The first few minutes weren't the worst.
I was angry.
Anger gave me something to concentrate on besides the cold.
I kept thinking about the bottle.
About Karen's fingers covering its label.
About the way Dad had looked at me.
I wanted to understand why nobody had questioned anything.
I wanted to understand why my own sister had stood there and allowed him to believe I was guilty.
But those questions had no answers.
Not then.
I concentrated on the road.
My closest friend lived several miles away.
I didn't know exactly how long it would take to reach her house, especially in the weather.
Still, I believed I could get there.
I had walked outside before.
I knew how to follow a road.
I wasn't expecting the rain to become such a serious problem.
It seemed manageable at first.
Just an uncomfortable walk.
A miserable evening.
Something I would tell my friend about once I reached her house.
Then the water began soaking through my clothes.
My sweatshirt became heavy.
The fabric clung to my arms and back.
I pulled my sleeves down over my hands.
It didn't help.
The rain found its way through everything.
My jeans were wet.
My sneakers were worse.
Every step made me more aware of the cold water inside them.
I kept walking.
Sometimes I heard vehicles approaching from behind.
Whenever headlights appeared, I turned around.
For one foolish second, I hoped it might be Dad.
I imagined him pulling over.
I imagined him telling me to get into the car.
He wouldn't even need to apologize immediately.
I would have been happy just to get warm.
But the vehicles passed.
Their lights disappeared down the road.
Nobody stopped.
I continued alone.
The countryside looked different in the darkness.
There were fields on either side.
Trees stood beyond the roadside.
There were no nearby businesses where I could ask to use a telephone.
No open places where I could wait out the storm.
Just the road.
And the rain.
After a while, I started thinking about my phone.
It was still upstairs.
I remembered exactly where I had left it.
I could picture it sitting inside the house.
That thought made me angry again.
If I had my phone, I could call my friend.
I could call someone else.
I could explain that I needed help.
Instead, I had a school bag with an unfinished algebra worksheet.
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
I had remembered my homework.
I hadn't remembered anything that could keep me warm.
But laughing required energy I didn't have.
So I kept walking.
The road stretched ahead.
I tried not to think about how far I still had to go.
I watched the ground in front of my shoes.
One step.
Then another.
The rain kept striking my face.
Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the fields.
I pulled my arms against my chest.
My fingers were getting stiff.
I tried moving them.
At first, I could still feel them.
Then the feeling became dull.
I tucked my hands beneath my arms and continued.
I had no idea how much time had passed.
Without my phone, I couldn't check.
I couldn't even tell whether I had been walking for twenty minutes or much longer.
The only thing I knew was that I wasn't home.
And I wasn't getting any warmer.
After what felt like a long time, I realized I had gone quite a distance.
I thought about the first mile.
Then the second.
I wasn't certain of the exact distance.
I only knew I had been walking long enough for the anger to disappear.
Something else had replaced it.
Fear.
I tried to ignore that feeling.
My friend would be waiting.
Someone would help.
I just had to keep going.
But my thoughts were becoming difficult to hold together.
I looked at the roadside.
The signs seemed unfamiliar.
I couldn't remember passing some of them.
I tried to work out where I was.
Nothing made sense.
I had lived in the same area for years.
I should have recognized the surroundings.
Yet everything seemed strangely distant.
I looked toward the trees.
For a moment, I thought I could see a light.
A warm yellow light.
It reminded me of our kitchen.
I imagined standing inside.
I imagined the smell of Dad's coffee.
I could almost picture the familiar room.
The thought was comforting.
Then I blinked.
The light wasn't there.
There was only darkness and rain.
I kept walking.
My legs felt strange.
They weren't moving as easily as before.
My knees trembled whenever I put weight on them.
I tried taking deeper breaths.
That didn't make me feel better.
I thought about stopping for a moment.
Just long enough to rest.
But I was afraid that if I stopped, I wouldn't want to start again.
So I continued.
The school bag kept slipping against my shoulder.
I adjusted it.
The unfinished algebra worksheet was still inside.
I wondered why I had brought it.
I wondered why I hadn't been allowed to take my coat.
Then I remembered the orange bottle.
Karen's face.
The way she had looked away.
I felt tears on my cheeks, although I couldn't tell whether they were from crying or the rain.
I had done nothing wrong.
I wanted someone to believe that.
I wanted someone to ask me what had happened instead of deciding everything without listening.
I wanted to be home.
But the house was miles behind me.
And I was getting weaker.
The rain continued falling.
I looked down at my hands.
They didn't seem to belong to me anymore.
I tried rubbing them together.
My fingers barely responded.
I tucked them beneath my arms again.
Then I noticed something that frightened me more than the numbness.
I wasn't shaking as much.
Earlier, my entire body had trembled.
Now the cold seemed strangely far away.
I knew I should have been worried.
Some part of me understood that something was seriously wrong.
But I couldn't organize my thoughts long enough to figure out what to do.
I looked at the road.
It seemed longer than before.
I told myself to keep moving.
Just a little farther.
Just until I found somewhere safe.
I didn't know that I was approaching the point where my body would no longer listen to me.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: My Father Thought I Would Eventually Come Home, Until an Officer Asked Two Questions He Could No Longer Avoid
The Orange Bottle My Sister Held Was Enough to Make My Father Forget Everything He Had Ever Promised Me
Part 3 of 20
