Eating Pavement

light-under-doorComplete darkness, except for the thin beam of light that found its way through the crack of the closet door.  I hoped that if I stood quiet enough I would somehow vanish from that bedroom and awaken within the comforts of my own blankets. Sweat beaded up on my forehead until it formed a steady stream flowing onto my neck and down the middle of my back.

I could see the shadows flickering across my bare feet as the angry man on the other side of the doors paced back and forth. In all of my 16 years, I had neveer been so close to death.

He had heard someone else in the room other than his daughter. The door was locked when he tried turning the handle, which enraged him even further. He pounded on the door so hard I was sure it would give way. Like bolts of lightning sending out a warning of a coming storm. I had no time to back out of the window from which I had entered, so I dashed into the closet and hid among the rows of plaid skirts and white blouses.

window-at-night3<"I know you had a boy in this room! I heard him!" he screamed. "Why was the door locked! Why is the window open!" I could feel the heat pouring from his body as he broke the beam of light and stood inches from the opening. Please let me wake up, please open your eyes and let me be somewhere else, I told myself as I tried to teleport to another place..any place.

Then I heard the window slam shut and lock. "If I find out you had someone in this room I will send you live with your grandmother, do you understand me!" He shouted as he stomped his feet out the door and slammed it close behind him.

I waited for a moment, I would have waited there all night if I had to, afraid to move. Then the door slid open and the girl on the other side was standing there with my black and white checkered board vans in one hand and my Levi's in the other. Without a word I kissed her strawberry red lips and quickly lifted up on the bedroom window. Just as I did the clasp caught the glass and squeaked ever so lightly.

Then with booming thunder the door came crashing open.  I never looked behind me to see the raging bull whose eyes only saw the red of my blood. I dove through the window without ever making contact with the frame. Like a basketball swishing through a net. Just as my hands hit the tiles of the second story roof top I was stopped. He had a hold of my leg with his arm stretching out as far it could go. I flipped and turned and found myself in a frantic panic, like a wild animal caught in a trap. I bucked and kicked until I got myself free. I would have left the foot behind if necessary. I slid down the gutter and dropped to the wet grass below. With my pants in my hand and my shoes still on the roof, I took off down the street as fast as I could possibly go.

I felt a relief as I grew further and further from harms way. The cool night air was cold upon the sweat of my brow. My feet hurting from the hard pavement. Then all of a sudden I hit the ground with a painful thump. Gravel embedded itself into my knees and hands. Blood emerged from a cut in my cheek as this beast of a man flipped me over. One hand gripping my hair tight and the other hand holding a 38 pressed deep into the flesh of my forehead. Now that was the first time I had ever had a gun pointed at my face, but it surely wouldn’t be my last. The round circle of his barrel would remain visible in my skin for weeks to come.

He clicked back the trigger and said “If I ever see you in my house again, I will kill you. Do I make myself clear!” He said with a very believable tone to his voice. I nodded in agreement as he lifted my head up and slammed it against the road. I stumbled home that night, no shoes on my feet, blood running from my knees and face. Wondering how much pain I was going to be in when I woke up the next day.

I did kept my promise to that man, I never did enter his house again. However I did make use of the tool shed in his backyard. I learned that spite can be a very powerful motivator at times. I guess the moral of this story is, if your going to walk on the wild side…wear shoes with laces.


About paulsdahlman

Born in Southern California, raised on the road and now growing roots in New England. I am on the journey of my lifetime. May the footprints I leave behind form the words to my story.
This entry was posted in Enlightenment, Life experience, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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