are ok. We hve run away.
She grasped her overpopulated keys in her palm and slid them into the pocket of her bag. She'd need them soon enough, she was sure of it.
But I hv to do this for them.
"Do it for them." She spoke finally, allowing a breath to slow her pacing heart. She held the door handle gently, making sure to apply pressure in just the right ways so that the door held its tongue as well as she did.
"Anne." Sasha greeted clumsily.
Sasha stood by the door, donning a pair of worn-out ripped jeans that clung to her like a second skin and a black denim jacket with red sleeves that adorned her shoulders, armour; Anne decided, while a vibrant pink hooded jacket, that had been zipped right to the top, peeked out from beneath.
Her face was a smoothie of indifference and palpable nerves, painting an unfamiliar portrait of fright onto the Scare Dare Champion that did nothing to slow Anne's own quaking.
With a hesitant yet genuine look in her eyes, Sasha reached out to Anne, offering an unexpected lifeline, and played with a frayed string on the arm of Anne's grey school hoodie. In a voice that trembled ever so slightly, she softly spoke.
"Anne. You don't have to do this… but if you do there's no going back." She stopped, contemplative.
"Here's your out. There's no more time to think it over. We leave and that's that. End. Of. Discussion." Sasha spoke those familiar words openly, as though Anne really had a choice, but they lingered and set her bones like commands.
I don't wanna.
The weight of Sasha's words hung in the air, a fragile thread that threatened to unravel the plans they had meticulously woven. It was an act of compassion, at least at face value, but Anne shook her head anyway and pulled her backpack tighter over her shoulder.
"Alright. Then I guess let's go." Sasha shrugged.
Anne and Sasha squeezed onto Anne's bike. The absence of Sasha's bike, which had been stolen, defaced and then thrown in a river, danced macabre in Anne's mind like an omen.
But I have to do it for them. I have to bring them home.
The mantra bounced about in Anne's head while she pedalled toward Marcy's house. Sasha's grasp was stronger than usual. If they both were so scared, why were they so sure it was the right choice?
Before she could question it further, Sasha broke her thoughts with a whisper.
"There she is." Sasha pointed to Marcy, sat on the curb at the corner of the street by her house. Far enough away that if her parents woke up, they wouldn't notice her quickly. So they really were doing this. Anne swallowed again but turned to stop her bike near Marcy.
Marcy's own sage bike sat a foot or so away from her, propped haphazardly against a broken streetlight. Omen after omen had presented itself. How had they come to this anyway?
The music box. Sasha had convinced Anne to skip class to celebrate her birthday. She really wished she'd said no and stuck to it because maybe then they wouldn't be leaving.
Marcy had sent them a picture of the music box. The stupid frog box that weighed down her bag until she could dispose of it when she got home.
The box that they'd almost opened when Marcy had stopped them. Why had she stopped them? Nervously, Anne had thrown the box into the furthest corner of her wardrobe and hoped desperately that her mother didn't notice it.
"Hey Anna-Banana, Sashy." Marcy greeted in a whispered dejection. She looked worse for wear, like she had been crying, with puffy eyes and a running nose.
Sitting on the pavement, Marcy tightly shut her journal. A faux leather brownish-maroon notepad defaced with stickers and doodles. Another new one; Anne realised quickly. Her trademark green skirt and middle school hooded jacket had been replaced by a pair of navy jeggings that Anne recognised as Sasha's, their length expertly folded at the ankle to accommodate Marcy's shorter frame and an oversized black hoodie that Anne was sure belonged to Marcy's father.
The change in attire, though a departure from her usual style, only amplified the reality of the situation. It wasn't a makeover; like the ones Sasha and Marcy would give that lead to her mother hiding all scissors in their house. No, it was a disguise.
As Anne and Sasha approached, Marcy rose from the pavement, an unreadably complex glint in her eyes. She flung her arms around Sasha, curling her fingers through the loose hair of Sasha's ponytail. With a tender smile and open arms, Marcy turned towards Anne and dragged her into the embrace
"What's the plan, Marbles?" Sasha beckoned the smaller girl to speak. Checking over her shoulder at Marcy's house, the blonde seemed reluctant. Thoughtful. The gaze made Anne hopeful in a deep way she couldn't, or wouldn't, prescribe words to.
"Most essentially? Leave. The buses only run hourly until seven AM so we've got another maybe twenty minutes before that. It might be a good idea to move to a further bus stop just in case my parents… you know. Worst case scenario we miss this bus and walk to a further stop within the hour interval." Marcy rambled on. Usually her thoughtful preparation was endearing but it laid on Anne like a dumbbell in her stomach as she wrung her hands nervously.
"Okay." Sasha spoke softly. Sasha was off, somehow, in a way that Anne couldn't place. The nerves were something Anne had seen decreasing over the years but had seen nonetheless. This was new. Shifting to the other girl, Anne absorbed Marcy's mirror expression. She wondered if she looked the same.
As if the night itself held its breath, afraid to disturb the eerie lull that engulfed them, the bitter city air refused to enter Anne's lungs. Anne's stomach churned with what she dismissively labelled as hunger and the cold night air bit at her skin.
We'll be back home, soon. Together.
As they pedalled onward towards the next bus stop, Anne could feel the weight on her shoulders. Sasha's grip on the bag, where she'd packed all the fragments of her life that she could fit, was firm, snagging her shirt in a death grip, almost to the point of being painful, her fingers white-knuckled with fear. The palpable terror emanating from Sasha reverberated through the entire group, sending shivers down Anne's spine.
Yet, amidst the tension, Marcy smiled softly and it broke through like a ray of light. It was a bittersweet, courageous and joyful. Her smile, though perhaps forced, carried a flicker of hope, a small flame of determination that refused to be extinguished.
Do it for them. Anne reminded herself.
Love, your daughter ,
Anne <3