I was often
in trouble as a kid. I just never
understood why things had to be how they were. Why was it that old people were
always listened to more than kids? We
had opinions too. But it was also
largely due to the fact that I had a really bad temper. Once we had some family friends visiting, I
think I must have been about seven at the time.
Mum and Dad had gone down the farm to do some work, I think Mark, the
dad of the other family, must have gone with them, because we kids were playing
Duplo with only the supervision of their mum, Sonya.
This
argument, I am fairly confident was my fault.
David, their boy my age, took out one of the people of the Duplo box and
said he was going to be it. I went to
take it from him, claiming that it was my favourite and that therefore I would
play with it. And so the argument
ensued. Sonya swept in, to the aid of
David, declaring that he would play with it.
And suddenly I was taken by fury.
It was not her argument, why did she have to step in? Surely she was only supporting David because
he was her son, so she liked him more than me.
But, in my pent up rage, I was unable to express myself and settled for
yelling incoherently and hitting blindly.
Sonya was a big woman, there was no chance that I would hurt her, or
that I would be able to win against her.
She carried me to the bathroom and shut the door. None of our doors inside the house had locks,
especially not from the outside. She
stood by the door and held it shut while I threw myself against it repeatedly,
shouting strange noises and pulling at the unmoving handle.
Finally I
stepped back from the door to think. I was clearly not going to be able to escape
by that means. I was still puffing
heavily, tears falling from my anger at the injustice as well as from all the
screaming, and pushing and pulling on the door.
I glanced around: I was trapped.
What was I going to do? Then I sighted
upon the window. It was a sliding window
that had no fly-screen – I could escape after all! I removed all of the bottles of shampoo,
conditioner, including the novelty Barbie
ones my sister and I had, and all other lotions and potions from the window
sill and left them on the far side of the sink.
Sliding the window open, I climbed up onto the sink and out the
window. I found myself in the carport
between the old, metallic blue Statesman and a pile of boxes that were against
the window. But most importantly: I was
free. The feeling of success was quickly
quenched by a new fear: I couldn’t get caught.
So, after quickly assessing all my options for concealment, I ran, trying
to keep low to avoid being seen while I crossed the fifteen metres of bare backyard
to the sheds. But instead of entering
them, something that I deemed too obvious, I went behind them. The sheds backed up onto our back fence, but
there was a gap of about forty centimetres between the back of the corrugated
iron shed and the barb-wire fence. I
gave myself a few minutes of waiting to see if they had seen me before I would
allow myself to enjoy my success. I
began to fret, I shouldn’t have left the bottles like that; I should have tried
to conceal my escape. But the minutes
passed, no one came. I was safe. They would never find me here. The more comfortable I became with my escape,
the more I allowed myself to look at my surroundings. Although it may have been the most obscure
hiding place I could find, it certainly wasn’t the most welcoming. There was corrugated iron lying in a pile,
old tyres, and things of the sort.
Nothing that would allow me a seat, and I was a bit nervous of the
sheets of iron as I knew snakes would like such a home. But there I stayed. I had won, and I had to make sure that they
knew that.
But
eventually, I never was sure how long I was behind that shed exactly; I grew
tired of my victory, especially since I couldn’t be sure that they knew I had
won, which was the important thing. I hadn’t heard them calling for me or
anything. Did they even know that I was
gone? That would be the most insulting
of all, to have made this grand escape only to find out later that no one had
known that I was gone. They never did
find my secret hiding place. I abandoned
it to see if I could find out what was going on. For the second time I ran across the
backyard, doubled over like I had seen on TV.
I had decided that I would go along the side of the house, along the
carport, where I was the least likely to be seen. Despite my anxieties that someone would shout
out, “There she is!” as I crossed the open space, my concerns proved to be
completely unmerited. Once again I had
gone unseen. Now I was safely squatting
back beside the Statesman. Carefully I listened
for any inside noises, any commotion that indicated disequilibrium, worry about
where I was. I found myself sneaking
along, bent over beside the cars parked in the carport. I had gone the length of the Statesman and
was beside the Commodore when I heard the click
of the clip on the farm gate. Mum and
Dad were coming. I could see them
now. I was safe. It didn’t matter if I was seen now. I ran over to them, across the road, to tell
them of all the atrocities that had passed me.
I knew that I would have to tell them before Sonya poisoned their brains
with the fight being my fault, which was completely beside the point. When we made it to the house Sonya claimed
that she had been worried about me, thinking that I may have fallen from the
window and broken an arm. I could never
truly believe that my captor was concerned for my safety.
