Katie Volpentesta Photography

She ran up to her room and collapsed onto her bed with tears in her eyes. She had to get out. She looked around at the piles of homework, clothes, and makeup scattered around her room. Under a collection of dirty socks and sweatpants sat a backpack. A light bulb went off in her head. She didn't think about it much—she just filled it with things that she thought she might need for the rest of her life.

 

A coat, a sweatshirt, a hat, a blanket, some cash, a lighter, a couple changes of clothes. She brought her phone and a pair of headphones—it probably wasn't long until it got shut it off, but she could use it for as long as possible. She looked under her bed and grabbed a bottle of beer—she started stealing them from the fridge, hoping her father wouldn't drink as much. She stuffed the bottle in the backpack, slung it over her shoulder and didn't turn back. She slipped on her boots and snuck out the back door.

 

She didn't know where she was going; it'd have to be better than where she was now.

 

As she stepped outside and walked away from the home she spent seventeen years in, she realized she was walking through snow. She brought clothes to keep her warm and she thought about it, but she didn't really think about it. How was she supposed to live on her own in the cold and snow? She didn't let it bother her. This was her life now. She didn't need her stupid father. She didn't have family or friends, her grades were only average—she didn't care. She didn't care about anything or anyone anymore. All she needed was her cash, her clothes, and the bottle of beer.

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She had never had a drink in her life, not even a sip at a party or a family gathering. She didn't go to parties; she didn't have family gatherings because she had never had anyone. She saw alcohol as a problem, a crippling device. A way to forget your problems—for the small cost of ruining your life, causing diseases and ruining relationships.

 

 

She didn't care anymore. She wasn't going to amount to anything anyway. She wasn't smart and her social life was a joke. She had nothing going for her. Why not pop open the bottle and waste her life away, just like dad?

 

 

The girl walked and walked until she had no idea where she was anymore. She had been walking for a few hours now. Her legs ached, but she couldn't sit anywhere. She tried sitting for a little while, but when she sat, she realized how cold she was. She kept on walking.

 

 

This was kinda cool—exploring places she'd never been before. She was probably only a couple towns over, even though she had never seen these places before. She started to see the beauty in some of the simple things. It wasn't like her to sit and stare at an icicle hanging from a rock, but when she's alone in the cold with a backpack, things were a little different.

 

 

She had never felt so alone in her life. She felt like she could take a breath. Finally, she didn't have the pressure of her dad yelling in her ear or her counselors yammering about college applications and essays and deadlines. She was alone, but she was free. She knew she was never going back.