Flee by Keely James

three-bedroom house was comfortable and welcoming, but small. I felt guilty for taking up one of those rooms, especially since baby Grace had arrived. She slept in a cradle in the corner of Joe and Mary’s room and would move in with her three-year-old brother Benji when she slept through the night. I had offered to buy them a bigger house, but they would have none of it. They insisted my inheritance was mine alone. They wouldn’t even accept a monthly stipend to help cover my room and board. I was family, not a boarder, they'd said. All I could get away with was doing some of the weekly grocery shopping. I think they'd only agreed to that because it got me out of the house. My parents’ home had sold quickly, surprising, considering the murders that had taken place in its well-decorated living room. Of course, it had been offered at a fraction of what it was worth. I had just wanted it gone, preferably burned to the ground. Most of the furnishings, the belongings that had surrounded me most of my life except for the two boxes I had brought with me, were in storage. Some simply stayed with the house. I hadn’t been able to sort through anything yet. Would I ever be?
    I took Grace from Mary’s arms when I walked into the kitchen. There was something about the smell of a new baby, all powder and lotion and sweetness, that comforted me. Propping her in my left arm, I sat at the table to color one-handed with Benji. He was forever drawing dinosaurs, or his version of them. They looked more like disjointed blobs, with saucer eyes and lopsided triangles for teeth.
    â€œThat’s a good one, Benj. Real mean looking.” Benji grinned and roared at me and returned to coloring. I looked up to see Mary eyeing me quizzically.
    â€œWhat?” I asked. “Have I grown a second nose?”
    â€œNo, you just look content. It suits you. I’m guessing today was better than you'd expected?” She was stirring pasta, carefully avoiding eye contact.
    â€œYeah, it was,” I answered, picturing Mateo’s face and wondering again how some guy I had just met and hardly spoken to could have such an effect on me. Mary waited for me to explain, but when I didn’t offer more, she turned back to the pasta and I turned back to coloring.
    ****
    After dinner and three readings of Danny the Dinosaur with Benji, I showered and retired to my room. I didn’t have much homework yet to occupy me, and for once I did not want to write in my journal. Was it time to tackle the taped-up box in my closet? Way past time, most likely. I was feeling better today than I had since that night. Would it push my luck to open that box, or was this a sign that I was ready? Who knew? I just knew that I felt a sudden urge to rip open the lid and stick my hand in it and pull out a random object. I grabbed my scissors from my desk and sliced through the tape on top.
    Ready, set, go . Thrusting my hand quickly in, I grabbed the first object with which I made contact. Oh, a framed picture. Hugging it tightly to my chest, I crawled into my bed and under my covers, wrapping them securely around me, hoping they could protect me from the emotions squeezing my heart and causing my breath to come in gasps.
    Just look, Blake, you can do it . I slowly opened one eye and peeked. My father’s face stared back at me, smiling and happy. He was sweaty, dressed in running clothes with a number pinned to his chest. His arm was around my twelve-year-old self in the picture. I was also dressed in running clothes, a number on my shirt as well. Our first 10K run. Dad had been so proud of how I had kept up with him, although I had accused him of slowing his pace for me. Mom had been waiting at the finish line, cheering like a woman gone mad, and had snapped the photo as soon as she could work her way to us through the crowd. I remembered how Dad had enjoyed teasing her…
    â€œNext year, Jenny, you’re running with us,” Dad had