He has two reasons to leave for good. Only one of those reasons would end his life, but the second reason seemed far worse than death, so he was going.
He pulled out a bag and stuffed in T-shirts, shorts, his favourite book, a torchlight, and the cans of food he had stowed away inside his rainboots. It was time to go. With every step toward the door, it dawned on him that this would never be home again.
Walking toward the baby’s crib, he pulled a chair close and climbed it to get even closer to his sister. “Bye Mimi,” he whispered, tucking a finger in her closed chubby palm
His mother’s voice startled him.
“What are you doing, can't you let your sister sleep?”, ” she asked, her voice sharp but low.
He froze.
“Is that your school bag?” She gestured to his hand.
He dared not speak. The front door was right there, just a few steps away, but he felt rooted to the spot. Slowly, he placed the bag in her outstretched hand and kept quiet as she examined the contents one by one.
“This boy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You need to sit down.”
He obeyed.
“Explain this,” she said, gesturing to the items she’d removed from the bag. “What was the plan?”
She started to laugh, picked up her phone and placed a video call to his father. “Look,” she said, gesturing with her free hand, “your son is trying to run away again because I said no birthday party this year and I’ve locked up his video games for a month."
The boy sank deeper into his seat, burning with embarrassment. On the other end of the line, his father’s laughter erupted, loud and unrestrained.
“Ah, so this is your great escape?” his father said. “Maybe we should add another week to the punishment, eh?”
The boy crossed his arms and glared at the floor, muttering under his breath, how he’d try again—when they least expected it.
They laughed even louder.
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