You can't do it anymore.
You're small and tired and you want
to run away. When your mother is
distracted by the man, you run into
your room and quickly gather some
of your stuff. Your backpack.
the mysterious box. Your stuffed cat.
You don't even know where to go,
but your instincts tell you to run
first and make a plan later.
you look at your mother from your
end of the hallway. She glances
your way but doesn't seem to
notice you.
you hear her yelling 'Hey!'
by the time you're already down
a flight of stairs. There's no
footsteps behind you, not yet,
at least. You run all the way
down and slam the door behind
you.