excerpt of runaway

Ada sat in silence against the wall. The voice was silent as well. She slowly shook her head. This place was going to be a nightmare. She would be stuck here, and she wouldn’t be able to leave this room. She’d be alone for the rest of her life, through her sixteenth birthday, through her adult life. She’d never marry. She’d never even find love. She’d never kiss anyone. Never become an actress. Never make it big. Never know what it feels like to have cameras on her all the time.

Oh, God, she’d never meet her idols. She’d never get to tell her mother she loved her again. She’d never visit India again.

But she needed to stay strong. That’s what her mother would tell her. “Stay strong, Baby. You can get through anything if you just put your mind to it.”

She was sitting on the floor, running her fingers through her hair and mumbling reassuring words in to herself in Hindi, things her mother always told her, when the door opened.

“Are you going insane now?”

Ada looked up to find a woman with shoulder-length, waving red hair staring at her. The woman looked ready to go to court, in a pinstriped black pantsuit and pumps. The briefcase dangling from her fingers certainly didn’t help that appearance.

“Come on, then. Up, off the floor. We’ve got business.”

Even though she didn’t want to obey, Ada felt she had to. She rose to her feet with difficulty as he body shook with the effort it took to refrain from crying. The woman waited for her to walk to her, then took her by the shoulder. She was directed to the table and pushed into one of the chairs.

Miss Lawyer, as Ada had finally dubbed her, slammed the briefcase down on the table with a loud smack. It made Ada flinch. “Now, now, down to business. Ada Ramakrishnan. Age fifteen. Your mother is Kumara Ramakrishnan, divorced but keeping his name. Your father’s name was Anish Ramakrishnan, and he recently committed suicide while in crippling debt. Over things he bought you.” She slammed a file shut, then looked up at Ada. Her lips were pursed and bright pink. The muscles in her face were tight. The piercing blue of her eyes, though, chilled Ada right down to the bone. The expression she wore was one of contempt, made of ice and out to kill. “How do you feel, knowing that? How do you feel knowing you killed your father?”

Ada stayed silent. Her body shook harder. The tears wanted to come, but she wouldn’t let them. This woman could not get to her. These were empty words she was throwing at her.

“Huh, Miss Ramakrishnan? How does it make you feel that you murdered your father?” When Ada didn’t speak, the woman stood and walked to the other side of the table. “He was just an innocent man. He loved you. He loved you, but he didn’t have that much money. You plunged him into debt for what? Make up? Clothing? Designer labels so you could look popular in your first year of high school?” Her mouth was right next to Ada’s ear. Hot, rancid breath raked over her face. “How does it make you feel? What did you do to him to make him hang himself in his bedroom just before his house was foreclosed, taken by the bank? How do you feel, knowing that your father could have been out on the streets, dying because of you?”

“IT MAKES ME FEEL HORRIBLE!” Ada shouted. The tears were streaming down her cheeks now, and she stood quickly. The chair she had been in seconds ago fell to the carpet, making virtually no sound whatsoever. “It makes me want to kill myself, but I’m too chicken to. I’m too scared to. I killed my own father with just one- one touch, just because I wanted some clothes.”

The woman’s grin was wolf like. Every tooth looked sharper than it truly was. It looked like she wanted to rip Ada’s throat out.

But she didn’t. She just leaned down and picked up the chair. She set it upright, pushed Ada back down into it, and made her way to her chair again. Every movement was fluid and predatory. Ada’s alarms were going off but she couldn’t do anything about it. She was wracked with guilt, her fingers wiping frantically at her cheeks. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t feel this way. To feel this way was to die inside, and after that episode it was worse. It was tenfold.

“Thank you for giving me what I wanted and needed.” The woman sat back in her seat. “I’m Michaela Smith, Miss Ramakrishnan. I’ll be working with you while you’re here.”