Golm

Golm - Chapter 1

Golm

By: Brad Weaver


Chapter 1

I ran. I ran as fast as I could, because they were gaining on me. The hypnotic pounding of my exhausted feet on the sidewalk, were increasingly being drowned out by the roar of an engine and the squeal of its tires. I had tried to run away from home again and my foster parents were about to catch me. I was running down a sidewalk along Main Street. My foster parents, John and Fiona Macdonald were driving their station wagon. Luckily the traffic was bad and they were slowed down occasionally, but when they did move they moved much faster than I. I ached; I had been running for half an hour and I couldn’t run much longer. I just knew they were going to catch me sometime, but I didn’t want it to be today.
As I passed a barbershop at the end of the block, I noticed an alley on the other side. I turned down the alley. They were a block and a turn behind me, so when John and Fiona passed without seeing me, I felt a sign of relief. I caught my breath finally and I tied my shoe.
My name is Herridan. I am a 17 year old male. I am also adopted. I have never seen my real parents. I’ve been living with my oppressive foster parents all my life. I hate them, and they hate me. I try to run away from them, but they hunt me down like a dog. This is my 14th attempt to escape them. As much as they hate me, it seems they waste no time in recapturing me. Although I’ve managed to live 6 weeks alone, traveling the streets, I hope those weeks won’t end right now.
My foster parents and I really detest each other. I must obey their strict orders or else I’m beaten. I often lip them, insult them, disobey them or hit them straight to their faces, however they are happy to do the same back. They won’t let me go to college, they rather me stay and work at John’s antique store. I don’t want to go to college really, but I also don’t want to spend another second with them either. I do go to high school, but when I run away, I don’t go to school, so I guess I wouldn’t be able to go to college anyway with my limited education.
John and Fiona said they knew my real parents, but I doubt that’s true. They probably say that just to sound like they’re more linked with my family, making them seem to be the correct choice of foster parents. They say my parents were murdered by a serial killer a few weeks after I was born, that I also think is a lie. I would frequently ask about my real parents’ origin and they would always just trail off to another topic or sometimes beat me and ordered me never to speak of them again. I did manage to get the information that John and Fiona lived in the ghetto on the same block as them. They knew them pretty well, but the fact they wouldn’t talk about it was odd. Their suspicious actions have questioned me for ages, but I don’t think I’ll ever find out from them.
I sat down for a second and thought about were to go next. A wall blocked the alley, so I couldn’t proceed any farther, I could only leave through the way I came. I then saw a fire escape up the alley a little bit. I got up, walked over to it and started to climb the ladder. After I got to the first staircase I heard, “There he is! He’s on that fire escape!” It was Fiona; she and John saw me.
I burst out in fear as John raced across the street to get to the ladder. Unlucky for me, John was a very athletic man and since I was already tired, I was in deep trouble.
I was on the third staircase when John was going up the first ladder. The crashing and banging of our feet on the staircases were as loud and as fast as my heart beating.
“Herridan!” he shouted, “Get your ass back here right now!”
I couldn’t reply; I was climbing the ladder to the roof.
“Herridan! Herridan!” He kept shouting as if he knew each time he said it, I became weaker.
By now he was also on the roof. I ran, closing in on the edge of the building. John was gaining fast; too fast! He was grabbing at my T-shirt. The edge was within 10m and the next building was lower and the gap between them was only a meter. “I could jump,” I thought, “I could jump to the next building and maybe John would miss, fall and die.” As the small little ridge enclosed on me, I braced my jump and just as I was about to lift off the ground, John had got my neck.
He threw me to the ground and knelt beside me. As the fire appeared in his dark eyes amongst his dark hair, I knew this is the last time I’d survive his beating. “Herridan,” His voice boomed, “You will never, never do that again! Do you understand me you little shit!”
I spoke, “Suck it John.”
He slapped me across the face. “You will never leave our house again Herridan!” He grabbed my collar and lifted me to his crunched face. “Do you hear me!”
I reply with, “Yeah I hear you, but do I care? No!” Again John slaps me. I put on a mean face as well, and then toyed with him, “Look at you! Slapping your son. What a good friggin’ father I have.”
John raised his fist and threatened. “I won’t slap you then! I’ll punch you!” He punched my nose and then my lip; both started to bleed soon after.
I sighed, then I surrendered. “John, I’ll go quietly. I’ve learned my lesson.”
John grinned and then hit me 3 more times in the face, then said, “Smart move you little shit.”
I was in the car 10 minutes later, and John and Fiona were up in front, I obviously was in the back. As I tried to gauze my nose, lip and eye, I couldn’t help but notice John’s happy face in the rearview mirror. He still looked livid and was feral enough to eat someone’s ear, but he had a little smirk, a smirk I didn’t like the look of. I wanted to ask why he was grinning, but I couldn’t talk unless I was spoken to, plus, I was in no position to be asking meaningless questions. I looked out the window; my mind went blank as images of people went by. They were free, they had families and I didn’t. Even if their parents did beat them, even if the children did runaway, they would always hook back together and love each other. I didn’t even get the amount of happiness of finding their runaway dog from John and Fiona. I don’t think they even feel like I was a returned possession; I must feel like a chore, not even a dutiful chore, but one where you argue for hours to avoid. That was the love I had, none. Out of the hundreds of people that we passed on the streets, why was I, the most hated?
“Herridan,” said Fiona. “I know we have our differences, but you must not run away like that. You have a criminal record, if you run away and get in any trouble, you’d be put in jail.”
I reply with, “Well maybe. But if you didn’t treat me like beer bottles, then maybe the thought of running away won’t come across my mind.”
John yells, “Watch your tone young man. And yes Fiona makes a good point; you do have a criminal record, do you?” He stalled. He thought for a second, but then asked me, “What’s on it any way?”
I answer, “Why should I tell you? You ought to know or maybe you were too stoned to remember?”
John got angry; I eventually explained my criminal record. $1200 in vandalism, selling a total of $5000 in illegal narcotics, 2 accounts of grand theft auto and 1 armed robbery. Yes, I was the little criminal, but who can blame me? Half the time it was John’s fault and I get charged for it. Or it is Fiona that asks me to buy her some weed or something.
We pulled up to our house after a long drive. The driveway was dirt and lead to our brown grassed lawn. A thin dirt path lead to our house. Half-dead cedar trees surrounded the house and garbage decorated the lawn. The front porch was cracked and the paint was peeling. The front door had one set of hinges and the place where the other set of hinges should be was some duct tape. The door would creak whenever it opened and that creak always made me feel horrible. The house had broken windows and missing shingles off the roof. The structure was wood, but the top floor, I think, could collapse at any second.
Inside the carpet was ripped and stained (with beer or blood). The dishes were piled to where the ceiling tiles should be. Clothes and beer bottles were scattered around the house. The only washroom had a broken shower, the sink leaked and the toilet didn’t flush. The upstairs had 2 bedrooms and a closet. I lived in the closet, well it’s one of the bedrooms, but it’s small enough to be a closet. It had some carpet underlay on the ground and that’s my bed. My clothes are piled in a few piles in the corners and my prized possessions were also piled in a corner.
As John booted me into my room he yelled, “I’ll see you when I get back from work tomorrow.” Then he slammed the door and locked it. In other words I was locked in my room for about 24 hours. I hadn’t been in here for 6 weeks, but at least it was my own room, rather than the streets.
At what I was guessing to be 10 o’clock, I fell asleep. I woke up late in the morning. My door was still shut and my window was still sealed off. Yes, I was trapped in this very boring life and bedroom. I walked over to my window and looked out of it. We lived in a rural zone, so all I saw was vast fields of trees. They went on and on, so far outwards, it got boring that nothing changed or stopped. Whenever I was in trouble like this, I would always just look out this window and say to myself there is more to my life that this hell. I’ve always thought it would end when John and Fiona die, but I knew there was another world or at least some time, were things went my way.
A knock came at my door. “Yes?” I answered.
It was Fiona, “Herridan. You have a phone call.”
“A phone call for me,” I thought, “Very rare.” I was thankful Fiona was a little more loving and nice than John was. John would have hung the phone up, if he knew it were for me. “I’m coming Fiona.” I called. Fiona put our most hi-Tec appliance, our cordless phone, through the small hole at the bottom of my door, where my food was slipped under. I picked it up and said thanks to Fiona. She left.
“Hello” I said.
“Hello Herry. It’s me Chuck.” said my old high school friend, Chuck.
“Oh hello Chuck what’s happening?” I asked.
“Not much, I heard you were caught by your parents again. You were gone 4, 5, no 6 weeks were you not?” Chuck said.
“Yeah I was gone a while wasn’t I?”
“Where’d you stay the whole time?”
“Oh, on the streets of, um, Tarton I think it was.”
“Whoa man, Christ! Tarton is like 300 km from here! You hitch a ride or something?”
“Yeah I drove with this really fat ass! You have any idea how many times she farted?”
“What, 500?”
“Pretty close!”
“HA HA HA!”
We talked for a while about my little escapade in Tarton, but after about an hour Chuck brought something up. “Hey Herry, um… this was kinda the whole reason I phoned you. I got this sweet ass deal the other day on snowboarding passes.”
I asked, “Isn’t snowboarding out of season?”
“No, not yet! That’s why I got them for such a cheap price. Tomorrow is the last day, they still got some fake snow out and it’s all grassy, but two passes for $10 doesn’t come around everyday.” Chuck explained.
“So what are you getting at?” I asked.
“Do you want to come with me and catch up a little more?”
I would have certainly said yes, but John wouldn’t. “I don’t know Chuck, I want to, but my foster parents…”
Chuck suggested, “They don’t have to know, sneak out man. You’ve done it before.”
I thought about it for a bit then I said, “Sure why not, I’ll go when John and Fiona are at work.”
“Ok then, it’s settled.” Chuck announced, “Meet you at my house at eight.”
“I’ll be there!”
I hung up the phone and gave it back to Fiona after I called her over.
I was a really excited about going snowboarding again. I hadn’t done that in at least 3 years. The wind raging past you face and the shredding of the snow, one of the few fun things I had ever done in my life. One thing troubled me though. If I snuck out tomorrow and I was caught, I would face higher consequences than any other time before. When I had first started running away about 6 years ago, John gave me a number. John’s lucky number was 15, so when I reached 15 times of running away, I would be beaten so much, he wouldn’t hesitate to continue until I died! I still don’t understand why he didn’t say 3 times or 4, rather than 15. My only two theories was either because he was drunk as hell he made the idea up, or he wanted to make it a distant number, so I could lose track and he’s be able to kill me, legally, according to his laws. The sad part is that I was just caught from my 14th escape attempt, so knowing John, I’m dead if I’m caught. I suppose my first theory was correct if I remember which escape I’m at. Don’t think I’m lying, I’m really dead if I’m caught. But on the other hand, I was getting better at it every time, so I’m not going to get caught this time. I don’t plan on it.
I decided to try and do it the honest way, just in case it was possible to avoid the whole risk. I went and asked Fiona, after John unlocked my room, if I could go snowboarding with Chuck. As I expected John overheard and said “NO! Absolutely not!”
I made a little sad puppy face, but Fiona told me, “Your father’s right. You just got in major shit and now you want to go do something very dangerous, with God knows who!”
I complained, “I’m 17 friggin’ years old, why can’t I just go snowboarding with a friend for a few hours?”
John shouted, “Herridan! When you’re in this house you will obey these rules.” He saw my dissatisfied face. He burst out in defense of himself, “Besides how do I know this isn’t another plan to escape?”
Then I shouted a phrase I’ve used a lot in these kinds of situations. “Well has it ever occurred to you, that I don’t want to live in this hell hole and obey its rules? Why can’t I live a normal life, like the other 100 million people my age do? If you don’t like me and I don’t like you, why do we live as a family?”
Fiona yelled at me, “We do love you. We just don’t want you getting hurt!”
I reply, “Love me, my ass. You wish I was dead and I wish you were dead! You’re just as bad as the ass next to you.”
John lit a cigarette and pointed his finger at me, “Do not use that tone with your mother. She’s a fragile woman.”
I yelled at John to make a point. “Why do you care for her? Why’d you even marry her? You come home every night at 2 am, drunk, stoned and you beat her! You beat her like a rug!”
John shut his mouth and Fiona retaliated. “John does not do that to me! He just gets angry, with you, for being such a pest. He just takes a little of it out on me. You cause him to drink! It’s all your fault Herridan for being such an awful son!”
I defend my opinion. “You lie so damn badly. I see you, every night with a mixture of tears and blood dripping from your face! Do you not know what’s going on? Oh sorry, it must have been the weed you asked me to buy you over the past 17 years. Why do you stand for such, pathetic trash!”
John got furious and demanded, “Stop telling your mother that!”
I told John, “She’s not my mother! She’s a desperate person to go with the likes of you.”
Fiona slaps me across the face and yells; “You’re not the one to talk. Now shut up and go to your room.”
I tried to continue getting my point across, that Fiona was a better lady before she met John. I grabbed her by the throat and threatened John. “Do you really care for this woman, this misguided, insecure, unloved woman?”
John paused as he looked at my bite-your-head-off face and Fiona’s do-you-really-love-me-John tears. Fiona said, face full of tears, “Jonathan,” She began pleading, only because she was in my grasp, “Can’t we be a little more trusting and loving family? Is that just too much to ask for? I’m starting to believe Herridan here. Do you actually love me, with the deepest feelings of your heart?”
John remained frozen. His mouth dropped and his cigarette was still burning and attached to his lips with cold, hard saliva.
I asked “So do I have to find out myself or will you finally admit you’re a horrible person.”
John only woke from his trance when he heard the pat of his cigarette hitting the floor. His voice was soft and forced, “I…I…I do love you Fiona and Herridan, but I just…” His face went cross again and he shouted, “I…I’m going for a drink!”
That was it. As soon as John stepped out of the door, I released Fiona and apologized. Fiona and I were a step closer to being friends and a step farther from being enemies, a really fake form of friendship.
Fiona, after talking it over with John that night, said I could go snowboarding with Chuck. I was very happy that 1. I could go and 2. I won an argument with my foster parents. I wasted no time rushing to our back shed. I pulled my snowboard from the collapsing shed. My snowboard was a good one. I had saved up for it since I was 10 and I finally got it 3 years ago. It seemed so new since the first time using it was the last time I went snowboarding. I got in a crash. A rock seemed to pop out of nowhere and I hit it, went flying and broke both my arms. John and Fiona freaked out, but now after 3 years, I’m able to snowboard again, and I wasn’t going to crash this time.
I went to sleep in my room and woke up bright and early. I ate a granola bar for breakfast and packed my gear. Fiona had already left for work at John’s shop, but John was still there. As he chewed an apple slowly, he looked at me coldly as I walked through the kitchen. I put on my shoes and said, “Bye.”
He replied, with hesitation, “Have fun.”
I had to walk to Chuck’s house, because Fiona took our second car and John obviously needed the first one. As I walked down the dirt road I wondered what Fiona said to John. John said have fun, and that is something you don’t here often, maybe even never. Fiona obviously said something pretty powerful to him if he was to say something nice to me afterwards. Fiona and John were pretty mean people, but I suppose, I am one who believes there’s good in everyone, even myself.
Before I knew it, my 5 km walk was over. I was ringing Chuck’s doorbell just after that. I didn’t have to wait long before I remembered that Chuck had things a whole lot better than me. He house had some garbage on it and his door squeaked a little, but the heads of the home, his parents, were as clean as a hard earned trophy. Not too long after I rang the bell, his little brother, which had gotten much bigger since the last time I’ve seen him, answered the door. “Hello. What do you want?” he asked politely.
“Is Chuck here? It’s his friend Herridan. We’re supposed to go snowboarding today.” I answered.
He turned inside the house and shouted upstairs, “Chuck! You’re friend’s here!”
In seconds Chuck raced down the stairs, put on his jacket and said, “Hi.”
“Hey Chuck,” I noticed. “You look different.” He had his usual black hair, but it was in a buzz cut, but now he had a few more new rings on his face.
He looked at me, “You don’t look too different, but your new hair style is totally you!” He was commenting on my new longer hairstyle, which was medium length, flat, wavy, blond hair, which I didn’t really mind. I liked it because I didn’t need to comb it anymore than a few strokes with my fingers.
“Yeah it’s hard to get the short hair when you live on the streets.” I said.
He gave me a quick nod. He pulled out his keys and smiled, “Here, hop in my car and let’s move on out!”
The drive to the ski hill was about an hour. In the mean time, I told Chuck a few more stories about my running away experiences. Such as when I got my head stuck in a garbage can or when I threw a cigarette accidentally in a police car and it caught on fire. Chuck was jealous that I got to do so many adventures and I was jealous that he had a family that loved him, and a little jealous that he had a driver’s license and a car. I wasn’t too jealous of his car; it was pretty rusty and clunky. But he bought it with his own money so he had his life pretty well started up, while I couldn’t even get a job for starters.
We arrived finally. Chuck was quick to get into the lodge and flash the cashier our tickets. She warned us that the slopes had many patches of grass and other dangers. We said we’d be fine, but appreciated the advice anyway. We wasted no time at all to put on our gear. We got outside the lodge and looked around. From where we stood, we could only see about 20 people out there. It was a ghosthill. Chuck loved the thought of an uncrowded day, although I didn’t share his enthusiasm and was quite nervous. We decided to warm ourselves up with a blue square run called, “The Zigger-Zagger.” We hopped on the chair lift and as we went up we noticed all the patches of grass. We saw one snowboarder leap over a large patch of grass and land it with style.
Chuck got really excited with the added challenge and excitement the grass would add. He frowned a little and commented, “I expected more patches of grass, they must be putting more chemicals in their snow or something.”
I said nervously, “I don’t really think this’ll be a warm up, look at all these obstacles!”
Then Chuck mentioned, “Oh don’t worry Herry, I’ve done this before. You can still slide on them, kind of, but you just can’t turn on them. So you needn’t go around them.”
I added, “Well this is only my second time snowboarding.”
Chuck hit me a little, “Well what the heck are you worrying about? You boarded once and it took you half an hour to be as good as me. Christ, as soon as you go two feet you’ll be doing back flips down the triple black diamonds.” The end of the chair lift approached. “Don’t worry, you can do it.”
I felt a little less nervous, but something wasn’t right. Something bad was going to happen. “But then what’s the worst that could happen,” I thought to myself. “My ankle broken?” I quickly shook off my uneasiness and I didn’t concern myself with that anymore, now I was concerning myself with just getting off the chair lift and getting ready.
We got down the blue square hill with ease. Chuck saw that I had already gotten the feel of the snowboard again. So he opted to take a double black diamond hill “The Mutant Camel” and I followed. Chuck had a map of the ski hill, and it said that The Mutant Camel had a lot of jumps and cliffs. Again, on the way up, I saw all the grass patches and even giant hills of grass.
So now I really didn’t feel good. “Chuck, this one doesn’t look that safe.” I complained.
Chuck nodded and said, “All the better.”
“Yes, you’re right man. It will be cool.” I agreed on the outside, but deep inside I didn’t at all. When we got to the top Chuck went ahead and I stayed back a little to adjust my boots.
I stood there watching Chuck as he went down, he turned a corner behind some trees and he was gone. Now I was alone. I stalled, bracing myself, thinking if my conscience was right, not to go. But I pushed off and started down the hill anyway, feeling the rush of a challenge being drowned out with regret.
The wind blew past me and the snow shedded behind me. As I made the same corner Chuck did, the trees howled and the snow screamed. The turn was a long and sloped a great deal downwards. My board wasn’t gripping the snow as much as it should be, so my turn was rather wide. The turn was hugging the patch of trees and the other side was a really steep downward hill. Since my turn was too wide, I wasn’t on the path anymore and I was on the much steeper part of the hill, but I didn’t worry too much. I could just get right back on the path by keeping my turn going. I was going to make it with no problems. Then out of the blue my snowboard cracked. I looked down at it. The crack was growing slowly at first. I looked forward again and the crack was making my turn more dangerously wider. Then I heard a sudden crack and my bones instinctively locked up to keep balance. The board split in two! I fell on my back and slid down the extremely steep hill. I couldn’t get back up; the hill was slippery grass and at least 45 degrees or more steep. I smashed through a plastic orange fence and the slope of the hill got even steeper. Soon I couldn’t even see, the water spraying from the grass because of my body and board sliding past it was hitting me violently all over. I was frozen and burning from the friction of the water also sliding up the inside of my jacket and against my back. The left piece of my board came undone and flew off. The speed of my sliding was faster than a roller coaster drop. I felt my stomach in my mouth and I wasn’t slowing down. Despite my chaotic speed, time froze. It seemed to freeze, because with the little vision I had, I saw that a boulder was in my path. My vision turned inverse, I saw my life flash before me, I saw the boulder coming closer. I couldn’t move. I just kept sliding towards the boulder. I knew my life would end and a second life would begin.
I tried to move and land against the boulder on my feet, but I missed and my shins hit the rock. I went flying over top and landed on my back. I slid for a few more meters and then I hit a tree and then another. I had finally stopped. I felt no pain, I wanted to smile and say that I was all right, that it didn’t hurt, but I knew my nerves were just shot. I opened my eyes to see the sky and a bird fly across it. That bird was so beautiful for some reason. It was the only one who saw my pain in a whole sky of nothingness. I let out a grin, I thought to myself, “Maybe this is what it’s like to die. You see something beautiful.” I wanted to watch the sky forever, but everything went black. My body stopped twitching and lost consciousness. That was the last I remembered.