Title: Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast
Marie stood in her bathroom, gazing at herself in the mirror and wondering at what she saw. Today, instead of an inmate, she saw a woman beginning to earn her freedom. She noted the slight smile begin to creep across her mouth, one of the first not brought around by the Bard's comedic wit or through tormenting her parents. Sometime soon, she was going to stand outside in a thunderstorm, let the rain saturate her skin while the lightening shooting into the air raised the hairs on her arms towards the heavens. She was going to lie out at night and see all the constellations at once instead of whichever one happened to be over her skylight at that time of the year. She was going to smell a rose in a world-renowned garden and then see of Shakespeare's works done by real actors instead of her handmade puppets.
The front door slamming and the sound of her parents' SUV backing out of the driveway caused her to flinch as she was jerked out of fantasyland and back to her bathroom. The sound acting like the flag dropping at a NASCAR race, she pulled her scarf over her face, raised the wooden leg removed from the corner of her bed frame and smashed it into the mirror, causing exploding silver shards to be flung everywhere like confetti. Grinning again, stomach butterflies fluttering and scarf floating off her face to the floor, her old combat boots crunched the glass as she ran to switch the music to AC/DC. She wrenched the dial farther than her parents would have ever allowed before and used the heavy rock to ground herself. 'Jailbreak' had never been more appropriate.
"Jesus Wolvie!" shredded his eardrums when Jubilee decided it was a good idea to lean up from the back and shriek when he slammed on the brakes a few hours out of New Orleans. Evidently there was an accident ten miles up the road that had turned the highway into a parking lot and no one had been paying attention to the stopped cars, causing even more fender benders. He pounded the steering wheel, almost denting it in his anger. This was just his fucking luck. Could anything go right today? "You girls should be thanking the nail polish gods or whoever you pray to that my reflexes are as good as they are cuz the blood from that accident would have stained your clothes." Kitty leaned forward and swatted him in the head, a move he chose not to avoid, seeing how he only said it to get a rise anyway.
"Thanks oh great Logan, for your amazing abilities. No one could punch the brakes as well as you. We'll be sure to bow down to your greatness when we get out of this god-forsaken car." He smirked. It was nice having proof that your lessons had been well learned and Kitty had taken to his sarcasm teachings like Magneto in a steel factory.
"Stop wasting your breath with that bullshit that no one believes and get on that fancy ass phone of yours and find directions to the nearest decent sized town with food. Cuz we're getting off this highway at the next exit two miles up. Start typing princess. I'm starving"
Marie clamored down the stairs for the fourth time, this trip lugging her copy of the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe and one of the towel racks ripped off the wall from the bathroom. She kneeled on the landing, double-checked the duct tape (parental mistake number one) holding open the dog door type meal slot and attached a loop of duct tape to the end of the pole. Slipping the book out the slot, she added it to the pile already in the hallway and readjusted the piece of mirror on the top of the books until she could see the dead bolt above the doorknob. She had learned on her last escape attempt that the doorknob, only on the outside of the door, took a key to open, which is what ended that try because she couldn't pick the lock. In theory, that shouldn't be an issue with her new plan.
She slipped the pole out the slot and wrenched her arm around, using the mirror to guide the end of the bar to the deadbolt. The duct tape stuck to the bottom and she slid her arm over until she could get the proper torque to get the lock to open. Three attempts later, she felt it slide. She pulled the bar back through and grabbed her flashlight, shining it through the crack in the door to see that the obstruction of the lock was no longer there. Happy dance! She did a little half jig before kneeling back down to start step two.
She turned the mirror around so she could see the bottom hinge of the door and took a deep breath. This was the part she had never had a chance to try before, lacking the knife or anything thin yet strong enough to wedge into the space between the pin and the frame wing. She used the can of WD-40 her dad, after months of coaxing, had given her last year (mistake number 3) to spray the hinge, hoping to dislodge any rust because the door hadn't been opened for five years. Then, silence flowed into the room, halting everything in its wake. Marie franticly dropped the can and booked it up the stairs as quickly as she could. She was shaking from the breath robbing, oppressive silence by the time she got to the stereo and restarted the CD, needing the sound to keep her going. She went to her bed and grabbed Norbert, cuddling the rabbit until her heart stopped racing and she felt calm enough to return to her task though, this time, she made sure he was there as company.
Marie settled onto her knees to lean into the door enough to force both her arms out the hole. It was a tight squeeze and she was pretty sure her shoulder may soon be out of socket, but it would be a pain well worth the reward. She squinted into the mirror, picked up the butter knife in her left hand and her pet rock in her right (#2, parents were so gullible sometimes) and positioned the tip of the knife under the top of the pin in the hinge. Then, using the rock as a hammer, she pounded on the end of the knife until the pin began reluctantly giving up its happy home, eventually plunking to the floor. Yes!
Excitement bubbling, this was the closest she had been to floorboards she hadn't walked in five years, she sat back against the pillow leaning on the bottom stair and braced her feet on the pinless bottom corner of the door, with knees bent. The rock was in position next to her heel and she picked up the pole to complete her preparations. She worked to straighten her legs, using muscles strengthened by years of squat work and treadmill running, and pushed that part of the door far enough from the frame to get the pole wedged into the crack caused by the pressure. Moving the pole further up the door took a little more effort but it slowly scooted along, forcing more of an opening between the two pieces of wood until the crack was finally big enough for her to force the rock into place, giving her about a four-inch gap. She relaxed her legs with a sigh, seeing the rock hold the space open as she had hoped and got to her feet with a sight groan, stretching her back out as she rose.
After loosening up a little she found the corner post of her bed on the second stair, where she had left it, and forced it into the gap at the bottom of the door, slowly sliding up until the pressure forced her to resume her previous position to gain added inches. The sound of wood creaking and splintering egged her on, but about a third of the way up the door, the post stuck. On her feet again, she pushed and pulled on the post using the leverage to help her crack more wood on the door, each creek and splinter giving her a little more space to move the post up until it was at the halfway point. Short of breath and sweating now, she patted herself on the back for taking the time to unlock the deadbolt because she was pretty sure it would have caused another point of stability in the door, which she probably wouldn't have been able to counteract no matter how much leverage she created. She glared at the doorway, daring it to continue keeping her prisoner when she was so determined to get out, and took a deep breath. Time to put in the work.
She grabbed the post and started rocking it back and forth again, using not only her body weight, but also added avalanching energy from years of unexpressed anger. Her fucking parents had stolen her life. Pull, slide up. She should have graduated high school. Push, creak, slide up. She should have gotten counseling for putting her best friend in a coma, not solitary confinement. Pull, slide up. She should have a license. Push, slide up. She shouldn't be the only Goddamn 20-year-old virgin in Mississippi! Pull, crack boom. Marie staggered from the sudden lack of resistance. With a sound almost like a gunshot, the wood around the top hinge had given way and finally popped out of its home in the frame allowing her to push the door over until it clattered to the floor, granting her freedom.
Smile stretching from ear to ear, she turned around and ran up the stairs to her stereo to turn up the music as loud as it could go, hoping that the sound would carry through the whole house. She grabbed Norbert on her way back down the steps and slowly stepped through the threshold, nervousness and excitement racing through her blood stream. She practically skipped down the hallway, peeking into every room to see get a general idea of the layout of the house because they had moved here after "the incident" meaning she had only ever been in the attic. She saw the master bedroom, a bathroom and a guest room on this floor before she made it down the next flight of stairs to the main floor, getting dumped out into the all white living room. She made a face as she continued on to the kitchen, spotless as ever, and found the formal dining room as well as another bathroom. None of which she wanted. Finally, off a short hallway from the dining room, she found the family office and the laundry closet. Score!
Marie started humming along with The Rolling Stones as she grabbed a laundry basket and made her way up to her room to get her wet clothes. No use booking it with wet things now was there? Filling the basket took a mere minute then she was heading back to the laundry room to throw her stuff in the dryer. It would be so nice to have fabric softener!
After setting the clothes on high (didn't want to push her time too much) she made her way to the office, looking for the family bible. It sat right in its place of honor on the bookshelf, waiting for her to come pick it up and look for slightly hidden pocket on the back cover where, predictably, she found a copy of her birth certificate and her social security card amongst her parents papers. Occasionally, having parents with type A personalities could be a blessing.
Next, she turned around and set Norbert on the roll top desk so he could oversee her digging through all of the books strewn across it and through the drawers. Her parents were very distrustful of banks and had always made it a point to hide little stashes of money all over the house for "just in case" situations. With luck, she could locate most of them and not be totally penniless when she left. Her "ah ha" moment led to her pulling the bottom drawer of the desk out completely and upending it, causing the false bottom and 200 dollars in cash to fall to the floor. They had had a desk just like this at the old house and she had occasionally helped herself to a little money. Her father, the only one that used the office, had never said anything even though he had to have noticed because the money was always replenished. A somewhat fond feeling began inching across chest before she squashed it. That had been Before. She wondered how he would take the missing money this time around. Probably not nearly as well.
Norbert and her continued the treasure hunt, combing the kitchen (300 in the freezer), living room (150 in the cushion of the sofa) and upstairs bedrooms (150 in a box in the closet) before she was satisfied that the house was picked clean. In the bedroom she also found a portable CD player and a CD case that she took to the attic to fill with all her favorite music. She put both, along with the money, birth certificate and social, into a backpack and went back downstairs in search of extra batteries and some food that would travel well. A 10 pack of AA's, granola bars, bagels, a jar of peanut butter, the bag of oranges and a three bottles of water joined the group. She went through the house picking up this and that, making sure to get everything on the prepared list she had memorized over three years ago. When the backpack was filled to the brim, weighing in at around 30 lbs., she decided to call it quits and get on to the rest of her packing.
She dug through her parents' closet, finding an old green army duffel that would be perfect for her purposes. As she was turning away she noticed two pairs of her mother's long satin gloves, which she tossed into the bag as an after thought. No such thing as too many gloves, right? She headed back upstairs and found the stash of unworn clothes she had hidden behind a bookcase after realizing one day that new clothing would be an added expense that she couldn't afford when she was on the road. Her 'Complete Works of Shakespeare', 'Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe', 'Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy trilogy' and notebook thumped in after the clothing. One did not leave ones best friends behind, she reassured herself with a nod. In the bathroom, she snagged unopened bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a fresh bar of soap (already in a baggie) from under the sink and used her mother's stolen lipstick to write a message on the wall. Leaving the lipstick on the counter in the bathroom, she took quick stock of the rest of the attic, making sure nothing of importance was being left behind. She glanced longingly at her bookcase, overflowing with friends and enemies that had gotten her through the years, yearning for the ability to take them with her. Running her fingers down the poor, overused spines she vowed to herself that she would own all of those books again plus others, once she found a place to belong.
Shaking herself out of the melancholy took only a minute when she remembered that she was leaving for good so she walked down the stairs the final time with a light heart. She stopped quickly in the laundry room and stuffed her now dry clothes into the duffel bag with Norbert in his prideful place on the top. He smiled goofily at her when she zipped the bag over his head, as excited as she was to be heading out. Marie grabbed the CD player from its place in the backpack and threw the bag over her shoulder before picking up the duffel and heading towards the front door. Last things she did before stepping into the sunshine was put the earphones in and whisper the same thing she had left as a note to her family.
"Now go we in content to liberty, and not to banishment."
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry it took a little bit for this. The holidays are crazy when your family is as big as mine. Hopefully chapters won't be this spread out, but I can't promise much because I'm off to stage manage a show in January and theatre has a tendency to eat your life. Thanks to the reviewers! I write for you!
Also, no worries. They will be meeting soon.
Also, no worries. They will be meeting soon.
Chapter End Notes:
“Now go we in content to liberty, and not to banishment.”- from 'As you like it'
Let me know what you like and what you don't please! Kiss Kiss!
Let me know what you like and what you don't please! Kiss Kiss!