Running Away

I had wanted to move out of the house ever since I was a teenager so that I could be free and live my life as I wanted. But it wasn't without good reason—back then, the situation between my father and me was going from bad to worse. He would insult me every chance he got, and sometimes even hit me without the slightest provocation.

There was one night when I actually tried to run away, but my father was awake and heard me leaving my room. He found me in the kitchen with a backpack, and at that moment, I thought he was going to beat the shit out of me, but I managed to talk my way out of it and went back to my room. Later, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't worth it anyway; I didn't have anywhere to go, and I was too young to get a job or rent a place to live. So I decided that I was going to wait until 2019, and move out when I was 18 years old.

A few years later, 2019 arrived, and on the night before my birthday, I went to the bridge near my house overlooking a river, and I stood there waiting until midnight. When the time came, I felt relieved—it was finally time to set my plans in motion. But there was one piece of the puzzle missing: money. I had a bank account containing the money that my mother left to me when she passed away, but it was controlled by my father, so I had to ask him to give me access to it, which is what I did that morning.

Of course, he didn't do it, so I kept asking him every week without success. I never mentioned that I wanted to move out, but he kept giving me different excuses every time. After over a month had passed, I got tired of waiting. I knew I had to get what was rightfully mine and get the hell out of there as soon as possible; otherwise, I might be stuck there forever.

So I waited for the perfect opportunity, and it eventually came: my father was going downtown on business and wouldn't be back before dawn, so I asked for a ride to a library I used to go to. It was a strategic location since the library was near the bank. As soon as I arrived at the library, I called an Uber to the bank. There, I changed all my passwords and got a new card, gaining full access to my account and locking my father out. After doing so, I went straight home and packed my bags as fast as I could.

I left a note saying that I was going to my uncle's place in the countryside. But it was a distraction—I actually went to my girlfriend's house, which was only a few blocks away. Travelling to my uncle's house usually took 6 to 8 hours, so that was the head start I had before he started looking for me. The next morning I woke up early, said goodbye to my girlfriend, and took an Uber to a hotel near Guarulhos International Airport, where I only paid for one night.

That same day, I went to the airport and bought a plane ticket to a place far away. The city of choice was Natal, a beautiful tropical city on the other side of the country. I had always wanted to go there and had never mentioned it to my father, making it the perfect choice. The flight was scheduled for the next day, and even though my father no longer had access to my bank card's transactions, I paid for the ticket in cash just to be safe.

That night at the hotel, I was very uneasy. I knew at that point he was probably going crazy looking for me, and for a moment, I even felt sorry for him. But then I remembered all the things he had done to me over the years, and I managed to fall asleep with a clear conscience. When morning came, I was afraid and excited at the same time, but most importantly, motivated. So I got my things and went to the airport one last time.

I cannot describe the mix of feelings I had while boarding that plane. So many things were going through my head, and I kept thinking that something might still go wrong. But when the plane finally took off, all I felt was relief because I was finally free. I knew that the darkest chapter of my life was over, and it was time to write my own story. I had made it.

My father would never have let me move out if I had asked him, so my only option was leaving without asking. To me, it felt like running away, but I was 18 years old, so as far as anyone was concerned, I was just a young man moving to a different city. Besides, I'm almost certain that if I had stayed, he would've killed me or I would've killed him, and that's not an exaggeration.