Long Way Home
by Martha c. Arvizu
Annie's heels clicked on the cold, wet concrete as she ran as fast as she could in the cold rain. It was four o'clock on a Friday afternoon. She rushed through the reckless traffic running red lights, only looking forward with her destination on her mind. Her wet, tight, red, cotton dress on her toned body was enough to catch the attention of those driving towards her to stop. She didn't look over; she didn't look back. The years of her youth that life had swallowed forever she will never get back. The sweat that swept through her skin could not detoxify her from her sins. Her mind was racing as she pushed through the crowds. She didn't hear people or noise. She didn't notice the lustful or hateful stares. She was immune to the looks of people, and immune to the sound of their senseless chatter. She left it behind with her seductive scent. All she could hear was the sound of her stilettos clicking away from it all as fast as she could. As she got to the edge of downtown, she had nowhere to run anymore -- nowhere to head but the highway. Discouraged by the road blocks and out of breath, she glided down the brick wall and sat there in despair thinking of her life-or death of it. That was what her life had become. Dead. She had been a walking zombie molded by surroundings that she had chosen, thinking it was all a fun game until became trapped in a never-ending cycle of misery. As she caught her breath, a schoolbus pulled up to the side of the block bringing her memories of her mother. They used to ride together after school, after she had dropped off all the children. She remembered when April came around, they would stop and get popsicles before she finished her route and then head home with strawberry colored lips. How she loved those strawberry lips. But the color on her lips, now bland and dry, was crackling away. Annie watched the bus driver happily leave his bus and walk across the street to the hot dog stand to his early dinner. The engine was on. Without another thought, she jumped on the bus and closed the doors. The driver turned back, but it was too late. He watched as the lady in red pushed the pedal at its best speed. She knew the consequences. As she drove onto the highway, she could gradually hear the sound of the cops approaching. "Pull over! You are under arrest!" She had been under way worse than that. She drove faster. She drove for two hours before she finally pulled out on Exit 253, a familiar exit. It made her feel peaceful even in the chaos. The normally quiet farmlands were invaded by the sound of helicopters and sirens. She approached the center of the small town, relieved when she finally turned the corner and ran over a curb to land on the green grass of her childhood church, missing the wall by an inch. She ran out of the bus and into the church, locking the doors behind her. Almost at her last breath, she ran to the altar and dropped to her knees. Dripping water from her dress, tears from her face, and remorse from her soul, she looked up to see her priest. "Father." He stared at her face smeared with black eyeliner and shimmery shadows but only saw her baby blue eyes. "You have finally made it back home my dear. Welcome." Martha C. Arvizu |