Escape

Shortly before my graduation from high school, I had received news that I had been accepted into each university I had applied to, save one. I had also been offered a scholarship, although the scholarship wasn’t enough to carry me through college. I was reassured by my financial advisor that I could get enough federal assistance to get me through college – as long as my mother submitted forms proving her income status (and, therefore, proving my need for assistance). I carefully filled out each of the federal assistance forms. I checked and double checked each box carefully to make sure everything was filled our correctly. The only portion left was the one in which my mother had to sign in order to declare her income. I brought the forms to my mother and showed her the section she would need to complete. She looked at the form and rolled her eyes. “I’ll take it with me to work so I can get the income forms,” she said. “Okay, Mom. Its due in three weeks so I wanted to mail it by the end of this week so I can be sure it gets there in plenty of time.” “I’ll mail it, Emily,” my mother said sternly. My mother had grown increasingly agitated as the time for my departure to college drew closer. “I know how to mail things Emily,” she said, before slamming the front door. At the end of the week, I asked my mother if she had mailed the forms. She told me that she had.

About six weeks later, I received a notice in the mail telling me that I had not been approved for any funding this year and that I was free to re-apply next year. My hands began to shake. I ran to the phone and dialed the number. I hurriedly explained to the woman on the other end why I was calling. She asked me to calm down so that she could understand me. I told her there must have been a mistake. She accessed my file while on the line and told me that they had received the forms over a week late. “But there has to be someway we can work this out! I’m leaving for college in a few weeks!” I said. “I’m sorry,” the woman said. “The form wasn’t even signed by your mother. We called the number she gave us several times to no avail. It’s just too late. You’ve missed the deadline – that money has been allocated to others now.”

An hour later, I was still sitting in the same spot, staring at the wall in my living room. I had not moved. I should have done it myself. This is all my fault, I thought. I shouldn’t have trusted her to mail it in. All of my hard work - what am I going to do? I have no money. I have no where to live in Boston – my federal assistance would have paid for my dorm room. How could my future be falling apart so soon? What will my friends say? I was one of my high school’s best students – how could I be without a college to attend in the fall?

A few weeks later, I packed every possession I could fit into my car. I hugged my mother goodbye and began to drive. As I pulled onto the highway outside of my hometown, I was full of uncertainty. I had $1,259.00 to my name. I had no job. I didn’t have daddy’s credit card. I had no where to live, yet I was leaving. I took a deep breath and tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I drove – I doubted my future, my stability, my safety. I was scared. One thing I knew was that I had to leave – I had to escape the life I had, no matter how difficult it was to survive alone or how hard my family members tried to stop me.