The Wanderer | Teen Ink

The Wanderer

December 4, 2013
By Brandon Gooch BRONZE, Millville, New Jersey
Brandon Gooch BRONZE, Millville, New Jersey
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I stood on the overpass; I see the headlights of the car speeding below me. I turn around and stick my arm out and give thumbs up. Waiting for a car to be generous enough to take me somewhere, anywhere but here. I do this every time, but I can’t control I black out. All I know is when I wake up, people are hurt, badly. I can’t afford to be seen around here anymore, I have to leave…again. I have to move almost every month at this point. I look to see a car pulling over to the side. I walk toward it but it takes off, I see the faces of teenagers in the car laughing. As they take off, I get splashed from a puddle they drove through. Eventually I decide its hopeless to stand on the highway in the dead of night. I start to walk down the overpass, when I see a cop car. I don’t remember where I was before what happened this time; all I know is the guy was almost dead. I hope I cleaned the finger prints off the phone good enough, shouldn’t have done that! No, if I hadn’t called the police I would’ve been a killer. The cop car passes, and the weight of the world is off my shoulders. Its getting worse, at first it was a bruise or two and now its traumatic injuries. I’m worried that next time I blackout, I’ll… no. If I think about it it’ll only get worse. I reach the exit, and start to roam the city looking for a bus stop, or a subway station, anything that will take me out of here. A taxi passes, I hold my hand up and he slows down. “Where to buddy?” the driver asks.


“Anywhere.” I say, and then drift off.


When I wake up, the taxi is flipped and the driver is nowhere to be found. I crawl out of the window of the taxi and look around. I check myself for cuts or bruises, none are to be found. I look around to try to find the driver. I scratch my head, to find it soaked in blood; I look at my hand. It looks as if I’ve dipped it in red paint; I take my jacket off and wrap it around my head. I see the driver crawling away, his legs are broken. They look like worms, just flopping around. I run up to him. “Hey! Hey! Stop I need to talk to you!” He looks at me with fear, and crawls faster. “What happened back there?” I ask.
“Get away from me!” the driver yells.
“I need you to talk to me about the crash!” I demand, I grab him by his shirt so he cant go anywhere. “What happened?”
“How do you not remember?”
“Just talk, I’ll get you help if you talk!” I yell.
“You were asleep in the back seat, next thing I know your hands are around my face, you bashed my head on the window then I swerved of the highway.”
I let go of his shirt, and get the phone from the center console of the car. 9-1-1, I dial the number and put the phone on the hood of the car. “Where are you going?” the driver of the car asked.”
“Anywhere but here.” I reply, it seems I’ve been saying that a lot lately.
I climb my way through the brush, and reach the highway. Its cold, really cold, I take my jacket off my head. It seems its slowed down a lot, if not stopped. I hear sirens in the distance, I walk the other direction. I hear them growing louder, and jump into the woods. It’s to dark for me to even establish a good picture of my surroundings. I feel around, and then decide to sit on the ground; I lean my back against a tree and tie my jacket around my arms and fall asleep.
When I wake up, I thank god I’m still tied to the tree. I untie myself and begin to walk a trail I found in the woods, it leads to a park. I see children playing, swing on the swings, and climb across the monkey bars. I think back, when I was normal, when I could go somewhere and not have to worry about me waking up and people being hurt. I look to see a man approaching the bench. “Wonderful day we’re having.” The man says.
“Sure is.”
“So which one’s yours?” the man asked.
“None, just got done a walk, figured I’d sit and take a breather.” I reply, trying to make a believable lie quickly. The man opens a newspaper and starts to read it. I see a headline, “Man found almost-dead in alley, perpetrator still on the loose.” I see the photo of the crime scene, and I realized, I haven’t gotten far enough. I see an advertisement at the bottom of the paper, “Ferry ride across the bay?” I say aloud by accident.
“Yeah, its quite fun for the family actually. Takes you right over to Delaware.” The man replies.
“Do you know when the next ride is?”
“They send a boat out every 3 hours, so probably, 45 minutes from now.” The man says, taking a quick gaze at his watch.
“Where do they dock?” I ask.
“Cape may, you’ll see a few signs. Those will lead you right to it.” The man answers, he hasn’t taken his eyes off the paper through out this whole conversation.
“Thank you.” I get up and start walking again. I find a taxi and tell him where to go. “Step on it, we got 45 minutes.” He takes my cash then drives. I think about what I will do when I get to the other side. Probably just try to find some specialist on the other side of the country, hopefully they wont recognize me, or more importantly my issue. The man pulls up to the dock, “Thank you!” I yell then run to the boat. It leaves in 5 minutes, I look at my watch. I run like a wild man and get to the loading area. I get on and sit down at a table in the dining area. I wait till the boat takes off. The sway of the ocean, the push and pull of the waves, I start to drift off, no I tell myself. Fighting the urge to fall sleep, but I cant fight it, I lay my head on the table and fall asleep.
When I wake up, no one is hurt, no one is running away, and no one is attempting to contain me. Everyone is looking at me funny, I start to panic. As I walk through the boat, people stop and stare at me. I become anxious, I run to the end of the corridor. Then I pass a mirror, I look back at myself, and laugh. I have a big red spot on my forehead from my arm when I was sleeping. But I wonder why I didn’t attack anyone; I think. Was it the position I slept in? Was it the duration of my sleep? Was it the ocean?
We get off the boat and the police are at the bottom, the man I attacked with them. I don’t fight, just cooperate. They take me in to custody and I end up in a psychiatric ward. I’m still here, but they say this is fixable, until then. I’m stuck here, but just until then.


The author's comments:
I wrote this for a school assignment, but i may continue this into a series dependent on the feed back i get.

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