Unwanted Life

This is either the beginning or the ending of a story that's been in my head forever...

Twice I turned back towards home. And twice I merged back onto the highway in my original direction. Even though I had come almost a thousand miles, the last few yards were the hardest. I paused where the blacktop gave way to gravel and reluctantly followed the driveway with my eyes. The cool air coming from the car’s vents only added to the chill I felt as I looked at the small house. The yard was overgrown with weeds; the screen door swayed in the August breeze.


My hands were clammy on the steering wheel and I realized I’d been holding my breath. Letting it out slowly, I took my foot off the brake and continued up the drive. Flashes of a past life came in waves: second hand shoes; homemade dresses; the sickly sweet smell of bourbon; mother’s worn, red hands; raised voices; the sting from father’s belt; hiding in the storm cellar until their black moods passed; unwanted images of an unhappy life.

I stood on the sloping porch, my fingers paused above the doorknob and I wondered again why I had come. As a child I felt nothing but fear and dread in this house, as a teen-ager I escaped, as an adult I swore I’d never go back. They were both gone now, there was nothing here for me. Yet, here I was. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open and stepped into stale air and silence.