What am I? Is this really something I can be?

I dreaded the idea of this moment for months. Maybe even years. I couldn’t tell you.

Holding a small, sealed envelope close to my chest, I tiptoed down the hallway. It was 3 A.M. and I didn’t want to wake up my parents. But I desperately needed to tell them something. But I also didn’t want to wake them up. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god.

I stopped and leaned against the wall, shaking. I clutched the letter even closer to me. I let a breath out, and it shook as it left my lungs. Maybe I just shouldn’t tell them anything. Maybe I should just go to bed and forget all about this.

I took a breath. I need to do this. I told myself I’d at least do this before I go.

I got off of the wall, and took another step toward the door. I can do this. I can.

In less time than I would have liked, I was staring at the door. All I would have to do is slide the envelope underneath the door, and then leave.

It felt like an eternity before I made my choice. I stared at the crack underneath the door for what could have been hours. I slowly crouched down. Still, the envelope was held near my chest. My hands clutched it closer to me the more I thought about sliding it underneath the door.

Shaking, I eventually forced my hands away from myself, and toward the small crack underneath the door. I slipped the envelope into the crack, and breathed. I had finally done it. This was it.

Panic immediately set back in. What if they’re angry? What if my parents secretly hate me for this? What will my sisters think? Oh god, they’ve had an older brother for so long, what the hell am I supposed to do?

Slowly, I stood up from the door. My hands weren’t shaking anymore. I walked back to my room, just as quietly as before. I opened my closet, pulled out a bag, and started to pack it. I was going to have to leave. Yup, no way around it.

Once the bag was full, I tossed it next to my door. I needed to figure out what might be important enough to take with me.First things first, I grabbed my phone and threw it into my pocket. I grabbed the charger it was connected to as well.

Next up, I made sure my wallet was in my pocket. It was. Lastly, I grabbed my journal. I mean, at least that way if I die, someone can know my story.

I went downstairs and walked out of the house, with no intention of looking back. I made the choice, and I knew it would have consequences. Maybe some consequences I wasn’t ready to face.

I think I had walked for somewhere around two hours before I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. It was probably just an early morning email or something. I pulled my phone out and looked at the notification.

Mom

We already know. Come home.

Author: Kay Walker

I write short stories, and post them to my site justmynarratives.com

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