Frigid (W.I.P)

“Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold.”

Andre Maurois

Trepidation. Everyone else in the house was asleep by then, even Mother–I made sure of that. But still, that’s the best word I can find to describe the feeling. Trepidation.

Not even I fully understood it. Behind me, there was a pull. Thanksgiving had been but a day and a few hours ago, and it was wonderful. The supper was wonderful, I saw all sorts of family that had been longing to see each other. There was an air of love and appreciation. One of tranquility amidst the turmoil. So leaving that behind and disappearing in the middle of the night–would that not count as treachery?

But I also felt a push. A push incited by the cutting choice words of the irreverent, hypocritical, fundamentalist zealot that I call “Mother”. Her desire to constantly remind me that I would inherit nothing from her, that I depended on her to survive and would not last with my more up-to-date points of view. And the push from my friends, the one that popped the bubble, that shouted in the echo chamber, that shook my mind and helped me come to the conclusion that these skirmishes, all the events of the past several months, were not normal, and I could take things into my own hands. I could fly in the face of her hate and the complacency of those around me. And that was enough to fight my way against that pull.

I planned it out, you know. I chose a time when I knew my brother and both my parents would be asleep. I took note of exactly where the floor creaked in the hallway outside of my room. I then took several sheets of paper, and laid them on top of each of the spots I could find, as to avoid them on my way out just in case anyone woke up. Then the only problem was where I’d escape from, but I had a solution to that too. There was a security system installed, but through prior knowledge, I knew that the sensors on the exit in the bottom near the boiler room had long since been damaged. Open it and no alarm would sound. It’s the only one that does that, and since I’m the one that likes to fiddle around out there, it went unnoticed. That had to be the best option for me.

It was just past 3 a.m. I got up. I was laying in bed idly for a while, but now is when I mobilised myself. I put on my jogging pants, and my shirt. I put on a hoodie, and a slightly thicker jacket over that. I put on gloves, a trapper hat, then I folded up the directions to the hospital that I had printed out earlier, and started out the bedroom door.

The trick is to not push the door slowly; that’s when the creaks happen. You swing it open in one swift motion, without hesitation, and stop it so as to leave just enough room for you to squeeze by.

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