Run For Your Life

By Amethyst Turner

You can run but you can't hide

You can search but you won't find

You can press but I won't confide

In you

I'll do

What you ask me to

But don't look for me

I'm gone.

XXX

Every day, it got worse.

Richard found himself stuck in an endless loop that was impossible to cut short -- the moment he stepped away from it, the pain would get in again. And so, like a hamster imprisoned in a plastic ball, he continued in his cycle, never pausing to question it long enough to stop.

Eight six packs used to last him about a week. Now, he needed twelve to get from Sunday to Wednesday.

He found it easier to think about other things when he was drunk. When he was sober, all he had space for in his mind was his daughter. Drunk, he could forget his pain for a moment.

And out of this revelation was born the vicious cycle. If he could forget the pain for a moment, why not forget it for good.

Even when he got fired from his construction job in late April, he was too drunk to care. "Good riddance!" He'd shouted. "I'm getting the fuck outta here.

Of course, beer costed money and money was one benefit of having a job. And most jobs were biased against drunk applicants. So yet again, he was stuck.

So he did the only thing he could think of: applied for welfare and went to find the people with the dirty money.

XXX

Davey was between feeling excited and feeling sickened by his own actions.

Clark sat on the floor in front of him, scolding him with his milky eyes. They said, what are we doing here? It was a good enough question, one Davey had asked himself as well.

Arkansas was one of those states that he realized he hadn't thought about in ten to fifteen years. Hell, Chicago was more of a state than Arkansas. And why was it spelled like that? What kind of sense did this little middle of nowhere state make?

But, if Arkansas was where Brunson Travelling Circus would be stopping next, so would Davey.

He stared at the back of Stephen's head, again thanking the Taxi God that the man was cheap enough to forget the dog for an extra fifteen bucks. Over the course of the journey from Maryland to Little Rock, Davey learned a great many things about the cab driver, including (but not limited to) the fact that he had nine kids, all from different mothers, was totally down and out and still paying child support, wanted to be a french teacher but never got his degree, and had an abnormal passion for golf.

Davey was more than a little relieved now that the destination was within sight. He'd spent the time when Stephen wasn't talking reviewing Amethyst Turner's case file. Memorizing her face so that he'd know her when he saw her.

Sure, proper procedure would have been to report his findings to the police and them get to Arkansas with their own gas money, but Davey didn't see the point. He could do this himself, couldn't he?

Deep inside, he knew the real reason, though. Every time he looked at that picture of Amethyst Turner, all he could see was himself as a little boy in unwashed clothes, stumbling around a broken home with shards from beer bottles stuck in his heart.

He needed to get to her before the police did. The department would send her back home and close the case, problem solved, crisis averted. Davey didn't know exactly what his plan was, but he knew he needed to do this. Maybe he couldn't save himself, but he could save Amethyst.

"Shit," he exclaimed suddenly, winning a yelp from Clark. Oh, damn. He'd totally forgotten to call Annelise. She was going to kill him. All the way from Maryland. With the sheer power of her mind. In fact, he was impressed he was still alive at all.

Yanking his phone out of his back pocket, he saw what he'd feared: a never ending row of missed calls and a barrage of angry texts.

He mentally kicked himself for leaving his phone on silent.

It was almost seven thirty at night. Usually, Davey would call home if he was going to be out this late. This time, it had completely slipped his mind. He'd been too wrapped up in the case and being Stephen's therapist.

Davey unlocked his phone and dialed Anne's number as quickly as possible. It hardly rang for half a second before she picked up.

"Where the hell are you?" she demanded.

Davey smiled to himself. That was Anne, always wound up tighter than a spool of yarn. "Hey, Buttercup."

"Don't 'Buttercup' me," Anne snapped. "You said you'd be home by five. It's almost eight, you dipshit!"

"More like seven thirty," he mumbled. Clark gave him an accusing stare. That dog always sided with his wife. "I'm fine, Annie. Sorry I didn't call, though. It just . . . slipped my mind. This case is pretty intense."

She sighed deeply. "Who are you looking for?"

"A three year old girl," he answered. "We think she ran away with a traveling circus." He used the word 'we' because it suggested that he was actually following protocol and the police were with him.

There was a pause. "Where are you, Davey?"

He gave Clark a guilty shrug. He couldn't very well tell her he was in Arkansas, could he? "I'm gonna stay at the office tonight. I have a lot of work to do."

"Okay." Davey was shocked that she bought it. "I'll bring you some breakfast in the morning, alright?"

He winced. "Uh, no, that's not necessary. I'm taking off really early to work on the case. I might not see you until Thursday."

Davey tried to imagine her standing at the phone, rubbing her belly and wondering if Davey was every going to get his act together enough to be a good father. She said, "I kind of need you here, Dave."

He sighed. "I'll be home soon, babe. Real soon."

XXX

Amethyst didn't want to leave Tennessee. The air smelled cleaner there, like apple blossoms and freshly mowed grass. The natural perfume painted the state in a warm pink, wrapping Aimee in the blanket of thick, humid air.

Minka told her that Arkansas was cool, too, because it was spelled like Kansas but was pronounced like a hand saw.

Rubin showed her on a map how far she was from home. It made her feel jittery and weightless to know how far she'd flown without being followed.

Now that they were in Little Rock, she'd completely forgotten about Tennessee. Rubin and Minka were helping Persia and the ringmaster mount the tent, so she skipped around alone in the empty yellow field, Scrubbles in hand.

She was excited for the Little Rock show. Rubin said he would teach her how to juggle today so she could juggle the colorful little balls Breanna would toss in the air and catch in her mouth to make Aimee laugh on the tightrope.

Amethyst set her stuffed bear on the ground next to her bag, deciding that she would practice her cartwheels while she waited.

She found that if she kept herself busy, the fear could not get in. She was already beginning to forget what her father's face looked like. When she thought of him, all she could see was a hazy blob of a face and blue eyes. This was he extent of her memory of him.

Aimee did, however, find herself thinking about her mother quite often. As she was drifting off to sleep at night, she would sometimes find herself back in the drawer or the cupboard, falling back down the stairs, back in a hospital bed. She remembered her mother's face perfectly, and it haunted her dreams.

It was her worst fear: being taken back to her.

She watched Minka on the other side of the field. Minka wouldn't let them take her back, would she?

This was her family now, the circus was her home. And she could not have been happier with her new life.

XXX

Richard supposed it could have been worse.

He didn't like that he had to hide his new job, but hey, if that was what it took to put food on the table, he was willing to do it. Plus, he was thankful that this was a job he could work drunk or sober. His clients were much worse of than he was, anyway.

Drug dealers were supposed to be shady and dark, the kinds of people who hung around in dark alleys, the kind of guys people crossed streets to avoid. Richard wondered if this was how people saw him now.

He didn't necessarily feel that he was doing anything wrong. If these suckers wanted to take twenty five years off their lives, that was their own faults. Don't shoot the messenger, he told himself. All he was doing was delivering the goods.

The money he made working for the drug empire covered his beer and Libby's pills. What he had left was used for food and home supplies: toothpaste, toilet paper, fans for the summer. He thought sometimes of how rich he'd be if he didn't have to spend half his paycheck on alcohol.

Their fridge was packed with packs of beer, and the freezer was stuffed with stronger liquors: whiskey, scotch, vodka.

He told himself that once Amethyst came back, he would get clean and stop drinking for good. Part of him knew this wouldn't happen. The other part of him remained hopeful.

XXX

Minka had a built in excuse, which was that she was afraid of dogs.

This dog didn't seem so bad. It took heavy, lopsided steps and watched her with milky, tired eyes. It seemed docile enough. Still, Minka broke into a sweat the moment she laid eyes on it and her fear was furthered by the fact that the man holding the leash worked for the police.

Mumbling something about her fear of dogs, she scurried away to find Amethyst. Behind her, Minka could hear Rubin offering the man some coffee.

"Oh, no, I really have to get to work," the guy, Davey, he'd called himself, said.

"Come one," Rubin insisted, already turning on the coffee machine. "What's ten minutes? Tell me about your case, maybe I can help."

Thank god for Rubin.

Minka rushed through the hall, bursting into her trailer with a loud bang. Amethyst, sitting on the floor with her stuffed animals, jumped slightly, startled.

She knew what she had to do, but it pained her to think of it. There was no way Minka was going to let this man and his bloodhound find Amethyst. The little girl smiled at her, asked if she wanted to play. Minka shook her head, hoping Aimee couldn't see the tears in her eyes.

"Can you do me a favor, Kochanie?" Aimee nodded. Minka took a deep breath, lacing her fingers through the girl's hair. She knew this was dangerous, that the right thing to do would be to turn her in. But she knew she would never, ever forgive herself if she did that. Instead she told Amethyst, "We're going to play a game, okay?"

"Okay."

She swallowed hard, listening with half an ear to Rubin and the man down the hall. "It's like hide and seek, alright?" She said, trying to smile. "You see those woods out the window? You have to run away, as far as you can into the woods, okay?"

Aimee frowned at her, looking confused. "Can't we just play hide and seek in here?"

She shook her head, breath quickening as she heard the clack of the dog's fingernails on the floor down the hall. His owner was still talking to Rubin. "No, Kochanie. This game is really important, okay?" Minka's eyes filled. She wiped them on the back of her hand. "Here are the rules, alright? Number one, you have to run as fast as you can. Number two, you have to roll around in every puddle and patch of mud you come across. And number three, if I don't find you by the time the sun rises tomorrow, you come back."

Amethyst rubbed Minka's tears away with her thumb. "Don't cry, Minka," she said, a small smile falling on her lips. "I'll go easy on you."

She shook her head. "No, Aimee. You can't go easy on me. Go as fast as you can, alright? Can you do that for me?"

Her face settled into a troubled expression. "Alright," she said slowly. "You'll find me, right?"

Minka nodded. "Yes I'll find you."

XXX

I notice that my opponent is always on the go, and
Won't go slow, so's not to focus, and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide, as long as
They go fast from whence he came
But he's no good at being uncomfortable, so
He can't stop staying exactly the same

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

-Extraordinary Machine, Fiona Apple