The Distance: A Runaways Journey to Salvation

The Distance

A Runaway’s Journey to Salvation

By

Stacey Kessler

Copyright 2020 Stacey Kessler

Smashwords Edition

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Acknowledgments

A special thank you to my children who believed in their mom. You encouraged me in ways you may never know. I love you more than peanut butter!

And to my God, for the gift You have given me and Your unconditional love. Be glorified.

This book was written for all the runaways…

Contents

Acknowledgments

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

Dear Reader

About the Author

Connect with me

Chapter 1

Not much could be seen past the shadow of the light from the highway sign. There was only silence, but for the exception of the hum of an occasional passing car and the duet of tree frogs and crickets. It was late and the traffic on the highway had died down.

"It would be nice to have a bed, a place to lay down and just sleep." Sarah sighed. But, for now, her bed would be behind a tree on a dewy hillside, with her backpack for a pillow. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged herself for warmth. It was in the quiet of night when she felt the safest, even though she was sometimes lonely.

She longed to have someone to watch over her, protect and comfort her, and take up her cause. Every day she worried about what and how she would eat, where she would sleep, and who she could trust. Her age and position hindered her from the ability of looking too far into the future. Sometimes it felt like she would always be a runaway, hiding, and surviving. Yet, deep inside, beneath the hard exterior, was a shimmer of hope that softly whispered, "Hold on." But hope seemed so far away.

Sarah couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be a normal girl with a normal family. Sometimes she would sit and watch people, families, teenagers walking together, mothers pushing their babies in strollers, couples holding hands, and she would feel an emptiness inside like a black hole swallowing her in sadness, loneliness, and fear.

She envied other girls who had bedrooms with posters on their walls, pretty blankets, and their own stuff. She was never allowed these privileges; she was not worthy, it had to be earned. Besides, whenever she did have something it always disappeared, or was taken away, nothing ever stayed.

Sarah didn’t have a compass of what a normal family looked like, but she had a feeling it was not hers. The only thing she had to base what a family should be like was what she saw on the episodes of Little House on the Prairie. She sometimes imagined she was Laura Ingalls. In her imagination she had a father who loved her and called her Half-Pint. She always thought it would be nice to have an endeared nickname. She wished her family were like the Ingalls, and in her daydreaming they were. Amid all the hardships the settler family faced, they still loved and cared for each other and were kind to each other. She knew they were just actors on the television screen, but at least for that brief hour, sitting on the living room floor in front of the TV, Sarah was a part of a family that loved each other.

Soon it would be morning and the highway would again be buzzing with traffic. She knew she should rest, but sleep never came easy, it only came in spurts. She did not want to stay where she was, but she didn’t want to leave either. She felt as if she were perpetually stuck, always wishing she was somewhere else or someone else. She was trapped with no idea where she was going, she only hoped it was better than where she had been. Hope was a gift she held on to, it was all she had left. Her father could take everything else from her, but he could not take her hope. She was tired, lonely, and scared. She was only a kid.

"OK, time to get moving. I can’t stay here forever." She brushed her clothes with her hands, ran her fingers through her hair, threw her backpack over her shoulders and headed back to the highway where her thumb would get her a ride, although she had no idea where to, but each mile put more distance between her and her father. She felt invisible and small in a big world. She identified with a postcard she once saw with a picture of the universe and an arrow pointing to earth with the caption, ‘You Are Here’.

She hated hitchhiking, it always scared her. She figured she was just weighing one fear against another and she chose which ever weighed less. With or without the fear sometimes the dangers were real. It didn’t take long for a ride to stop. The car pulled over to the shoulder of the highway and waited for her to catch up. As she rounded the passenger side of the car she could see it was an older couple. Maybe her parent’s age? They looked harmless enough.

Where ya headed? She asked the woman.

Dover. The man leaned across the seat. Where are you going?

I’m headed in that direction too.

We can get you as far as Dover. The woman offered.

Sarah hopped in the back seat behind the woman, then before closing the door she checked for door handles on the inside, she heard about bad rides and she always looked for a way of escape.

What’s your name? The man asked after he pulled back onto the highway.

My name’s Jessica. She always used an alias. Jessica was one of her favorite names, so today she was Jessica.

My name’s Tom and this is my wife Shirley. The man said, nodding toward the woman.

Thanks for the ride. She sat back in the seat and pretended to be pre-occupied with looking out the window.

The woman turned to face her, What is a young girl like you doing hitchhiking?

Actually, I am older than I look. Sarah answered, trying to sound matter of fact. I’m just on my way to visit some friends.

What do your parents think about you hitchhiking? The man asked.

My parents are dead. She lied, hoping it would put an end to the questions.

Oh, you poor thing. The woman grimaced. Do you have any family?

No ma’am, it’s just me.

How old are you? The man asked through the rear-view mirror.

I’m eighteen. Although she would not be eighteen for another three years, she figured it was close enough and at least a legal age. Through the rearview mirror Sarah could see the man furrow his brow as he looked to his wife, neither said anything.

Sarah took note how clean their car was. They must not have kids, she thought, and from the clean smell of air freshener they aren’t smokers either.

We’ve been on the road all night and we’re going to stop for breakfast. Are you hungry? The woman asked, breaking the silence.

Sarah was hungry. It had been almost two days since she had anything to eat, except for the chips she was able to lift from the gas station. This reminded her why she cannot be hungry now… she had no money. No thanks, I’m really not hungry. She lied, again.

Well, if you’re sure. The man said.

Hunger was one thing Sarah was sure of, but she wasn’t going to confess it to this couple. She could feel the weariness of running weigh on her. She was tired of running and constantly looking over her shoulder. She lied so much about her identity, to keep safe, she began to forget who she even was. With every lie she re-created herself. She could be whoever she needed to be, and that meant anyone other than herself. This sometimes worked to her benefit, but with each lie, each exaggeration, she lost a little bit more of herself.

The highway was coming alive with traffic and the sun was beginning to peak over the mountains. The morning sun brought with it a promise of a new day and a reminder she made it through another night. The blue sign read Food Exit 21. The man turned his signal on and made his way off the highway onto the ramp. After a short right they pulled into the parking lot of a diner. There were only a few cars in the lot, but the smell of breakfast was strong in the air.

Sarah instinctively placed her hand on her stomach to stifle the growl, the smell of food was stirring her hunger pangs. She remembered one time she passed out from hunger. It was in an abandoned building, a flop house, where homeless and street kids took shelter at night. She felt someone lift her and carry her to a couch. As she was coming to she heard someone ask if they should call an ambulance. No, I’m OK, don’t let them call an ambulance. She whispered to the person who carried her to the couch. She knew there were others there that didn’t want to be found either and a call to 911 would clear the place quickly.

She’s coming to. She heard a male voice. She figured it was whoever carried her. You OK?

Yea, I’m OK. She forced herself back to consciousness. She had gone without eating for so long there were no longer any hunger pangs to warn her. She was slowly starving. This was a wakeup call for her, and soon after, she learned several tricks to survive on the run, like how to get food and a change of clothes. Although she never felt good about stealing, she reasoned with herself it was for survival. One of her biggest fears was that she would die and no one would know who she was and then she would be buried in a grave marked Jane Doe in some potter’s field.

She wished she could buy something to eat. It would be impossible for her to dine and dash with the couple sitting next to her; another trick she learned on the streets.

The man parked the car under a tree in the far corner of the lot and then turned off the ignition. Sarah grabbed her backpack, assuming this was as far as the couple was going to take her. The woman turned to face her, You can wait here and rest if you want to.

Are you sure you don’t mind? Sarah was amazed a stranger would