“Lord, please just let me make it home.”
Chyna chants as she hangs the curves of the interstate.
She fights to holds her eyes open. She is reviewing rules and regulations of driving in her head, to confirm that although she is inebriated, she is still very much coherent.
Chyna, now shaking her legs as she realizes the nearer she gets to the house, the more her urge grows to pee.
She skids into the driveway and parks recklessly. With cup and Prada bag in one hand, keys in the other, she races up to the door. In fear of peeing her pants, she opens the door and drops everything a few steps in. Barely making it to the bathroom door, she starts to feel the warmth running down her leg...
“Fuggit.” She sighs in relief just to be home.
Chyna makes it to her bed, flops down with clothes still on, and passes out.
She reflects on her past in a dream…
“Go warm ya bruvah up something to eat and bring me a beer back,” said Jake with his normal scheming look.
Chyna went into the bright yet dull country kitchen filled with so much needful clutter. She made her way to the stove, and then to the microwave.
While the food was heating up for the 4-year old brother, Chyna went towards the back of the house to check on the other siblings. They appeared to be jumping on the bed quietly while making silent jokes, as they knew not to be too loud and upset Jake. Normally, if he heard sounds of excitement, he would always replace it with the opposite of fun.
Exposed was Chyna’s youth for about 10 seconds as she tried to engage in the fun the other kids were having.
“Owwwwwww!” came from the kitchen, followed by an enormous cry. All the kids immediately wiped the fun off their faces. Chyna was terrified. What was that? Why is there noise breaking our fun? How pissed off is Jake that he was disturbed from his everyday 40-ounce ritual?
By the time Chyna made her way to the kitchen, she was forced back into the long and old-wooded hallway. Jake was smacking her, punching her, scolding her. Badly.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.” She cried repeatedly. Jake beat her all the way down the hallway, back into the room with the other kids. The other kids grabbed each other in fear and watched in utter disbelief.
“You kids, get outta here. Chyna, you are on punishment. Why did you give that baby that hot food, knowing that it was too hot?”
Chyna’s face filled with question. What is he talking about? Why would I purposely burn my baby brother with food?
“Don’t turn these lights back on. And do not come out of this room for anything! You hear me?”
“Yes sir,” she whispered.
Chyna stayed in the cold and dark room, trying to figure out how to escape. This time for good. Chyna had run away from her mother’s home several times before, but her mother would always find her and bring her back. Chyna waited until her stepfather left to go pick up her mother from work.
She packed a duffle bag full of clothes and attempted to leave out the window when she realized she had nowhere to go. She ran into the kitchen and picked up the phone to call her cousin to meet her half way.
No dial tone.
Jake had unplugged the phone suspecting that Chyna would try to use it after he left. With no time to waste, Chyna darted out the back door, jumped the fence and hauled ass down the street. She did not know where to go but away. She ran until the streetlights became brighter and brighter. She was met suddenly by headlights coming from the opposite direction.
Her heart was racing and pounding. Did her stepfather see her?
Just as the car was approaching Chyna….
She woke up.