Jail Break {Short Story}

[Lacey]

(Had to do this for my Reading class, it's a'ight.)

I was completely irritated about my mother deeming that my adventures were far too dangerous. I doubted that there was a revocation of her word. When I tried to plead my case she simply ignored it. I could easily see that she thought it was a petty little opinion and that it didn't matter to her in the least bit, but it mattered to me. She said that I had such a sense of ingratitude and that I should acquit myself, to act like a good little girl and go up to my room and play with the dozens of dolls that she bought for me. I never played with them because they never appealed to me. I didn't know why, but they didn't. Was it considered normal for someone of my age to like those things? Was I just the odd one? The only curly french fry in an order of plain ones? I supposed that I was. At school I generated a lot of talk because I was indifferent.

If you knew me, you would know that I wasn't very interested in girly things like that. My mom just couldn't accept that I wasn't that type of gal, wanting me to stop my pleasant reveries about going out and exploring the world. I wanted to travel to different places and find many new things, hopefully discover a new type of elusive animal. I wanted to be like one of those great explorers that I idolized, the ones that have their names written down in history books around the world. I wanted to leave my signature somewhere, somehow on Earth before I had to leave it. You could say it was on my bucket list. It was my goal to make myself known for something good before I died. There was always a strife when it came to the ideals of my mother and I. We both wanted something completely different for my future.

Doing as I was told, I stormed up to my room and slammed the door as I discredited my mom mentally. Yet, as I looked at the various keepsakes I had collected I from my various ventures, I realized that maybe I was a little reckless when it came to my trips. Maybe it was the reason for the plight of my jeans. Looking down, I saw the knee part of them were worn out and had rips in them. Strands of fabric were loosely hanging from the denim. This was one of my best pairs too. A shame, isn't it? I really devastated them. My mom said that one day I would repent for letting them suffer through such abuse. One day she would stop buying me so many new pairs every month. One day I would just have to use my pajamas, or cough up some cash to pay for myself. Who knows where I would get that.

Being me, I hated being told what to do. I disliked it with a heat of a thousand suns. I just despised being restricted in any way. In fact, it compelled me to do the exact opposite of what someone told me not to do. Therefore, I had the urge to go out even though my mother forbidden me. The question was, how would I escape to sweet, sweet freedom? Using the front door would be... Stupid, to say the least. I wanted to be sneaky, not be grounded for all of eternity. Then again, she couldn’t ground me forever. I was a mere mortal, and I would eventually become deceased. That or I could wait until I was eighteen and use the whole “I’m an adult and you have no jurisdiction over me” line.

After a while of debating on what exit was best, I decided to use the window despite the fact that my room is on the second floor and I wasn’t too good with heights. Oh the irony, I was an adventurer who had acrophobia. I was still working on that, however. I had gotten better over the years, but at this point in my life I was scared senseless over enormous heights. At this elevation I wasn’t too frightened, but I wasn’t exactly the most confident about scaling the side of my white house.

Grabbing the extra rope I had under my pillow, I tied it to the foot of my bed. Don’t ask why I had a rope under there. I have no idea how that rope served me any purpose whatsoever in the place now that I look back. Anyway, my bed was very sturdy and featured a solid wood frame. I also piled on a bunch of my father’s large textbooks that he brought home from the university on top of my sheets. He’s a professor at the local college, a science one to be specific. He’s always carrying these huge texts filled with complicated junk about biology and all of that. Even with a person of my IQ, I had doubted that I could fully understand what was printed in there.

I began scuffling out the window and descending downwards. I hoped no one had seen me. Mother was probably fuming out in her room, reading one of her extremely sappy novels from her collection as she attempted to calm herself down. Apparently I raised her blood pressure or something like that. Dad was out at the university, grading the piles of papers that his students submitted every week. My older brother was out somewhere, I think he was at his friend’s house, and my little sister was three at the time and taking a nap in her room.

Despite the fact that I knew almost exactly what everyone was doing at the moment, I still scanned my surroundings to see if I had anybody watching me. My little sister was quite the creeper. She loved to stalk people, especially little old me. She loved getting me in trouble, loved that I was the least favorite of the three and that mom always blamed me for everything. She was a mischievous little demon. I said I hated her, and most of the time I wanted to wring her head or squeeze it like a zit until it popped, but deep down on the inside I loved her.

Almost toppling over as I was halfway down my climb, I regained my balance. Soon after I was on the ground and I stuck the landing. I thought I deserved a standing ovation for that, seeing that I was naturally clumsy in nature. I was finally on the ground and boy was I loving it. The ground was the best place on Earth. Not in the air, not in the sky, not in space, but on solid land.

I was doing pretty well after I made my way into the forest where I found the place I was exploring, a very dark mine that was made forever ago. I did pretty well the whole night, actually. My problem reared its ugly head in the morning though, when my mother started scolding me about sneaking out. It turns out that my shoes were muddy when I was scaling down and I left foot prints all over the side of my abode. I had a lot of cleaning to do that afternoon, washing the sides of our dwelling and doing all of the extra chores I had piled up from my last grounding and my current grounding. What a sad way to end a story.