The day started out bleak and boring and turned horrific and traumatizing when she opened the front door. Vanessa was ready to go about the rest of her day normally, but that never happened. 

Her deep-sea blue backpack hit her dark army-green zip up sweatshirt as she slung her backpack from the passenger seat out. The cold air of Cando, North Dakota took leaves off the trees and threw them down with elegance.

Vanessa was a smart, beautiful, and athletic girl. She was 16, a junior in highschool. She was averaging 5’5”, with long wavy black hair, big brown eyes, and beautiful and silky ivory skin. The rest of her outfit consisted of black leggings, white Nike shoes, with sleek golden rings and a matching necklace with a cross. It was a gift from her mother.

As she started walking to her one-story, off-white, normal house, she looked to see a muddy and dirt-covered silver truck in the driveway. A slight smile cracked her lips; her dad usually got home late, so she was happy he was home. She didn’t know what she was about to walk into, or how her life would change afterward… 

She walked up the light-gray concrete stairs to the screen door, which welcomed her inside. 

“Vanessa!” A concerned voice shouted from what sounded like the living room. She took off her backpack and she replied, “Yeah!” 

She heard shuffling in the living room; it sounded like someone was moving papers and or heavy objects on their oak coffee table. Vanessa closed the doors behind her and bent down to unlace her shoes. She slipped them off and placed them on the mat near the door. She pulled herself up and started to walk down the hallway to her room, only to be met with her dad standing right infront of her, teary-eyed. 

What happened? She thought.

“Are you okay, Dad?” Vanessa asked.

“Vanessa, it’s your mother,” he paused, trying his best to hold back tears, “she’s gone.” He burst into tears of pure depression.

“What?” Vanessa said, stung with shock. She and her mother were very close, as she worked from home as well as around the house. Her dad worked long hours so it was just her and her mom for long periods of time. They had many things in common that strengthened their relationship: how they loved watching horror movies together, loved shopping with one another, or just going out places and having fun. They especially loved running. It was a hobby for them, a bonding experience.

Vanessa’s eyes instantly stung as  slow tears ran down her smooth face.

“She was in an accident, she was running-” her father explained, but he couldn’t finish his thoughts. Vanessa looked up to see his brown eyes with sorrow behind them. His face was tired. His stubble was black as is his hair, with his skin only a few shades darker than her own. 

It seemed to Vanessa that all at once her life was destroyed. 

The young heart-broken girl sat sobbing on her bed, staring at wrinkles on her bed sheet. In the corner of her cream-colored walls, accented with warm hanging lights and dark, grass-green fake ivy vines. She had the lights off, to match her mood. Her door was closed. Her phone was next to her, with a thousand notifications, and more continuing to light up the abyss of the screen.

She stared at her phone with eyes of misery, slowly watching the questions on her screen: “Where are you?”, “Why aren't you here?”, “Are you sick?” She ignored them all. Her father decided that everyone and their brother should know their business, and so, the news had released their story late last night for parents and rebellious teens to see. 

Vanessa didn’t have the energy to go to school, and she was excused for the rest of the month for a grieving period. But no one can even remotely “get over” the death of a parent in that amount of time-the death of a very close relationship. Vanessa sunk in her piles of blankets and pillows, trying to drown out the world and sit in her sorrow. 

Although she was hungry, she couldn’t eat. Although she was tired, she couldn’t sleep. She was anxious. She was depressed. She had all these things wrong with her and her support system couldn’t help her anymore. 

Hours passed without her knowing before she started to respond to the millions of messages. 

“I’m at home.” “I’m not doing well.” “I just need a bit.” “I’ll be ok.” She knew the last one she sent out wasn’t true in the slightest. 

Since she couldn’t eat or sleep, she decided to go to the woods. She got up, changed her shirt and pants to darker colors, laced her dirty black Converse high-tops and slowly opened her door. As she walked down the hallway to get to the kitchen, she saw her dad sitting on the couch, asleep, a bottle of Vodka in his hand. There were more scattered around him, dripping their poison onto the brown-tinted carpet, soaking it in.

Tears started swelling in her eyes again as she quietly moved into the kitchen past the maple table and chairs, past the silver sink, the dishwasher, the fridge, and headed for the side door. She opened it and closed it behind her as she immediately felt the cold autumn air hit her skin, like an arrow to a heart. She followed a path, leading the way with slabs of various colors of stone. Some were dark or lighter gray, others a lightened red, or a desaturated blue. She remembered placing the heavy stones there with her mother when she was younger. Everything was heavy when you were younger.

She followed the path past their wire fence that glistened in the moon’s cold light. Vanessa walked further and further into the barren forest, stepping on crunching leaves and crushing sticks beneath her. She smelled the bark, the trees, the leaves-smelled the world. She felt like it understood her, how it understood her emotions, how it comforted her-just like how her mother would. She continued walking, hearing the nighttime sounds of distant howls and loud chirps of crickets. 

She got to the end of the path after walking for around 15 minutes, to find a single bench. A wooden bench. Memories started flooding back as the tears started flooding out. She laid down on the bench and closed her eyes to no avail. So she just laid there, laying in the dark, thinking, remembering.

The morning came, the sun drowned out the moon and dark sky. So it was around seven in the morning. She slowly got up, feeling even more tired. She got back to her house, and slipped inside after she poked her head out of the kitchen to see her dad in the exact same spot as she did last night. She slowly pulled back, then opened the fridge. She didn’t want to eat anything. She couldn’t eat anything. She shuffled inside and saw her father. 

He tried to say something but Vanessa couldn’t understand him. He’s still drunk. And she was right. He reeked of alcohol and looked severely hungover. He looked up at Vanessa and mumbled; Vanessa didn’t know what to do, so she walked to the front door. She took her lanyard that jingled with house and car keys accompanied with a couple of membership cards.

She unlocked the door and stepped outside with a Minnesota Wild hockey hat. Vanessa opened the door with a tug and shut it behind her as she pressed her car key and heard a responding beep. She opened the door to her white, 2016 Toyota Avalon and started the engine. Vanessa backed out of the driveway and headed to the gas station. 

She arrived at the gas station as the sun started to set. Vanessa  filled up her car’s tank and walked inside. She slapped down a ten dollar bill on the counter and said “On pump three.” 

As she started walking to the cold drinks behind glass, she hoped she could eat or drink something. The cashier looked older than her. He was certainly taller, maybe 5’11 going on 6 feet or more. He looked familiar though. The two of them had probably had a handful of conversations. However, Vanessa couldn’t remember his name; all she could remember was that at school he looked and acted tough, but when they talked a scarce amount of times, he was sweet. 

“Yeah, I can tell,” he laughed sarcastically. 

“What?” Vanessa asked, turning back to look at him. It was the first time she noticed his pale blue, almost gray, eyes.

“You’re the only one here,” he said, opening the cash register and slipping the ten dollar bill in the slot. Vanessa gave a slight smile and turned to continue walking to the drinks. A few minutes later she came back to the counter and placed a 20 fl oz bottle of Coca Cola, a pack of gum, and a small bag of Lay’s Original chips on the table. The cashier smiled and Vanessa saw his nametag. Written in neat, bold, black letters, was the name, “EVAN”.

Evan noticed her looking at his name tag as he finished scanning her items. 

“Hi,” he said in a nonchalant tone. “I’m Evan.” He stuck his hand out and Vanessa shook it.

“Yeah, I know, your name tag,” Vanessa said. 

“Yeah.” Evan smiled awkwardly. Vanessa tried to match his energy and put on a fake-smile, but she couldn’t. “Are you ok?” His smile disappeared.                                                              

Then all at once she couldn’t take it anymore. She burst into silent tears, streaming down her face. Evan panicked and hurried around the counter to help her. In a swift motion, Evan wrapped his arms around her and she did the same. They just stood there, together, Vanessa letting her emotions out and he just held her. She felt like he understood. A few seconds later she pulled away, and he let go. 

“I’m sorry.” Vanessa sniffled. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. Vanessa hugged him again. Vanessa pulled away again and felt tug on her pocket. She pulled out a small slip of paper with a phone number on it. 

“Call me if you need help,” Evan said as he pushed her stuff to her and took out a five dollar bill from his old, brown, leather wallet and put it in the register. 

“Thank you,” Vanessa said. She took her things and walked to her car, dumping them into the passenger seat as soon as she got in, and started to cry again as she drove home.

Vanessa opened the front door and as she was about to hang up her keys and take off her shoes, her father yelled for her across the house.

“Vanessa!” She got flashbacks to the last time her dad yelled her name. 

“I’m here,” Vanessa muttered.

“Where were you?” He spun into the hallway, still looking a little loopy.

“I went to the gas station,” She explained.

“Why?”

“Because I felt like it.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?” She said nonchalantly. “ I’m trying to cope and get back to normal,” Vanessa said, trying to hold back tears.

“Because you shouldn’t be out so late,” he said. “It’s a school night.” Vanessa made a confused face.

“It’s Friday, Dad,” Vanessa looked at her watch that read 2:03. “Well, I guess it’s Saturday now,” Vanessa said groggily, rubbing one of her eyes after realizing the time. It wasn’t like she could get any rest.

“Stop asking me questions!” Vanessa blurted out as she felt a sudden agitation.

“Go to your room!” Her dad shouted back sloppily.

“You’re still drunk, go sleep or eat something!” Vanessa argued. Her father mumbled some response. He is still drunk. She thought. Out of nowhere her father started stumbling to her, his hand in a fist at his side. What is he doing?

“Go to your room!” He shouted. Vanessa started crying, running to her room to avoid conflict.

Vanessa searched through her messy closet, all her clothes pushed to the sides carelessly. She found her deep-sea blue backpack and a black Nike duffle bag. She knelt down as she put her backpack and duffel bag on either side of her. She started going through the piles of clothes as she occasionally wiped tears from her eyes. She took a few sweatshirts, all dark and loose-fitting. She packed many t-shirts, most light colored and vintage, two pairs of shoes: a pair of dirtied-white Crocs, and a pair of UGG boots that had fur. As well as a couple of blankets and sheets for a pillow. She grabbed around ten pairs of various colored socks and stuffed them into her duffel bag, zipping it closed forcefully. 

She ran around her room looking for anything valuable enough to take. She gripped her phone and shoved it in her pocket. She took anything of importance from her room: her charger, a few books, a lighter, a thick Swiss army knife, and a box cutter. She dumped it all in her backpack. Vanessa grasped her pockets, relieved that she still had her keys and wallet. She looked hurriedly for any money she had around her room. She collected almost sixty bucks in total and put it into her wallet. Vanessa took one last look at her room and took a few mementos as she slipped on the backpack and took her duffle bag. She wiped her face again and turned to her window. She opened the window and jumped out. 

She landed with a thud and looked back to see if her father heard anything. Vanessa sighed and started walking quietly to her car. She opened the back door and threw her duffle bag inside. She slammed the door and looked at her childhood house’s front door. She remembered when she was small, with her mother, they were gardening. She remembered the day vividly, the wind, the grass, the dirt, the worms; her mother’s smile. Vanessa stared at the windows for any sign of movement. Vanessa got in her car and stepped on the gas as soon as she was out of the driveway, headed straight to the gas station.