In human nature we have two very distinct urges. Call it instinct if you want. I call it a nuisance which takes control of my body and refuses to allow me to think about something else logical and make another plan. My entire being wants to make a plan, think through it in a rational and logical way, but my primal mind keeps on screaming: fight or flee! Fight or flee!
Let’s face it. If I got on that train today and my mom was not coming here at all, I would have been long gone by the time that James actually figured it out and reported me as missing. My mom is a different story. I would be reported missing before I even have the chance to set foot on the train, never mind make it out of town. I would be caught and brought back to live with James, where my personal hell would continue until the only way out would be without a doubt death.
“What do I do?” I ask Chris whilst I sit sobbing on his bed. I had no way out of this and I had better make a decision before my mom called again.

“Run. We can go to the train station right now,” Chris said, his face looking hopeful as if it was a foolproof plan.
“She will report me as missing,” I answered.
“Won’t James do it in any case?”
“He might think that I am just with you. He will try and manipulate and things like that. He won’t go to the police. He can’t. I have way more on him than what he has on me.”
I could not help thinking about the fact that I had bashed his scull open, and what could happen to me because of that, and at the same time I thought that there was no court that would throw me in juvenile hall after they found out just how much rape I had to endure and the things that James has done to me over the years. He would be the one behind bars, not me. He won’t talk. Not to the police in any case.
“But what about tonight? Are you going over like your mom asked?” Chris asked, his eyes getting bigger and bigger with each passing moment.

“I think I have too. I don’t have a choice,” I said as I allowed another sob to rip through my body.
“Then I am going with you.” The manner in which Chris crossed his arms I knew that this time there would be no way of changing his mind.
“But…”
“No buts E.J. I am going with you whether you like it or not. I am not leaving you alone with that nutcase.”

“I don’t think he will be able to do anything to me, okay?”
“Well we are just not taking that chance.”
His smile lifted the mountain that was pushing on my shoulders. Having Chris there would be awesome. It would change everything completely. I would have my boyfriend there, even though I still don’t want to think of him as my boyfriend.
“Okay, then we should better get going.”
After sending my mother a text telling her that both Chris and I would be attending to James, packing an overnight bag and telling Chris’ mom that he would only be home the following day we started walking toward my old house. It felt weird going back there when I had already said goodbye to everything that I ever held dear in there. I had wanted to walk away from the pain and tears and the abuse, but now, here I was, walking back toward the house that I swore I would never see again. There was no amount of words that could have expressed the way I was feeling as the house came into view. It was only hours ago when I fled for my life, leaving an unconscious James on the floor, believing with everything in me that I had killed him. And here I was, back again, walking toward someone I knew now was alive. I believed that I wanted him to be alive, that I did not want to be a murderer, but in actually fact I wished the opposite now. The thought of him being alive was way more petrifying than the thought of going to prison for murder.
“Do you still have your keys?” Chris asked as we approached the house.
“Yeah,” I said as I fished it out of my pocket. It felt cold between my fingers and the house itself looked like it was ready to eat me, engulf me into its sorrow and bitterness. There were no good memories left here. The house had swallowed it all.
“Let me,” Chris said as he took the key from me and unlocked the horrors that I was too afraid to face.
“I wonder if he is awake,” I whispered as I walked in. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to go up to his room and see if he was okay? Or could I get away with quietly sneaking into my room so that he would not know that I was there?
“I could go and check for you,” Chris said.
Fight or flee… I came to the decision once again. It would be so easy to flee to my room and allow Chris to take over from here, or I could stand my ground, ready to fight a fight I had already won. My logic on the other hand was telling me to go into his room, not to make sure that he was awake, but to finish what I had started earlier. To finally look in his eyes as the life drained from them.
“No. I need to do this on my own,” I said. “Why don’t you go and start on dinner. Just make whatever there is in the fridge.”
“You sure baby?” Chris asked.
“Yes,” I answered as I watched Chris walk toward the kitchen. In the doorway he turned around and blew me a kiss. I only smiled. Even if I didn’t want to be with him at least he was here, supporting me, making sure that I was at least safe.
The stairs doomed up in front of me. If I had to count the many times I had fled down these stairs, trying to get away before or after James would use me, I would not have enough fingers and toes to count each time. Each step I took felt like a reminder of a different time when he used me for his own pleasure, only to tell me how much he loved me afterwards. His sick mind just never stopped. Every step was another one of his very crazy ideas, wanting me to try something new that would either hurt or humiliate me even further, to the point where dying feels like the only way out. And that was what I was feeling. What if my foot could just slip by accident, making me fall down the stairs and break my neck? Would that not be more merciful at this stage? Would death not be the answer to all of my problems? Could I not just turn around and run out into the street, hoping that someone was driving by, far above the speed limit? They could crash into my body and leave me there, just drive away because of the fact that I would not want them to save me. Just leave my broken body there on the road where neighbors with big eyes would be staring at it as I drew my very last breath.
No. That was not the way life worked. Life is unusual, cruel and unfair. Life did not give you mercy simply by taking you away from your pain. In fact it put more pain in your way with every step you took.
When I came to the top I could make out the dark mark on the carpet as I looked down. The place where James had been. I was so sure that he was dead. That he would never respond again. There were even splatters of blood against the wall where I rammed his head into it multiple times. He had not washed it off. What would be his explanation to it when my mom got here? How would he explain all the blood? Had he just not had the chance to wash it off yet?
For a moment I wanted to immediately wash off all the blood, wanting to get rid of all the evidence that I had done something horrible, making me no better than what James was. On the other hand I just wanted to leave it there. Hoping that the question would be raised and everything that had ever happened would finally be out in the open. No more secrets and lies. Could dealing with the consequences really be that bad? How long would I actually have to go to prison? A year? Two years? It’s not like I actually killed him.
The door to my bedroom was closed. I didn’t bother opening it up. He would not be there. There was no way that he could be certain that I would be coming back in any case. His bedroom door on the other hand was wide open. I took a huge draw of breath and stepped in.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to get accustomed to the darkness inside the room. The curtains were drawn shut, keeping the light away from the lump that was lying under the sheets on the bed. You could not make out the white and yellow colors that the walls were painted. Everything looked grey because of the lighting. Almost like a black and white movie where you were waiting for the monster to jump out of the closet or from under the bed.
“James?” I whispered, too scared to walk any closer to the bed. Hoping that he was still alive and praying that somehow he had died in the meantime.
The lump did not answer. I could see his hair sticking out onto the pillow, but there was no movement. I could not even see him breathe.
“James?” I asked a little louder. I wanted to walk in, but I had no idea what I was walking in on. It could be everything. What if he jumped out of bed, overpowered me and tied me up?
I could feel the cold in the room creeping up my spine as I took a step into the room.
“James? Are you okay?”
My mind was running in a hundred different directions. Maybe he was really just sleeping, but from here I could not see any movement. Or maybe the head injury had made him pass out once more. It could be anything. What if it wasn’t even him in the bed?
I moved closer to the bed. The lump only an arms-length away from me.
“James?” I tried to keep the shaking out of my voice, steadying it as best I could.
I waited and still no answer came back to me. Then, with trembling fingers I took the bed sheet in my hand, and slowly pulled it back, revealing the lump underneath.
It was James. Eyes open, staring me right in the eyes, taunting me. A smile forming over his lips. He looked like something from a horror movie. Dried blood all over his face, his hair a tangled mess.
“You little fucker,” James whispered as his hand closed over my wrist.