Leaving

She stared at her door, her heart racing despite how still she sat on her bed. She could do this. She had to if she wanted to be happy. If she wanted to live. Making the decision, she got up, grabbed her backpack and messenger bag, and walked out the room. She saw the dull blue light of the television fill the living room and the hallway she was in. She walked slowly, careful not to make a sound. She could hear them. Their soft snores and the quiet chatter of some late night show. She quietly entered the living room and looked at her sleeping parents. Her father with his arm around her mother’s shoulders, their faces so much younger looking, the worry of the day slipping away as they slept. Looking at them, she thought that she could love them and that they could love her.

She knew better now. They couldn’t love her and she certainly couldn’t love them. She took a silent breath and walked out of the living room and into the front hall, her ears carefully trained on any sound from the living room. She walked right up to the front door and internally cheered as she turned the handle.

“And where do you think you’re going this late at night?” she froze as the cold steel of her father’s voice sliced through her relief, “Turn around Izzy and explain yourself.” despite herself, Izzy turned around, her face hot with anger and embarrassment.

“I’m leaving.” she said, looking directly into her father’s glare, open rebellion and hate present in her brown eyes.

“Ha, no you’re not.” Izzy’s stare caught her mother as she came into view, “Now close that door and get back to bed.” Her voice was covered in sugar but the threat was there and Izzy noted it.

“NO,” Izzy replied, clenching the hem of her jacket, “I am leaving and there’s nothing you can do.” she said resolutely. She began to back walk out the door when her father pulled a small handgun from behind him.

“Please, Isabell, just go to your room. We don’t want to hurt you.” her father pointed the gun at her head and clicked the bullet into place, “Please.”

“You can’t shoot me,” Izzy stared her parents down, “I know better. I know what I am and I know you can’t hurt me!” she shouted before sprinting out of the house. She ran to her car and unlocked it, thankful that the boy who she had met a few weeks ago helped her debug the whole car so they couldn’t trace her. She got in and started the car, pulling away just as her parents came out of the house, guns held in front of them. She saw them in her rear view mirror, staring after her as she drove off. Izzy knew that they still could have shot her from that distance, she wondered vaguely why they didn’t.