I coud not live in a house with a murderer. I was in danger and had to flee, fast. Lucky for me, Mothers address was on the letters:
Flat 1 312 Lausanne Rd, London N8
I packed my snacks, my book, and my pet rat Toby, and made my way to the train station. I had to ask for directions so many times, even if I knew where I was going. I hated feeling lost. Father always told me to always go to a woman if you needed help, because men are more dangerous, and don’t care for children as much as women do. So I stopped almost every woman I see, even if it was to ask a question I already knew the answer to. I was scared and alone. I had never been on a train. I didn’t want to get on one now, but I had no choice.
I bought my ticket with Fathers credit card that I stole. It was a pain to find the right platform. There were confusing signs and large crowds of people. The air felt so heavy, and if I didn’t sit down on a train soon, I might have thrown up again, and then an adult would have helped and seen that I was running away, and then would have called the cops and Father would have came and gotten me, and I’d have to go home with him. I did not want any of this to happen, so I tried to prevent attracting anyones attention.
After what felt like a decade-long process, I finally got on the train. I found the nearest seat and immediately started “doing groaning”. I hated the loud noises of the trains horns, and the jolt of the train when it first took off. I hated the people staring at me and I hated that I was attracting attention to myself, but I couldn’t stop groaning. My mind felt like it was overflowing and I even tried doing equations, but it didn’t help.
Finally we reached the stop. After asking for more directions from women in the city, I was able to find mothers apartment complex, just before sundown. I rang her bell many times, but didn’t get an answer. This made me panic, and the air got heavy again. I wanted to do groaning, but there was nowhere to sit. I was so tired and hungry, and now, I was going to be homeless.
But then I heard her voice. I didn’t think I would recognize it, since I don’t remember what she sounded like, but I did. Hearing it made me feel like I was pushed back in time, but that was impossible. I felt like I was at home when I heard her.
She saw me and immediately pulled me into an embrace. She was shocked and in disbelief, and was crying. I didn’t know how to act, so I just stood there while she held me. Again, I didn’t miss her, because I didn’t have much memory of her. But I was happy she was alive. I told her everything, about Wellington and my A-level exam, about my fight with Father and how I found the letters and how I thought she was dead. She was furious when I told her that, but didn’t show it because she was so busy apologizing for leaving and never visiting. I forgave her, partly because I was never mad at her over that anyway (she was dead to me, how can I be mad?), and partly because I think thats what you do with mothers. Forgive and love, regardless of what they do.
Mother warmed me up some food, gave me some of Mr. Shears (I’m allowed to call him Roger) old clothes to wear, and made a bed for me on an inflatable mattress. I went to sleep with her eyes on me and her gentle fingers playing with my hair. I felt safe and didn’t feel any panic inside of me. Whatever problems I had just seemed to drift away. In that moment, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time; peace.
I’ll write again soon.
Christopher Boone
Christopher Boone 