Читать книгу The Struggle is Real, but So is Jesus - Tessa - Страница 13

Chapter 6

They went in with me to check me in and meet the staff. My mom came to my room and helped me put my stuff away, and then we sat in the sunroom to talk a while. While we were in there, I lit up a cigarette. Other kids were smoking around me, so I didn’t think anything of it. Halfway through my cigarette, a nurse came up and informed me I had to turn over my cigarettes or have my dad take them home. Of course, I lost it, and my dad asked why. I had their permission, and he said he saw that other kids were allowed to smoke.

They said that my doctor had put in my chart “no smoking.” My dad was mad too. Of course, they didn’t like me smoking, but he just wanted it to be an easy transmission and was also afraid how I would react. I was like a time bomb, and no one ever knew when I would go off.

Well, since I wasn’t a heavy smoker yet at age fourteen and was promised I wouldn’t be there long, I just let it go for my parents’ sake. Besides, I was quite a manipulator and knew I would find a way; of course, I did.

I ended up getting some of the other patients to sneak me a smoke once in a while, but they weren’t allowed to carry lighters on them, so I learned to light my smokes off the blow dryer in my bathroom during room time.

I had no idea how strict this place would be and have no freedom. I wasn’t allowed to go to the dining room downstairs with the other kids for a while. We had to earn our privileges, and I wasn’t good obviously at following orders, so I constantly got in trouble and put on room restriction. I think I was the only kid on lockdown. While they had recreation time outside to play volleyball and stuff, I was stuck upstairs in my room. And the elevators were locked, of course.

I was getting really antsy and felt caged; well, I pretty much was. But I finally earned my privileges to eat in the dining hall downstairs. The first thing I did as soon as the elevators opened was bolt out the back door leading to the yard that just happened not to be locked in.

They were only allowed to chase us to the end of the yard because I heard that one kid that ran off when they were able to keep chasing them got hit by a car, so they had to stop, and I kept running.

The first thing I did was find the nearest gas station and buy a pack of smokes then called my boyfriend, and he came right away to pick me up. We went to his house where he still lived with his parents. No one was home; we went straight to his sister’s room to have sex.

After about a half hour—thank God we were finished, although still naked under the covers—his dad walked in. The only thing he said to us, though, was to hurry up and get out of her room before she got home from school. He also knew how old I was and told him we better not get caught for statutory rape for sleeping with a minor. I assured him my parents wouldn’t press charges if they found out. I really don’t remember if they even knew about him; they probably did and wouldn’t get someone in trouble because they knew how I was.

I ended up going home and begging my parents not to take me back. They weren’t even mad I ran away, just worried, and I could tell my dad felt really bad and didn’t want to take me back. I cried and pleaded; they said they had to call my doctor to see what she said. Of course, she told them to bring me back immediately.

So I went and was on room restriction for a month. My parents could come see me but only in my room, and I had a small room by myself. I continued to get into trouble. When I finally got off room restriction and moved in with a roommate, we figured out how to crawl through the ceiling to the boys’ room next door.

But I ran away every chance I got and always got caught and sent back. My parents had the best insurance, and three months turned into two and a half years and seventeen escapes. The last one, I took two other kids with me, and we went to the nearest truck stop and hitched a ride all the way to Modesto California. It wasn’t where we planned to go. We wanted to go to California and live on the beach. But that’s where we ended up. All the truckers were really nice to us, telling us to be careful of other truckers who would tell us to put out or get out. And they would give us $20 to buy us breakfast when they got to where they were going and we would find another ride.

When we ended up in California, we were nowhere near the beach like I said, but it sure was green and beautiful. I met this guy who worked at the truck stop immediately. He was around eighteen, and we told him our story, and he took us to his parents where he still lived. He told them our car broke down and needed a place to stay for a few days. And they let us. I don’t think they believed him. I was only fifteen, and the youngest of us three was twelve.

They were very kind and fed us. After a couple days, the two I brought got scared and wanted to go home, so he had to tell his parents they were runaways, and his parents—with their consent—called the police to take them so they could get home, but I didn’t want to go, so they let me hide in a back room when the police arrived.

After that, they were uncomfortable with me staying; they didn’t want to get in trouble for harboring a runaway, so their son called a friend of his and asked if he could bring me there. They were both very nice guys, neither one of them tried anything with me. The one who originally picked me up dropped me off with a pizza and soda and some canned food his mom gave him. I remember it was a cool little house, but that’s all I remember of it. The guy worked during the day, so I just hung out ad watched TV. I looked around for jobs, I wanted to stay, but I didn’t even have an ID and was still too young to work.

I remember walking to the gas station every day, asking guys that were pumping gas if I could clean their car for a pack of smokes. Most would just buy me a pack. That’s the closest I came to begging.

After two weeks, I was getting homesick and really bored there. It was a very small town and nothing to do. I called my parents who were freaking out. I look back, and writing this makes me so sad that I could do this to them. I never had children of my own, but I would have been losing my mind. I definitely had a guardian angel watching over me my whole life. I took some crazy risks.

My mom bought me a plane ticket home from San Francisco, which was a two-hour drive, and the nice kid I had met drove me to the airport. I made my mom promise if I came home, not to take me back to that place. She said my doctor already gave up on me and called me hopeless.