Different day, same routine. School ended at 3:00 in the afternoon. I gathered my things from my locker and walked out of the cold building into the warm fresh air to find my friends. As we stand in a circle laughing, I’m actually mentally preparing myself for when I get home. I know it’ll be the same. I have to be home by 3:30pm, and if I’m not I won’t be able to leave my room for a week as punishment to help me “learn time.” It takes me twenty minutes to walk home, so that gives me ten minutes to hang around before I have to leave.
I start my long dreaded walk home thinking about what homework I have to do tonight and what projects I should start. I finally get to my house and unlock the door as I see my mom in the kitchen preparing something, I assume for dinner. My dogs, Bella and Buddy, run up excited to see me. I walk over to the back door taking a step out to open the door to let them outside to play when I hear the door slam behind me. I stare at the door for a few seconds while I try to figure out what happened. I slowly open the door and cautiously walk into the house, once again to find my mom walking out of the kitchen when she yells in a sarcastic tone, “Hi Claire, glad you’re home!”
I take that as a sign it won’t be a good day at the house, so I gather my things and go to my room to start on some homework. I sat on my bed working on a pre-calculus worksheet when I see her walk past my room to go to her bathroom fixing her hair with about seventeen different products. I’m not allowed to shut the door to my room because she wants to know what I’m doing at all times. I continue to listen to my blasting music and do my homework.
I hear a car screech to a stop outside my window and see my dad get out of his truck. Carrying his laptop, he walks up to the house. My mom calls me down for dinner, but even though I’m hungry from not eating lunch, I don’t want to eat.
My dad calls the second time, “Claire!” he roared. “If you aren’t in your seat at this table in the next 45 seconds, you won’t be given the privilege to ever have the decision to sit again!”
I then force myself to walk down the stairs to face my family knowing that he wasn’t kidding. It’s pretty quiet for a while; it’s not like I’m trying to make nice conversation. My parents start to argue over something small. I wasn’t really paying attention until they started yelling at me for a reason I could not find. As I was trying to keep my patience, they continued to scream at me calling me names and such while I stared down at the table not wanting to meet their eyes. I finished my dinner and asked to be excused to my room when they blew up.
“You can’t go to your room!” My mom yelled, “You just got here, spend some time with your parents. I gave birth to you, I raised you, I support you, I take care of you, I give you food, I keep a roof over your head, I buy you clothes why can’t you just do a simple favor of staying and spending time with me? Do you not like me? After all I’ve done for you?”
“Mom, I’m really tired and I have homework. May I please be excused to my room?” That’s when my dad joined in.
“Answer your mother when she’s talking to you! You can’t just switch conversations on people, that’s incredibly rude and disrespectful! Apologize to your mother right now you ungrateful filthy child,” he spat in my face.
“Fine. I’m sorry for wanting to go to my room and do my homework and for not responding to what she said.” My mom didn’t buy it, naturally.
I started to walk out of the room anyway when a large hand grabbed my arm and swung me around so fast I almost fell over. More yelling continued until I was quietly sobbing, unintentionally smudging my mascara. I felt like I was losing my mind, I had to get out, I’ve had enough of this place. This wasn’t a rare occurring event, this kind of stuff happened at least twice a week. Home shouldn’t have to be a place where you don’t feel safe, where you don’t feel like you belong. I didn’t belong. Saying I had to use the bathroom I sprinted upstairs grabbing my backpack, my tennis shoes, two pairs of socks, three different pairs of pants, a sweatshirt, a few t-shirts, my hat, toothbrush and toothpaste, my hairbrush, hair ties, everything from my purse, my phone, a charger, my favorite book, a water bottle, and all my saved money. I then quietly snuck out through the back door and started walking to a local park where I would stay the night. There were well-kept bathrooms, a pavilion, outlets, and benches. Night was approaching and it was getting cooler, so I decided to put on my sweatshirt to help keep me warm. It was getting late, probably 10:30pm so I decided to try to sleep.
I woke up later when I heard a car drive up and park in the lot. I checked my phone to see the time, 1:48am. Who would go to the park at almost 2 in the morning? There’s nothing to do; it’s too late for a soccer or baseball game. The person in the car didn’t get out, but turned all their lights out. I stayed frozen on the bench not sure if the person could see me or not. I slowly and carefully gathered my things, bringing everything closer to me. Suddenly the car door opened, not much, but enough. I slowly got my things and decided to go into the bathroom where I would feel a bit safer. I quickly walk over to the bathroom locking the door behind me. The lights are always on in the bathrooms, so I didn’t bother turning them off. I sat against the door fumbling through my bag to find my pepper spray. I was sure I brought it when I dumped out the content of my purse. I heard the car door shut and I shuddered. Did they get out? Did they decided to leave? I had no idea. There was a window, but you really couldn’t see out of it, especially since it was dark outside and there was a glare. I continued to search my bag as silently as possible for the pepper spray, or anything else that would make me feel safer. I grabbed something that felt like the mace my mom bought me a few years ago. It has been open, but never used. I gripped it firmly in one hand while I stuffed everything back in my bag with my other. I’ve been listening carefully for the car to drive away, but it hasn’t. It’s now 2:11 in the morning, and being stupid I forgot to check the time of when I came into the bathroom to see how much time has passed. I guessed I’ve been in here for about 20 minutes. I sat on the cold stone floor against the dark grey door for what seems like hours. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Nothing. I wonder if they have already left and I maybe missed it. I’m too afraid to try to go back to sleep so I pull out my book. I must have read it over 40 times, but that doesn’t matter to me. Then, I hear footsteps. I froze.
I sat completely still against the locked bathroom door not daring to even breathe. I squeezed the mace in my right hand so tightly my knuckles were white. Checking the time again, I see it’s now 3:04am. I sat a statue for what seemed like an eternity. It was 3:06am when I heard a few more footsteps. 3:10am, more footsteps. Seems as though they are moving every two minutes. My mind races as my anxiety fires up, Are they counting the two minutes, or do they have their phone? Is there just one person, or another waiting in the car? What are they trying to do? Are they trying to get me? What should I do?  I doubt they have a stopwatch, usually people don’t carry around a stopwatch, but it’s not like this is a perfectly normal situation either. At exactly 3:15am, there is a small knock at the door. I lean forward slightly for a split second so the sound of the knocking wouldn’t be muffled by my sitting against the door. I quickly reposition myself back against the door in case they tried to enter. I hear another quiet knock as I silently scramble away from the door just to go back to my original position. Then silence, complete silence. I hear footsteps once more, checking the time, it’s 3:27am. Finally I decide they must have gone back to their car because I hear the car door open and then shut again.
Sitting on the cool stone floor, I waited anticipating a new sound, even a repeating sound. I heard nothing for the longest time, and that was making me more nervous than anything. They could still be there. I’m still not able to sleep, not that I really want to at this point, but I don’t have much else to do. I decide it’s better if I stay locked in here as opposed to sleeping outside in the open on a park bench. I pick up my book again and start reading. After two chapters and I’ve calmed down, but I hear footsteps again.
The person is speaking to someone, straining their voice while whispering. Guessing from their voice it’s a man in his 30’s. I quickly but quietly set my book down in my bag and grip the mace even tighter in my hand than before. He hangs up and mumbles something under his breath clearly frustrated with whatever they were talking about. I’m not sure what happened over the phone, but it made him so upset that he must have forgotten his patience.
“I know you’re in there Claire Jones!” He yelled as he banged hard on the bathroom door.
How did he know my name? Do I know him? I leaned forward not wanting to muffle the sound, but also not wanting to move too far away from the door in case he tried to enter.
“You can either come out nicely or I can make you forcefully!”
Continuing to hold the mace in my hand, I debated whether it was worth it to comply willingly or if I should try to fight. I decide that I wouldn’t be able to call the police at the moment because he would hear me talking, plus, he was already obviously perturbed. I also didn’t know if he had a weapon, if there was another person with him, or who he was talking to over the phone. I sat completely still too frightened to do anything.
“Alright!” He bellowed, “You’re coming out right now!”
I realize that this is it, I grab only the things I need the most such as my phone and its charger, my money, and my mace deciding everything else I can sacrifice for my safety. He breaks the lock and throws the door open as I start spraying the mace as close to his eyes as I can get it while I try to sprint away.

1)
I sprint as fast as I can into the middle of the street where I whip out my phone waiting for a car to come by. I dial 9-1-1 to report the man when a car, thankfully, turned down the street. I threw my hands up in the air catching the driver’s attention.
He rolls down the window, “Can I help you, Miss?”
“Yes sir, do you think you could drive me to the police station? It’s about 2 miles away.”
“Sure, what happened?”
“Well sir, it’s been an extremely long night and it’s an even longer story, but I’m afraid I’m kind of in a bit of a hurry at the moment.” I told him before I hopped into the backseat of his car. Glancing out the window I see my attacker standing near the bathroom waving his arms like a maniac and yelling something I do not care to know.