Okay so this is the first time I've actually blogged by request. Everybody wants to know why I was arrested at 15.
So I've poured myself a glass of wine... And will now regail you with my tale. Well, experience... As best as I can remember. The adreneline that night had me so high, I'm suprised I remember what I do.
Okay so I was 15, a freshman in high school, and living in Woodland Park, Colorado.
I never had a good relationship with my step-father. He was a drunk. We fought constantly. He liked to boss me around like a drill sergent and tell people that I was his daughter, to which I would quickly interject that he was only my step-father and I had a real, honest to God father.
I never quite understood why he wanted to claim me as his, yet hated me so much. He even asked me to let him adopt me once... I never told my father. But my father probably would have choked my step-father.
My step-father was not the nicest guy. He stabbed me in the leg with a pen once, for talking too loud in a waiting room. He would yank me back by my hair if I ever walked away from him in the middle of a confrontation. He used to give me indian burns or pinch me or twist my arms back if I talked back. And he looked at me like I was a piece of meat and would find ways to "accidentally" touch me in inaappropriate places. So I wore baggy pants and shirts to hide my figure.
And I didn't like bringing any of my pretty girl friends home with me. Because my step-father would look them up and down like a piece of meat, so creepily that my friends would want to leave.
One of my weekly chores was to vacuum the entire house. Well, if I ever left tracks in the carpet from the vacuum cleaner, he would make me re-vacuum the entire space over again.
He was OCD. Ever seen, Sleeping with the Enemy?
Well when I first saw that movie, I knew that that creepy guy reminded me of someone. My step-father.
Anyways... I sort of had to explain my step-father to explain why I did what I did.
I was so tired of living with the man and my mother constantly taking up for him that I decided that I was going to get out.
Now if I had been rational, I would have called my father, here in Georgia and said, "Hey Dad, I want to come live with you." And my dad would have bought the next airplane ticket east.
But I had this guilt thing about my mom. I never liked the idea of leaving her all by herself with my step-father.
I wasn't sure what all he was capable of, but I didn't want my mother to be the guinea pig, if you understand.
My best friend Britt, had a very similar step-father. Except hers was more physically abusive. We both wanted out and wanted out fast.
So at exactly 2 a.m. on April the 4th of 2004, I snuck up the stairs and into the kitchen were my step-father left his keys hanging on the wall, and stole his car, a Geo Prism.
I picked up Britt. We packed our clothes, food and stolen money and hit the dusty trail. We stopped at a Wal-Mart in the Springs(Colorado Springs)to buy a map and decided to head somewhere out east.
We didn't even leave good-bye notes. I drove the car, even though I was 15 and didn't even have my learner's liscence then. So I swirved quite a bit. And because of all the adrenaline shooting through my veins, ran a couple of red lights.
We headed out of Colorado.
As the sun was rising that morning, I started crying violently behind the wheel, waking Britt up, who had been asleep in the passenger seat.
"What's wrong?" Britt sat up fast and looked at me.
I wiped my nose on my sleeve. "I can't believe what we just did to our moms."
About this time, I knew my mother would be heading downstairs to wake me for school and I could only imagine what would be going through her head when she didn't find me there.
When she didn't find me anywhere.
Well, I pulled off the interstate at the nearest exit. We had made it almost to the Kansas border.
I knew I neaded to get to a phone and call my mom and tell her I was okay. I figured I would say I was sorry and beg for forgiveness and everything would be alright.
(This was before I had a cell.)
I parked the car in a parking lot, got out and walked to the nearest office building.
When I walked inside, I was still crying. I asked a woman sitting at a desk if I could borrow her phone.
She gave me a bizaar look, but agreed and led me to a small office and waited as I dialed my moms number.
Ring. My step-father answered.
"Uh, can I talk to mom?" I was still crying.
"Amanda?! Where are you?!" He shouted through the phone.
"Uh...." I looked over at the woman. "Um, what town are we in?"
The woman now looked thouroughly shocked as she answered, "Limon." (Pronounced Lime-on.)
I repeated that to my step-father and he asked me where I was calling from and if Britt was with me.
I once again turned to the woman to ask what building we were in. But I can't remember now what it was. But I told my step-father.
"Okay, just stay where you are."
I paniced. What? I wanted to talk to my mom. To see her. "What? Why don't I just drive back home?"
"Don't you go anywhere!" My step-father hollered into the phone.
I began to sob. The woman handed me a box of tissues. I blew my nose and walked back out to the car where Britt was waiting.
"So what happened?" I was climbing back into the driver's seat when she asked.
I still had tears in my eyes. "I don't know. ________ [step-father] said not to go anywhere."
It wasn't two minutes later when two police cars pulled into the parking lot and walked over to the car.
Britt and I were both cuffed, pat down, and put into two seperate patrole cars.
I was in complete shock. I was being arrested? I just wanted to go home.
We were put into holding cells and then questioned by family and children services.
Britt and I both knew what they were after, so we simply told them that we were just goofing off. Neither of us mentioned our step-fathers.
Then, family and children services came and took us to another building, where we were locked in a room with glass walls, where people walking down the halls on either side could look in and watch us. There were two sofas in the room and a bunch of coloring books and building blocks.
I felt like a hampster, or a goldfish, or whatever. Like the people walking down the halls who looked in and starred were waiting for me to do something like walk on the walls or implode.
I laid on one of the sofas and cried. Britt sat in the middle of the floor picking off her chipped nail polish.
For twelve hours, we stayed like this.
Eventually our mothers did come bail us out of the trouble we had gotten ourselves in. My step-father loathed me more than ever and threatened to press charges. And my mother never trusted me again. I was grounded for the rest of my life as far as they were concerned.
When my mother handed me the phone later that day, she said, "You explain to your father what happened today."
My father listened and just sighed. "So you ready to come home?"
I cried. "Not yet."
"Well, next time. Just call me. It'll save you another trip to jail."
Lived Through by Mandie Described at 7:04 PM