Chapter 2 Two

Chapter 2: The First Step

My cheek still hurt, kind of like a bruise you forget about until you touch it again. But lying on that cold floor, curled up like some stray animal, the only thing I could feel stronger than the pain was the fire in my chest. It was hot and wild and angry. I didn't even know what to call it. But I knew I couldn't stay. Not anymore. If I stayed, I'd fade away for real.

So I waited.

Every second felt like an hour. I just lay there in the dark, listening. First, it was yelling. Arthur stomping around. Brenda snapping at him like she always did. Bottles clinking. Then finally, like someone had pulled a plug, everything went quiet. I could hear him snoring from the couch. Loud, gross snoring. Mom must've gone to bed too because I didn't hear her anymore.

My whole body hurt when I sat up. My arms, my ribs, my face. But I didn't care. I was going.

I reached for my old backpack-the one from a school trip years ago that still had a stupid keychain hanging from it. I opened it and started packing. Not that I had much to bring. One shirt, a pair of socks, some leggings. I grabbed my favorite hoodie, the grey one with the hole in the sleeve. It smelled like old laundry, but it was warm. I took the fantasy book I'd been reading. It was kind of falling apart, but I needed it. It was my world when this one got too awful.

Then I reached under my bed and pulled out a half-eaten granola bar I'd hidden there. I knew it was dumb, but I'd been saving it just in case. Well, this was definitely a just-in-case moment.

No money. No phone. Nothing smart. But I couldn't wait.

I tiptoed to my door, heart pounding so hard I was sure they'd hear it. The hallway creaked when I stepped on the bad part, and I stopped, barely breathing. I stared at their bedroom door like it might open any second. But it didn't. Just the deep snores and the quiet hum of the fridge.

I reached the front door. My fingers shook as I turned the locks. Each click sounded like thunder to me. I winced every time, thinking, This is it. This is where he wakes up and grabs me.

But he didn't.

Finally, the door cracked open. Cold air rushed in, and I slipped out, pulling it shut behind me as quietly as I could.

And then-I was outside.

Really outside.

Not just going to school or the store. Not waiting for someone to call me back inside. I stood there for a second, frozen, the air sharp in my lungs.

Then I started walking.

I didn't know where to go. I just needed to go.

The city felt so different at night. Empty but alive. The streetlights flickered and buzzed above me, and the shadows looked longer than they did during the day. But I wasn't scared of the dark. Not really. I was more scared of what was behind me than anything ahead.

I walked fast. Then I ran for a little while, my legs flying down cracked sidewalks and broken curbs. My sneakers slapped the pavement over and over, like a heartbeat I could control. I didn't look back. I couldn't.

After what felt like forever, I had to stop. My legs were sore, and my stomach was growling so loud I thought someone might hear it. I found a laundromat that was closed, its metal shutters half-down. I sat in the doorway, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to stay warm. My hoodie wasn't enough. The city was cold, even in summer. Or maybe it was just me.

Across the street, a homeless man curled up on a bench. He pulled a big piece of cardboard over himself like a blanket. I watched him arrange his little spot like he'd done it a hundred times. Maybe he had. I didn't know whether I felt sorry for him or afraid that I'd end up just like him.

I unwrapped the granola bar and ate it super slow, like each bite was gold. My stomach begged for more, but I had nothing else. My eyes burned, but I didn't cry. Not yet.

That's when I saw it.

A glowing, flickering light caught my eye from down the block. I almost ignored it, but something made me stand up and walk closer.

It was an old, beat-up bulletin board stuck to the side of a wall. Most of the flyers were junk-missing cats, garage sales, old concerts. But one stood out.

It was taped crooked, like someone stuck it there in a hurry. It had a hand-drawn picture of a house with a big smiley sun above it. It looked like a kid had drawn it. And underneath, in big letters, it said:

St. Jude's Haven

A Safe Place for Young Hearts

Hope. Home. Family.

Open Doors. Open Hearts.

I stared at it for a long time.

It felt like a trap. Nothing in my life had ever offered "hope" and actually meant it. What if it was just another place that hurt people quietly? What if they made you do chores all day or yelled at you like my parents did? What if they turned me away because I was too old or not broken enough?

But then again... what if it was real?

What if someone out there actually meant those words?

I looked at the little map scribbled on the bottom of the flyer. It wasn't that far, maybe a few blocks. I was already out here. I was already running. I had nothing left to lose.

So I went.

I kept walking, one block at a time, hugging my backpack like it was the only thing in the world that belonged to me. The sun hadn't come up yet, but the sky was getting lighter. It was that grey-blue color it turns before dawn.

My feet hurt. My hands were freezing. I was tired in every way a person could be tired. But I didn't stop.

And finally, I saw it.

At the end of a quiet street, tucked between a church and a row of old buildings, there it was. A white house with peeling paint and a garden that looked kind of wild, like no one knew whether to tame it or let it grow free. There was a light on in the front window.

St. Jude's Haven.

I stood across the street and stared at it for a long time. My heart was beating so hard I felt it in my ears. I thought about turning around. I thought about just walking until my legs gave out.

But I didn't.

Because if I didn't knock, I'd never know.

So I crossed the street.

And knocked on the door.

Let me know if you'd like Chapter 3 from this same perspective or want to explore it through another character's eyes (like someone at St. Jude's).