Here you can read two exemplary short stories referring to the great topic “run away” – one out of the view of a 16-year-old girl and a second one out of the view of a mother whose daughter ran away.

On the one hand these stories shall make you understand the thoughts of desperate youngsters who do not know how to handle with their problems properly and on the other hand the second story shall help you to receive an impression of the feelings of despaired parents as especially their point of view is left out in the cold frequently.


No way out

The bell rang highly-pitched through the whole house. Caren dashed down the stairs, crossed the friendly furnished living room and answered the phone in the very nick of time. It was Carens mother and she wanted to remind her daughter of taking the dishes out of the dishwasher and of wiping the floor in the kitchen. Caren who was absolutely stressed out and annoyed replaced the phone furiously and stood in the middle of the room, gazing into space.

The 16-year-old Caren, being in quite a rebellious phase, was dissatisfied with the whole situation she had to deal with: Her parents, especially her mother, came home late in the night, they scarcely spoke with each other, Caren had to accomplish a heap of housework and moreover her marks at school became worse. Much worse. She didn't even know, whether she would be able to pass this school year.

She couldn't stand it any longer and she only wished to travel all over – to forget her problems. So she decided to run away like hundreds, nay thousands of teenagers did it every year.
She didn't even have to hurry up; her parents came home in some hours at the earliest. She caught her rucksack, packed in an electric torch, some pullovers, instant soups, her purse and other things which she would certainly need.

Without any hesitation she left her parental home and went to the underground station, intending to go to Stepney, Tower Hamlets as she thought it would be easy to find a cheap and also comfortable apartment in one of the rented flats there.
But unfortunately she had to acknowledge that she would only be capable of paying the rent for a couple of days and in addition she had to buy food and beverages.

The first thing she did in her new life was going to a supermarket in order to buy some bottles of water, apples and maybe some chocolate. While she was going through the supermarket shelves schlepping a great rucksack, the other people looked irritated and whispered secretly. Caren was aware of that they were mumbling about here but she didn't dissemble her own precariousness.

Caren left the supermarket and went into a park. It was yet 6:38 pm and her parents would come home in nearly half an hour. She imagined how they would react and she was sure they wouldn't notice her absence. So Caren sat on a bench in a park and thought about a place where she could sleep but nothing came into her mind. The only solution she saw was sleeping under a bridge like dossers do.

It became dark and a frigid wind blew furiously around her. She got a woolen blanket out of her rucksack and put it over her shoulders. The murkiness descended upon her and she fell asleep on the bench. She dreamt about her parents who were joking and laughing a lot. In her dreams they also didn't care about her daughter and Caren felt like absolutely everything went wrong in her life.

Out of a sudden she awoke and she was blended by the light of a torch – she wasn't able to identify anything but she felt that she was in great trouble now.

written by Patrick Obermeier




She left me

I always knew she would run away from home. She had great problems with her stepfather Mike and especially with her stepbrother Ian, who was two years older than she was. Ian insulted her as she was a bit corpulent and even though I permitted him to do this he kept on offending her when I wasn't with them.

Since Ian behaved like this, Helen held me responsible for his unsocial conduct. On the one hand I felt myself liable for their arguments as I should have interdicted such quarrels but on the other hand they were 15 and 17 years old. As a matter of fact I thought they should know how to behave properly and I didn't want to keep watch and ward all the time like a broody hen.

But maybe this was my fault. Helen didn't come home today like she usually did at 4:00 pm. At first I didn't think anything of it because she often met with her new clique after school recently. I waited about one hour for her and slowly but surely I realised that something went wrong.

I began to quiver and the first idea which came into my mind was calling her friends. I phoned all of her best mates but nobody was able to say me were she was.

Anticipating the worst I ran upstairs into her room and opened her wardrobe – my anxiety proved well-founded, unfortunately.

The majority of her clothes were missing, her piggy bank was robbed; she left me without saying a word.

I was absent-minded, confused, furious but also deeply sad and disappointed. She left me. She didn't say anything. How much did she hate me that she did such a cruelty to me. I couldn't understand her.

I ran downstairs again, caught my car key and got in my car. Tears ran over my face and now my hands were awfully shivering.

Various scattered thoughts wandered through my mind: Her new friends! They made her take drugs! What if she took drugs now? My beloved daughter - addicted to drugs?

Or what if someone kidnapped her? She is only 15, she wasn't capable of defending herself against an adult! But if she was kidnapped, she wouldn't have taken all her clothings...

I drove to her school where she often met her friends but nobody was there. The whole school building was empty. I was at a loss. I drove to her friends' houses hoping that anybody could tell me about her but they didn't say a word again. Even Helen's teachers assured they couldn't imagine that Helen ran away. But deep down inside me I knew she ran away from home. She left me. And I let it happen.

It was 8:34 pm yet and I decided to drive home again. The house was empty as Mike and Ian were still working.

I sat on a chair in the kitchen and I was preoccupied in thoughts.

Out of a sudden the door bell rang and I got frightened.


written by Patrick Obermeier

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