The Escape

Ages 15-19
The purpose of this piece is to show the difficulty that some teenagers have to face in everyday life.

Noah raised his finger to the bottom of his piercing blue eye and wiped away the single tear that had managed to stream down his perfectly sculpted cheek. His right arm, still in unbearable pain from the attack, clung to the side of his body and wrapped itself around his torso. The less motion the better, he thought. Another tear slowly fell down his face as images of his father’s hand colliding with his body entered his mind. The only thing Noah was happy about at this moment was that his father wasn’t there to see him; to see how weak and fragile his seventeen year old son was.

It had been an hour since the fight and he could still hear the faint echoes of his mother and little sister’s screams as he increased his pace. The magnificent lights of downtown were something he didn’t want to see, not when he felt like crawling under a rock and spending the rest of his life as a hermit. His seventeen years of sheer torture had proved his theory correct that people were worthless. He would much rather spend his life alone, fending for himself and being in control. His only regret was leaving his sister behind, but he knew she would be safe. They had always liked her more anyway. He flexed his right arm only to feel pain envelope him.

Noah looked from side to side at the countless people lying on the pavement. Each one of them perking up in excitement when he passed, hoping for some change. He had nothing to offer. The pockets of his jeans had been empty for the past two years with the help of his father’s controlling ways. Maybe he thought Noah would do exactly what he was doing now; run away. God forbid his father didn’t have someone to boss around and use as a punching bag when the liquor cabinet was empty. Noah ran a shaky hand through his dishevelled dark brown hair only to feel the formation of a bump on his skull from when he was tossed against the wall.

The lights seemed to be growing brighter as he continued into the depths of downtown Toronto. Passing police cruisers and car alarms made him more alert that he was abandoning the safety of his home- if it was considered safety- and entering the real world. The world where people died from hunger and prostitutes sold their bodies for money, just to earn enough for shelter. Where underground deals were made between drug dealers and kids like him had nowhere to go except try and survive in a cardboard box near a dumpster. But he didn’t care. In his mind, anywhere was better than his previous home. Just then, a building caught his eye. This building was different than the others; it didn’t have luminescent signs on the roof or posters plastered on the sides. He slowed to a stop, making the cold wind around him more noticeable as it bounced off his porcelain skin. He placed a hand on the brick wall to keep a steady position then looked up at the sign which read: Covenant House. Inside were kids his age, all looking happy; and emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He reached out to grab the handle, but stopped before he could open the door. Doubt and disbelief rushed through him in a wave of emotion. This was too good to be true, he thought. What if this wasn’t the place for him? Then he would surely be set up with some sort of foster agency. That wasn’t what he wanted. He pondered the decision for a moment; weighing the pros and cons. Finally, he tightened his grip on the metal handle and pulled open the door. The heat of the building immediately warmed him as he stepped inside, ready to begin a new chapter in his life.