Seventeen Steps to Freedom

Voices screaming so loud they could be heard clear at the end of the block. Doors slamming hard enough that the hinges rattle and squeal in protest. Boots stomping against hardwood floors with enough force one would expect the walnut boards to splinter.

Such pandemonium had become the soundtrack of Aspen’s daily life. Not a single day was spent in serenity or comfort. Anxiety clawed through her chest like a parasite, keeping her eternally tethered to the edge of unease. It had become her baseline mental state, never being granted a single moment of reprieve, constantly waiting in fear for the adults charged with the task of keeping her alive to fabricate another reason to berate each other.

When the clamor started up again, Aspen yanked open the door of her closet. Tucked into one corner was an old suitcase, enveloped in dust and tarnished from years of neglect. One hand pried it from its hiding place and threw it onto her bed before while the other clutched as many hangers as it could hold and lifted them from the wardrobe rod.

She didn’t have the time - or the enthusiasm - to be sentimental with her belongings. Now was the time she’d been waiting for, to pack as much as she could fit into one suitcase and finally live life on her terms. She was a month away from turning eighteen, and she’d been planning her absconding for nearly a year. Every detail had been mapped out in her head (the only safe place to do so), just waiting as patiently as she could for the perfect moment to present itself.

Having grown up on the ritzy side of town, where the cost of one house could fund an entire school, Aspen knew that her parents would never set foot across the train tracks that separated their neighborhood from the lower class. Everyone in the gated community turned up their noses at the mere thought of public schools, twenty-four-hour diners, and welfare assistance. They naturally assumed that their daughter would grow to become just as pompous.

Well, you know what they say about assumptions.

With her clothes haphazardly folded and shoved aggressively into the suitcase, Aspen moved onto other belongings. There wasn’t much space left, so she supposed it was a good thing that she hardly owned anything that held personal value. A couple of polaroid photos from her younger years, back when she was allowed to have fun and wasn’t ostracized for being honest, sat safely inside the drawer of her nightstand. She fished them out, along with a friendship bracelet displaying the words “never give up” that had been given to her long ago by the only person that ever believed her confessions about the toxicity of her situation.

She couldn’t risk venturing down the hallway to the bathroom to fetch her toiletries, so she would have to settle for buying some new ones after she made it a safe distance away from her parents’ estate. With that thought in mind, she picked up the very heavy, very expensive jewelry box that sat atop her dresser, full of twenty-four-karat gold jewelry that had never been worn.

She’d already mapped out exactly where the pawn shop sat on the other side of the tracks.

Having stuffed everything she could fit into the suitcase, she held the lid down and zipped it closed. Creeping across the floor, each step perfectly calculated so as not to prevent the floorboards from creaking, she pressed herself against the door and listened intently to the muffled sounds rising from downstairs. The pop of a wine cork informed Aspen that her mother was ready to drown her emotions in a bottle of wine whose price tag rivaled a new car, while the telltale purr of her father’s Rolls-Royce coming to life meant that he’d be spending the rest of the day verbally abusing caddies at the country club.

Now was her chance.

Stepping away from the door with practiced silence, she sat on her bed and pulled her combat boots out from beneath it. She’d kept them hidden there, along with her favorite hoodie and knit beanie, so that they couldn’t be thrown away if her mother found them in her closet - she’d never allow such distasteful apparel in her miniature mansion.

Aspen laced up her boots and pulled on the hoodie, tied her platinum locks into a low ponytail, and slid the beanie over her head. Her house keys were stuffed into the pocket of her jeans, along with her cell phone and wallet.

Crossing the room, she approached her window, unlatching it and sliding it open with practiced ease. She’d run simulation drills to perfect her escape in preparation for the day she finally managed to execute it.

Just below her window was a tall wooden trellis, sprinkled elegantly with roses. She’d watched the landscaper install it herself, so she knew it was sturdy enough to handle her descent from the second floor, even with a full suitcase clutched in one hand.

This was it. This was her moment. It was now or never.

With a deep inhale, she swung one leg over the windowsill, sitting on it for a moment while she found her footing against the top of the trellis. Once she was fully outside, she carefully closed the window so that her escape route wouldn’t be obvious when her parents finally decided she’d been in her bedroom for too long.

If she followed her plan to the letter, she’d be long gone by then.

With slow, cautious steps, she made her way down the trellis, one hand clutching the wood while the other held onto her single case of belongings. She took care to step quietly onto the freshly-mowed grass beneath her, not wanting to risk any unnecessary noise. Glancing around, she found that all of their neighbors were inside their own homes, leaving her free to continue on with her business.

Turning towards the back of her house, she crept through the shrubbery and foliage. Her house sat toward the end of the neighborhood that led to the train tracks, so neither her parents nor any of their neighbors ever ventured there. Her parents had only kept up with the landscaping in the back yard for status, and because the homeowner’s association required them to; they’d never be caught dead actually utilizing the acreage given its view of lesser communities.

Despite her suitcase having wheels that would make it much less cumbersome to lug around, Aspen couldn’t risk the plastic scraping against gravel drawing anyone’s attention. She carried it via the side handle, held possessively to her side, while she ventured out of the rich part of town. The train tracks were easy to access, having been visible from her backyard as soon as she’d turned towards it. Her wide eyes darted left and right as she trekked, ever cautious and desperate to make her plan a success.

She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if her parents caught her before she made it across the tracks.

Relief crept ever so slowly up her abdomen, clutching at her heartstrings as she drew close enough to smell the trees that separated her world from everyone else. Her thick-soled combat boots thumped against the thick wooden tracks as she took the first steps into her new life.