She was a pitiable sight: with tears flowing down her sullen and gaunt cheeks from her two waterfalls which seemed to have an unceasing supply of tears.  Her salty tears mixing with mucus, she had no other option but to lie on the cold and barren street in the desolate and dark night.  She anticipated fervently for a passer-by to help her, or maybe he would let her back to the house again.

She knew that she was defeated by him.

He was her father.

His face often carried that cryptic look, one that made her cringe with fear; one that made her obey his wishes not out of reverence but of submission to his terrorizing character; one that made her feel ashamed in front of her friends.

She wanted to escape, and an overpowering desire engulfed her in agonizing waves as she contemplated the consequences of running away from home.   She thought of running away from home to earn a living and escape from the miserable, depressing and gloomy house.

$500.  That was how much money she had saved to live on.  It was enough to last her for a month, but for a lifetime?

Her chance came at last.

Clutching her bag with her precious $500, she stealthily crept to the door where she gingerly touched the knob to open the door.  She turned the knob a little, and glanced back.  She turned the knob a little bit more, she glanced back again.  She saw the crevice of the door peeping at her, and she glanced furtively around, poking her small head through.  She glanced back at her home, and slipped out of the house in the shadow of the night…

At last, she was safe.

She was free.

Suddenly, the door flung open, a firm slap on her back sent her tumbling down the steps.  In a moment of shock, agony and desperation, she tried to wiggle away from that person’s grab.  Struggling to stand on her own feet, she came face to face with a man.

It was her father.

Oh darn, that was him again, she muttered under her breath.

He ranted and raved madly in front of her, his eye were bloodshot, his clothes smelt of beer, his breath was rancid; his voice had a condescending tone.

He then snatched her bag, her only means of survival, away from her.  He retreated back to the house and slammed the door so hard that the ground she was on trembled like a leaf.

She realised to herself that he had not dragged her back to the house, like the many attempts she had tried but to no avail.

She looked around the empty street.  She wished she could escape.  She was afraid of him, coming back to search for her.  Yet, she wanted to run away.

What could she do with no money or even a scrap of bread to survive the long and arduous journey in eking out a living?

How can I survive? thought the forlorn girl.

Yet, with nothing in her hands or her pocket, she walked briskly away from the house.

Yes, she had escaped.

Brenda Khoo(3G)


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