On the Run

By Crystal Besserer

Christine and James met and it was love at first sight. Shortly after moving in with each other, things changed, and her world was forever altered. Follow Christine on a journey through the psychological darkness that James brings, as she goes on the run.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crystal Besserer
• Release date: Nov 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005369859

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On the Run

By Crystal Besserer

Copyright 2021 Crystal Besserer

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter One

On the best of days, Christine had a sinking and unsettling feeling in her stomach; it always felt like it was tied in knots which caused discomfort the minute she ate or drank. Christine had been to the doctor several times and it was constantly the same answer, You have bad nerves Christine, I would like to prescribe something for you. After leaving the doctor's small office, which was over cramped with patients, she would toss the prescription in a nearby garbage can.

What did her doctor know anyhow? Anytime that she went to see him, it was less than a five minute visit, and always with the same answer. Dr. Yeates didn’t have good mannerisms with his patients, and rarely did he get up from his desk to take a look at what was going on. Often, Christine heard comments from other patients that this doctor was a pill pusher because he got money back from every prescription that was successfully filled. This wasn’t the kind of doctor that she wanted to take prescriptions from. Things were a little rough on the home front, but that was no reason for her to indulge in prescribed uppers and downers.

At home, Christine sat at her old round oak table. It looked as bad as she felt these days; it had more scratches and nicks than she had battle scars. Some days she felt that her life had less purpose than that of the table that she sat at every morning to drink coffee. Her life consisted of drinking black coffee and smoking rolled cigarettes. She was sick and tired of working all day and some of the night, only to come home and not have anything. Everything that she owned was second hand. Her clothes were old and worn out, and she couldn’t even afford to do her laundry. This is what her life had amounted to. She contemplated suicide, as she figured that there was no one that would ever miss having her around. She even thought of ways to do it. One of these times she was going to take the prescription that her doctor gave her and overdose, so that she could end her suffering.

She had felt that her father loved her, and that her step mother was an evil witch. She found out at the age of twelve, that her real mom wasn’t her step mom. This explained everything. Christine now knew why she was treated so poorly by her step mother. Her step mother hated her guts. Often, when her father went away on trips, she would lock Christine under the stairs for hours on end. There were even days that her step mother forgot to feed her. Christine understood hunger and was quite used to the fact that when her father came home, she ate like a princess and when her father was gone, she was never sure when she would get her next meal. Berries were common fillers for Christine in the summer time. She would wander off into the woods and look for blueberries and raspberries. They were good when she was hungry. She wasn't a big fan of the partridge berries or blackberries, but if the blueberries and raspberries weren't available, she would eat them to fill her belly.

Most of her childhood resulted in moving from city to city, and from province to province, so that her father could find work. She came from a long line of almost poverty stricken families. Most of them couldn’t afford a pot to piss in, let alone getting new clothes. She wanted to do something to change her life. She sulked when she thought of the son that she had given up for adoption. She was merely 16 years old at the time, and was stuck in a rut with a guy that didn’t seem to give a hoot about her. Christine had saved her son! That is exactly how she saw it. Her sweet little boy cried day in and day out. He was only a few months old when she had given him up for adoption. She couldn’t handle it anymore, and the guy that she was with didn’t want to have her son around. He feared responsibility.

Christine was pregnant when she met James. James had long flowing black hair and dark brown eyes. He wore a scar on his right cheek that she found so sexy. He was six foot tall and weighed in at one hundred and seventy pounds. James was a rough and tough guy and she loved every minute of it in the beginning. Now that she was with this man, she feared for her life and feared for the life of her son. She wanted to leave so desperately but didn’t feel that she had a way out. Giving her son up for adoption was the only way that she could see to get her son out of the bad mess that she was in. She didn't want to scar her son for life and expose him to the violence and alcoholism that her boyfriend dealt out each and every day.

James walked in and sat at the table as he did every morning after he grabbed his cup of black coffee. He stared blankly at Christine and usually gave some self-esteem denting remark that made her cry. Her self-esteem was already shot. She always hung her head and pretended to listen to the daily demeaning comments that came from his fowl mouth. She knew that if she said anything back, she would only be making things worse for herself. This way was quickest, he would say what he felt and it would only last for a few minutes.

James wasn’t feeling well again today. When he drank, he felt normal and when he didn’t have a beer, he would hear the voice that haunted him.

I’m coming for you. It would whisper.

This was enough to make any man drink and keep drinking. James was becoming a little more paranoid by the day but didn’t want Christine to know because she would think that he was insane. She would probably try to commit him. He just didn’t know how to deal with himself when he didn’t drink and really had to find a way to vent his frustrations. He wondered what he should do. He had to keep drinking to stop the problem from recurring. He knew that he had an addiction and was unable to do anything about it. He was really agitated. He looked into his mug of coffee, hoping that he could just calm down. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. All he wanted to do is have a beer so that he could calm down some. He wanted to stop the anger from building up inside so that he could be calm. He didn’t know himself anymore and hated what he was becoming.

I’m coming for you.

The voice was getting louder and louder. He covered his ears as he looked into his cup. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired of that wretched voice speaking in his ears. It wasn’t normal. That damn agency was trying to get to him again. The paranoia was getting worse and worse. He had to have a drink or he was going to explode.

Her whole life was one big nightmare and there was nothing that she could do about it. At the age of sixteen with no mother and a father that had disowned her because she got pregnant, she didn’t have the much needed love in her life. Everything that she ever knew as family and love was gone. She looked at James. He looked upset again. He seemed to be having a hard time dealing with the fact that there was no money for beer. What was there to life? Was this what God had intended for her?

Her thoughts were broken when the coffee mug smacked her in the face. What had she done this time to make James so angry and violent? This wasn’t the normal routine. He should've just stated what he wanted to say and then leave it at that. This morning he was angrier than ever before. Christine looked up at him as she touched the side of her face.

You weren't paying attention. Now that I have your attention, I'm fine.

Christine got up from her chair without saying a word and walked into the bathroom carefully shutting the door behind her. There was no mirror to see how bad the cut was. She grabbed a facecloth and wiped away the dripping warmth. There was a lot of crimson red blood. He had cut her again. Carefully she felt with her fingers that were now shaking from the unexpected blow, and checked for broken glass. There was none. How deep was this cut anyhow? What was she going to do about this? She had no band aids to keep the cut closed to heal. She had to stop the blood from dripping down her face. Christine grabbed the only hand towel that she owned and dampened it with cold water from the sink. She carefully placed it over the area where he had smashed the mug and applied a lot of pressure. She wondered how long she would have to do this for.

Christine. I'm sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Let me in please so I can see how bad it is.

She ignored him. This wasn’t what James had intended to do to her. He wished that he been able to have a beer this morning. He wouldn’t have done what he did to her. He felt bad that he had done it. That voice started again. He thought that he had gotten rid of it. He had to do something fast. He could feel the anger boiling inside of him waiting to erupt again.

No! He yelled.

The voice wouldn’t stop. It was enraging him. He was tired of being taunted by the voice. The man that was sent from the agency was causing all of this. James needed to get through the door to make sure that Christine was okay, but he was getting angrier by the second.

Open the fucking door Christine, or I’ll break the fucking thing down.

She did nothing. She didn’t want to open the door. At this point, she was safer in the bathroom. He sounded like he was still angry with her. She hoped that he would just walk away. Again, James repeated himself. Once again, she ignored him. The door flew open and he barged in like a mad man.

This is why I do this stuff! You always ignore me! he yelled.

He held his closed fists inches from her face. He held up his right hand to make a swing and then saw the fear in her big blue eyes. That stopped him. He stood there quietly for a moment and then hung his head and walked out of the small narrow bathroom. The voice was going away again. It was so faint that he could barely hear it anymore. He was thankful for this. There was more than enough damaged caused for one day. James was disappointed with himself. He really wished he could control himself better than he had been. He really didn’t want to be an asshole but that voice, it was making him do things that he wouldn’t normally do. Christine sat on the toilet with the lid down and started to cry. She knew it was pointless to talk to him about this and she had no friends. She was uncertain of what to do and where to go. After moments of thinking and gathering her thoughts, she walked out to the living room and sat on the floor still holding the towel to her face. He had kicked the bathroom door really hard. It was only hanging on one hinge and there was broken wood protruding from the center of the door.

The apartment worked fine for her, but she did wish that she had a nicer place. With only one income, she found the only thing that was available in her price range. The room was as empty as she felt inside. She could sit for hours watching the paint peel from the walls as there wasn’t much else to do. The kitchen chairs were uncomfortable after an hour of sitting. She needed to sit on the carpet. Christine observed the apartment over and over again, and noticed that the windows were the old wooden frames with paint that dangled from the edges of them. There were no curtains or blinds as she couldn’t afford them. The carpet stank of cat pee and had a sweet musky odor. There were burn marks, tears and holes everywhere in the ugly, shaggy carpet. The kitchen wasn’t much better. The cupboards were peeling their greenness away to reveal one of the many layers of paint underneath. The floor had cigarette burns everywhere and dirt was caked on from years of it not being cleaned. In her cupboards she had two antique plates, cups and saucers which she had purchased from a yard sale for $0.25 each. Most of the spoons, forks and knives were plastic that she had stolen from local restaurants. She tried to wash them as many times as she could before having to throw them out. Christine had scored herself an old camping pot from a co-worker a few months prior. It burned everything but she didn’t care as she needed something to cook with. The majority of their dinners were made of flour and water mixed together and fried in the frying pan with a little butter. The heartburn was too much to bear these days so she would put some jam or peanut butter on it so that it would go down better. Coffee was cheap and so was sugar, but she never had enough money to buy milk to drink. It was unbelievable how she was living now. Christine thought that leaving home at sixteen and running away would be better for her, as she would have more choices in life. She had discovered a harder road than the one that she was on with her step mother.

Her stepmother was indeed a horrible woman. When Christine came of age to have a period, her stepmother would make her use toilet paper. It wasn’t that they were poor at the time; it was only because her father was always away working and knew nothing of these things. How could she talk to her Dad anyhow about girl stuff? How was he supposed to know anything that she was going through as she developed into a young woman? Pan handling was learned at an early age as she always went to school with the same old things. She had an apple and a butter and peanut butter sandwich. It wasn’t something that Christine liked; however, she knew that she would go hungry if she didn’t eat it. At some points during grade eight, a basket was handed around so that the kids could trade their lunches. It always contained what she wanted to place in the container.

Christine wasn’t a self-pitying gal, but these days, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. Near dinner time, she opened the window and used a stick to keep it open. The smell of the neighbor’s barbeque made her drool. She knew what she was having for dinner again tonight. She was having fried dough with butter. There was no jam or peanut butter left. They had already been to the food bank this month, so she couldn’t go there either. She needed new towels, bed sheets, new shoes for work, clothes, a haircut, groceries, cleaning supplies, a new pot, and of course a new life. The thoughts of everything that she needed were overwhelming to her. She wished that James would get a job so that she could have some extra money. This pay check had to go to rent. At least she had a place to live. The apartment and his drinking were getting to be too much to handle on her two pay checks a month.

Christine curled up by the window and listened to the horrid grumbling in her stomach. This was a daily routine. The worst part of her life was that she worked in a fast food joint. The food always smelled so good and she wanted to be able to eat something that had no breading in it, like French fries and gravy, at least once this month. There was no way that she could sneak anything to eat at her place of work. If she did, it would come off of her pay check and she wouldn't be able to pay her rent or it might take away from the bit of grocery money that she would have. It was torture when she was at work, watching people come in a buy whatever they felt like eating, and here she was struggling to afford a bag of flour. What she would give to be able to eat out at a restaurant and have healthy meals at home. It was no wonder that James said she was fat. With the way that she was eating, she was surprised that she had any weight at all. Flour was one of the things that her step mother had told her to avoid because it would go straight to her thighs. For once, her stepmother was right about something.

She must’ve fallen asleep because she looked out the window and it was dark outside. As she stood up she noticed that James' shoes were gone. He was gone again. At least she could enjoy her weekend off in peace. She had thought too soon. There were footsteps coming up the stairs. She knew it wasn’t the slumlord because the rent was paid on time every month despite the severe beatings that she would get with steel toed boots for not giving James the money to go and get drunk. Somehow, James always found a way to get into a drunken stupor, even without her money. If only he could give her some of the money that he was getting from god knows where and get some groceries in the apartment. The party life was exactly what Christine didn’t want. She hated it with every beat of her broken heart. Several times this month alone, she was forced to go out to the bar and pick up a guy. She always ended up with $20.00 from each man that she left the bar with. Christine would guilt them into giving her money to eat and they wouldn’t take anything from her in return because most of them had daughters her age. Money was never turned down even though she knew that the only reason these men left the bar with her was for the sex. It was a scam that was truthful, but still a scam, because she felt that she was begging for the money and guilting them into thinking about their own daughters. Sometimes, she would hold back twenty dollars so that she could have the occasional hamburger at work. This month she wasn’t as lucky, because James was doing fine by himself without having to get her to go to the bar. Times were rough. She just found out that she was being cut down to twenty hours a week, and there was nothing much else out