Easier to Run

EASIER TO RUN

By Silver Rain

Copyright © Silver Rain, 2015

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This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events and locations is entirely coincidental.

Published: Silver Rain
May 4, 2015

United States of America
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Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

Warning:

This book contains mentions of past sexual abuse and triggers associated with that abuse.

When I was five, I met the boy of my dreams. But I didn’t know how powerful dreams were until I was a teenager and had them all ripped away and replaced with nightmares.

Years later, he proved to me that dreams could overcome anything as long as you were brave enough to face the nightmares head on.

There are moments in life when you know you can’t go back and nothing will ever be the same. Sometimes, they replay on slow motion in your head, reminding you of who you once were and how you came to be who you are now.

Sometimes, they eat away at you from the inside, like micro-crystals of poison growing in the back of your mind and seeping into your entire body.

Life can rob you of the things you hold dearest, and no matter how tightly you hold on, it leaves you helpless to watch as caskets are lowered, bridges are burned, and things you once held sacred fade to ashes caught on the wind.

I keep running because there’s no way to get back the things I’ve lost. The people I’ve lost. But there’s still one person who might be worth clinging to. One boy who saved me from my own self-doubt more times than I can fathom. One man who was by my side, his support never faltering, even as life threw the worst at me.

But there’s one big problem.

I haven’t even spoken to him in six years. Life moved on, and I’m terrified to know where it took him. I’m terrified to tell him where it took me.

Now that I’m ready to go back, will there be anything left?

Will he push me away?

Will he even recognize who I am today?

It’s easier to run.

Maybe, just one more time, he’ll let me run away with him.

Cassie watched the house through the break in the backyard fence. It had been more than a year since anyone had lived there, but the family moving in was causing a ruckus. A young boy, at least five years her elder slipped out the sliding glass door onto the back porch and glanced around the yard. Cassie ducked back, but not before he spotted her.

“Hey,” he called, moving closer to the fence and peeking through the same hole she’d been staring through. “My name’s Ben,” he said quietly, but Cassie didn’t respond. She knew better than to talk to strangers—for far more reasons than most five-year-olds.

Her eyes darted to her own back door, and then back to the boy while she chewed on the inside of her lip, debating whether to run or stay. She lowered her head, and her fringe of blonde bangs fell across her face covering her dark brown eyes.

“I’m your new neighbor,” Ben explained. “We just started moving in today—me, my parents, my sisters, and brother.”

His father stepped out on the back porch and stretched up to look over the fence. “Who are you talking to?”

“Neighbor,” Ben said, not taking his eyes off of the young girl for fear she’d run away.

Cassie dropped her head, twisting the tip of her foot into the ground until the screen door on the back of her house slammed closed.

“Come on, Cas,” another young blonde girl—much closer to Ben’s age—bounced down the stairs and ran across the yard. “Everyone’s going to think we’re weird.”

The second girl smiled and waved. “I’m Rachel. She’s Cassie, but she doesn’t really talk.” She stepped in front of the missing fence plank and whispered. “She has this stuttering thing.”

Cassie shoved her older sister, frowning and shaking her head.

“As if stuttering is any worse than just not talking,” Rachel said under her breath. “I’m sure they’d eventually notice anyway.”

“Well, I’m Chuck,” the slightly grey-haired man said. “And this is my son, Ben. Tell your parents we’d like to have you all over for a cookout once we get settled.”

“Sure,” Rachel yelled, skipping back toward the house. When she reached the steps, she turned back. “Come on, Cas.”

Cassie frowned and dropped her head to the side, keeping her eyes toward the young boy even though she didn’t make eye contact.

“Nice to meet you, Cassie,” he said, hoping to get some kind of reaction from her.

She peeked up, gave him a tight smile then charged toward the porch and in the back door.

Cassie

Every day, I waited for my past to strike again. Not the good memories. They were long gone and buried. A faint hope that I held on to when the nightmares came and stole away my sanity. Something that happened far too often. No one could understand why I woke in a terror-induced panic. First, they looked at me with pity. But once I interrupted their sleep too often, it just turned to annoyance.

Every time I thought I regained some smidgen of control over my life, they struck again. They found a new way in and refused to let go.

I shoved the last of my belongings into the back of my car. It was dark out, and even with the light of the cloud-covered moon, I couldn’t really tell what I was doing. Sneaking out in the middle of the night was best left to teenagers, but I was the twenty-one-year-old heartache that my grandparents kept locked away—and on a short leash. I had to steal my own damn keys to my own car. But I was done. It was time to either take my life back or run as far away from it as I could. I hadn’t decided yet.

I knew where my heart pulled me to go. Felt the drawstring closing tightly around it and tugging me back. I wasn’t that brave. I was the quintessential chicken. I’d had too many heartbreaks to dare getting my hopes up. I held the key to the ignition tightly in my hand as the sound of an approaching car turned my blood to ice water.

I had only been back, living with my grandparents, for a month, but it was as tedious as ever. I wasn’t ready for yet another fight. Fighting was particularly sucky given my disadvantage. Half the time, it took me longer to put together a sentence than it did for them to finish their lecture. Every fight was the same,  me trying to stutter my way through a defense, while everyone else rolled merrily onward, reaming me out for whatever stupidity—usually my inability to talk.

It was a low blow that very few people I knew were above.

The car continued past our driveway, and the house behind me remained quiet and dark. I hoped that I was home free. I slid the key in the ignition and prayed for the car to start. Just my luck, it wouldn’t. But as soon as I turned the key, it purred to life without a single objection.

Free. Just this once. Maybe I’m free
.

A light clicked on in the house, and I threw the car into reverse and sped backward down the driveway. Maybe a bit too fast since I cut the turn short and went over the curb. But there wasn’t any stopping me now.

Elaine Bryant ran through the house, searching for Rachel’s missing dance shoes, then skidded to a stop in the middle of the living room when she saw Cassie sitting on the couch in her pajamas. “Cassie Anne Bryant, get dressed.”

“I d-d-don’t want t-to go.”

“Well, Dad had to work, and there aren’t two of me. You can either go to the dance competition with me and Rachel or go next door. I already talked with Chuck and Beth, and they’re fine with you staying over there for the evening.”

Cassie pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. The new neighbors didn’t seem that bad, but there were so many of them. Four kids, two adults. To Cassie that was a crowd. And then, there was Ben—even after four months, she wasn’t sure what she thought about Ben. She was drawn toward him, and yet, with even a glance into those bright green eyes, he set her nerves on high alert, leaving her utterly terrified of turning into a stuttering fool in front of him.

The doorbell rang, and Elaine sighed, pulling open the door to welcome in her neighbor. “Hi, Beth. I’m trying to find Rachel’s dance shoes and this one”—she waved to Cassie—“refuses to change out of her pajamas.”

“She’ll fit right in with my crew then. Sunday night is for pajama pants and jerseys. You like football, Cassie?” Beth asked.

Cassie shrugged and stared down at her hands, nervously picking at her nails. Beyond her family, she didn’t really talk to anyone—and even with her family she resorted to impromptu signing. They let her get away with it because they wanted her to feel more comfortable, and pushing only seemed to make her stuttering worse. She dropped her feet to the floor.

“Come on, Sweetie,” Beth said. “Slip on your shoes and grab your coat. It’s freezing.”

Cassie slid on her boots and coat, then gave her mother a reluctant hug and followed Beth across their driveways and up to the front door. From the front porch, she could already hear the family inside.

Beth pushed open the door, and Ben ran by then, stopped in his tracks. “Hey, Cas.”

“What are you guys up to?” Beth sighed and looked around, wondering where her other missing children had run off to.

“Nuttin,” Ben said.

“Right. Why don’t you take Cassie into the living room and get her something to drink?” Beth pulled off the young girl’s coat and hung it by the door. Then, Cassie kicked off her boots and followed Ben to the living room.

“What do you want to drink?” Ben asked.

Cassie shrugged and glanced around. The only other person in the living room was Ben’s older brother Mark. Eight years separated the oldest of the Murray brothers from the youngest. Mark was already working a part-time job at a local pizza place and reluctantly looking at colleges. Between the two boys, were also two sisters, Jenny and Misty. Neither of whom was very interested in family football nights since they started high school.

“We have root beer, cherry cola, water—of course—orange pop….”

Cassie perked up, but Ben just raised his eyebrows, so she sighed and bit the inside of her lip.

“Water?” Ben asked.

Cassie shook her head.

“All you have to do is tell me,” he shrugged. He’d noticed that she looked up when he mentioned orange pop, but he was determined to get her to say something. Anything.

Cassie huffed and sat down on the couch with her arms crossed.

“Come on, Cassie. It’s not that bad. Just tell me what you want.”

“She’s not going to talk to you,” Mark said, throwing a small rubber ball at his brother. “Stop harassing her.”

“Please,” Ben whispered.

Mark shook his head, stood up, and wandered into the kitchen.

People only begged Cassie to talk so they could make fun of her when she did. And she didn’t trust her mouth not to let her down for even one syllable.

Ben sighed and his shoulders dropped forward. “Okay then, Orange pop it is.”

He returned a few minutes later and handed her a can, keeping one for himself.

Cassie took a deep breath and chomped down on her bottom lip. “T-t-thank you.” She kept her eyes lowered for a second, then looked up to see Ben grinning.

“You’re welcome,” he said and settled back next to her, still wearing a satisfied smile.

Cassie

I yawned and pushed my blanket to the floor of the car. The middle seatbelt of the backseat gouged my side, and I shoved it under the back of the seat. Three weeks. I had been wandering aimlessly for three weeks. Out of Pennsylvania, across Ohio, into Michigan. And I still didn’t have a clue where I was going, but I had dragged myself out of another bad dream just in time to stop my alarm from going off. I stared at the time—four am on a Monday morning—and rubbed my exhausted eyes. I rarely slept more than a few hours at a time, even on occasions when I had a comfy bed and quiet room. It just didn’t happen. In fact, most of the time, those things made it harder to sleep.

I never trusted anything that offered a false sense of security.

I’d been sleeping in the car for most of the last twenty-one days. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have the money saved to make other arrangements. I just didn’t want to deal with people.

People
.

I wanted to be a hermit living in a cabin in the middle of the woods where I never had to think about or deal with people.

I sat up and leaned against the back of the driver’s seat. Closing my eyes again, I let my mind drift back to when life wasn’t so bad. When I had my parents, my sister, my best friend.

Ben
. I dug my fingers into my thighs trying to let the anxiety wash away.

This could be your chance
, I told myself.

I felt sick to my stomach.

Too much. Too much to hope for. He didn’t even know me anymore. I didn’t know him. It had been six years since he’d been the center of my universe. I didn’t have anything left.

I pulled the covers up over me like a tent to replace my yoga pants with a pair of shorts and exchange my t-shirt for a clean one. Every day, I continued my journey without a plan, and yet every day I got closer to where I’d left him.

I stepped out into the quiet parking lot of the rest area and adjusted my clothes before sliding into the driver’s seat and continuing on my way. Within twenty minutes, I was in the center of town. My hometown hadn’t really changed much in six years. Heck, it hadn’t really changed that much since the seventies.

Yet, I wondered if it still remembered me. Me and the irrevocable scar I’d left on the city—how could it forget? How could anyone possibly forget? On the far edge of town, I pulled up to a familiar building. The dispatch station for Remington Trucking.

He’s probably already on the road
, I told myself.

The chances of you randomly showing up while he’s here
….

My stomach was in knots. Turning in on itself and twisting around until I felt like I’d crawl out of my own skin to get away from it.

I climbed out of the car and took a deep breath of the early summer air. The morning was cool and sweet with the smell of wildflowers that bloomed in the field just beyond the truck yard. I wanted to stand by my car and take it in. I wanted to avoid where my feet ached to take me. Could I take another heartbreak?

Or, was I so dead inside that it wouldn’t matter?

I needed to feel something.

I needed him.

What if he didn’t want me anymore?

Ben had never let me down. Never in my life. Not since the very day I saw him through the fence.

I swallowed, but my throat still felt dry. My hands shook so I tucked them in my pocket, my car key fisted in one hand.

Just a glance
, I promised myself. A peek at the person who used to give me the strength to hold my life together.

I snuck around to the back of the building, where all of the trucks and trailers were lined up. That’s when I finally saw him again. Coming out of the back door of the dispatch office for his father’s company. My breath caught in my throat. He was wearing a sleeveless black shirt that showed off his still muscular arms and clung to his tight torso with a pair of dark jeans. It was like stepping through time and seeing him nearly identically to how I remembered him.

It couldn’t be possible.

I felt like a stalker. A crazy person infringing on lives where I no longer belonged. For a moment, I considered sneaking back out the way I’d come. Before it got too bad. Before I jumped off the cliff and could never go back.

I took a deep breath and marched past the stares of the other drivers and workers in the lot. Fifty feet from the bumper of his truck, and all I could see was his back. He reached for the door and turned slightly in my direction. And then he froze, staring at me for a moment before he stepped away from the door.

Eyes wide, he moved in my direction, but I didn’t dare speak. I had no idea what would come out.

“Cassie.” His jaw hung open for a second. “Oh my God, Cassie.”

He didn’t stop coming toward me. I told my feet not to move, but I mentally willed him not to touch me.

It had been so long since someone’s touch didn’t feel like sandpaper gritting just below my skin. But I held my ground and clenched my teeth as his arms came around me and lifted me off of the ground.

My arms found his neck, clamping on without a second thought. I forgot all about my fear of being touched, and suddenly my protesting thoughts turned to pleas for him to never let go.

He sat me gently on my feet, his eyes raking over every inch of me while his hands held tight at my forearms. That simple touch now seemed like the only thing holding me together—a dam keeping the past at bay.

“I-I was af-raid you w-wouldn’t want to s-see me.” I tried to calm down and regain my ability to speak, but my “good days” were long gone.

He kissed my forehead. “Never happen, Cas. How have you been?”

I shrugged, and his face twisted in a gentle admonishment. He never let me get away with silent gestures and signing, even when I dreaded what might come out of my mouth. Over the years, his stubborn pushing forced down my walls and eased my anxiety. But now, I dreaded talking more than ever. I dreaded the disappointment I’d see when I could barely stutter through a simple phrase let alone a sentence. My gut was twisted and tied up in knots that tightened every muscle in my body and set my nerves to a furious burn.

“We’re not going back to that, are we?” he asked.

“S-six years,” I stuttered again.

Even for him the flash of disappointment in my regression was evident, but then he smiled gently. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Six years…. I missed you. Spent a lot of time wondering how you were doing.”

“I survived,” I spoke slowly and managed to avoid any horrible stutters. Even the small accomplishments could be a minor boost to my confidence. “N-new truck?”

Damn it
.

“Same old.” He smiled looking up at it. “I had some upgrades, and we had a rebranding of the company a few years back, so it was painted to fit the new look.”

“Looks good.” I tried avoiding his stare by looking at all of the shiny bits of chrome on the truck, but I could feel his gaze eating me alive.

The tall blue and white semi towered over us. His home away from home. I envied it almost as much as I envied his ability to speak so easily. He’d started driving for his dad’s company as soon as he graduated, and on breaks from school, I always begged him to take me with him. I loved the feeling of being on the road. Free. Safe. All of his trips were in-state then, and we were always back on the same day. After he had turned twenty-one, he upgraded to the sleeper cab—his father’s old truck. I’d only been inside it a few times, but I could still see it in my memory, and even smell the freshly laundered blankets in the back.

I had been terrified that his job would finally take him away from me, and begged him to take me on his first overnight run. It was only one night, the week before I was due to go back to school. It was supposed to be my final escape from the nightmares that waited for me at home with my sister and her husband, Mitchel. While I waited for him to finish so we could check into a hotel, I curled up on the small bed in the sleeper compartment and wrote all of my biggest secrets into a letter. I couldn’t give it to him, so I hid it in the back, behind a piece of plastic at the foot of the bed. I wondered if it was still there. If he’d ever discovered my hiding place.