(no subject)
Title: Break Away
Author: ofsoapsuds
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She was told to never go beyond the rickety green fence.
She was told to never go beyond the rickety green gate at the end of the property. Never to venture outside the yard that could be seen from the kitchen window or else she would be thoroughly punished. Lanie shuddered as memories assailed her, memories better left under lock and key. Thoughts so merciless that Lanie almost ran away from the foreboding, yet dilapidated, house.
‘No, I won’t do this,’ she thought, squaring her shoulders and pushing open the gate.
She hesitated at the door, the cold hard metal of the rusty copper key in her hand rested as heavily in her shaky palm as her rapidly beating heart rested in her chest. With this key, she was about to unleash the demons that she had barely kept at bay for ten years. It took her two tries before she was able to shove the key in to the keyhole and twisting both the key and the doorknob, Lanie stepped into the hell-hole that had been her home for eighteen years. Standing at the threshold she instantly felt as though she was an innocent little girl of eight with her dark brown hair in pigtails instead of the woman of twenty-eight who had more emotional scars than most people. She was stunned to see all the furniture still in their place as well as the magazines and books that had always been thrown haphazardly in the coffee table.
Lanie cautiously stepped around the bits of broken plates that littered the front walkway rug to turn on the lamp sitting next to the sagging couch, intent on not twisting the her ankles in the high heeled boots that she had stupidly decided to wear. The yellow glow emitting from the lamp made the already dirty yellow mustard curtains look even more disgusting than what they really were. Lanie dared herself not to go to those curtains and search out the stain that inhabited the majority of the bottom left curtain, a stain left behind from a bloody back, hers.
Lanie had to stifle the tears that had been brought to her moss green eyes and turned away from that memory and moved to another as she walked into the kitchen where upon she saw the deadly cast iron skillet resting on the stove. Unconsciously, she began rubbing her right arm where it had been broken as she remembered trying to defend herself from her mother who was in the middle of an alcohol induced fit. It didn’t matter if the skillet was hot or not because it was her mother’s favorite weapon of choice whether it was against her or her father.
Lanie shuddered at the imaginary pain that coursed through her body. It wasn’t uncommon for her to come home from school to find her mother ranting and raving, yielding the deadly skillet, and having to suddenly defend herself from the constant pounding of the hard metal. Even though the skillet was her mother’s favorite weapon it did not compare to the iron that was used against her when she had been especially bad. She had the scars to prove her “horrific” behavior, but while her mother was utterly violent, it was her father that she feared the most.
Lanie’s father was both a dealer and user of many life ending drugs, such as cocaine and heroin. When he was dealing, Lanie was kept away from the clients, but when he was paying for his own supply of drugs, she would be present as a means of payment. From the young age of ten Lanie’s father whored her out to his dealers and he sometimes even used her for himself whether he was sober or not.
Gazing about the kitchen, Lanie shook her head in despair before backing out and moving quickly upstairs to her room as well as her parents’. She never had a safe haven in this place, not even the room that she desperately tried to hide in. She lost count of how many times her father had kicked the door in and had his way with her as she cried. At first she would cry for her mother but when it came apparent that no one would come to her aid she would just sob quietly as she waited for the torture to end. Even now she could hear her sobs and her father’s grunts of pleasure echo from the room.
Lanie leaned against the wall opposite to her room remembering how as soon as she had turned eighteen she had climbed out her window and run away, leaving all this torment behind. At the time she had thought she could just forget all the memories, but eventually the past caught up to her and began turning her once pleasant dreams of a happy home into nightmares filled with drugs, burning flesh, and death.
Eventually, she was persuaded by her friends to seek help for her “problems,” as it was delicately put and so she began to see a psychologist recommended to her by her roommate. Slowly, she began facing her painful past but it was the suggestion that she visit her parents and see her childhood home that she refused to do. It wasn’t until she got the call that her parents were dead, that they had killed each other in a drunken rage that she even began to consider going home again. She was at an impasse in her recovery that her therapist was quite happy to point out. “You won’t get better until you see them,” her therapist informed her smiling. So it was with that voice ringing in her ears that she headed home and thus here she was leaning against the wall contemplating her fear of the house and her parents. As she stood there, she began to realize that she had done better than what her parents had predicted of her. She had made something of her life and done better than her parents, even with her father’s drug money. It was with this awareness that she finally began to feel as though she was an important human being. She had gone and made something of her name and had allowed herself to be happy with what she had been given.
Lanie smiled as she pulled her iPhone out of her designer handbag and called the realtor she had hired before visiting the house. “Hi, this is Ms. Lanie Davidson. I’m doing well, sir,” Lanie muttered trying to be polite and not interrupt the man. “Mr. Swarg, I would like you to please knock down the house of Cherry Drive, 402 to be exact.”
There was a muffled squealing on the other end of the phone as the man tried to convince her to do otherwise but she was adamant in her decision. “Mr. Swarg this is not a mistake, I want you to knock it down. I don’t want anything to be left standing,” she told him with as much fervor as she could convey in her voice.
The squealing continued but Lanie would not have it and told him so. “Mr. Swarg I don’t care that house has been standing for years, this is my house and I want it GONE! Goodbye!”
Hitting the end call button almost too hard, Lanie confidently walked down the stairs and out the front door. She paused at the rickety green gate, looked back at the house and confidently said on phrase before walking away from her parents for life. “I don’t need you anymore.”