It was sometime in May out in Colorado, we were very high into the mountains where it still snows way into April, sometimes even May we would wake up to frost covered lawns.
We had very little money, one shitty government cell phone, no tent and everyone around us was a stranger.
After crying my little eyes out and exposing his friend Tom from helping us get badly addicted to meth and without even a seemingly worried response he dropped us off in downtown Pueblo. It hurts when you have “it” so bad that not even your father has any remorse or I’ll will about leaving his youngest daughter without any means of shelter or food, and none in the foreseeable future.
I’m not going to lie, those first few days out there were rough. That first night we spent wandering the streets searching for somewhere to lay our heads and we ended up in the middle of a tall grassed field spooning ever so close together in any attempts to keep warm. We had no blankets or anything so we bundled in our hoodies as best as we could. There was frost on the ground, we could see our breath and I could feel Chewie’s tiny body shivering against my bare belly.
The following morning we took an Uber from Pueblo to Colorado Springs, where the temperature was slightly warmer. We used what money we had left to purchase some food, a tent and a sleeping bag.
Outside of the Walmart pulls up a white Ford Bronco with a busted out rear passenger window. The driver, a man, asks us if we need a ride and after our miserable night we accept just to be somewhere safe and warm for a little bit. With no destination in mind we just said we needed to get Memorial Park.
After a few minutes it became no surprise to my own discovering this man also happened to be a meth addict. We ended up in that SUV, stuck with the man, for 4 whole days. I remember him pulling over on mother’s day and I called my mother to wish her a happy day and when I hung up he was juggling around knives and guns and all sorts of weapons. Whenever we went to suggest leaving he’d make a point to flash one of his guns or knives at us to make sure we knew we weren’t in control.
He had us driving all around town looking for some more meth to buy. I sold one of my cellphones at the eco kiosk at Walmart. One night he managed to convince Chris to have him pull over at a Dunkin Donuts parking while the two of them broke into a lot full of 18 wheelers to attempt to steal one of the batteries from the truck. After realizing how next to impossible it would have been to successfully grab a battery and make it back to the SUV without drawing attention to themselves, they returned back to the SUV.
After we were able to acquire some more meth the man became really scary. He started accusing us of stealing his weapons that were on his person the whole time. He’d pull over abruptly to do inventory after inventory of said weapons. He was just doing very unnecessary things to see if he could get a reaction out of Chris but he was definitely getting one out of me.
I started thinking of ways to escape because I was starting to lose faith that Chris ever was. We tried to leave a few times because we were tired and hungry, not to mention uncomfortable, but he wasn’t having it.
Finally his eyelids got heavy and he pulled over so we could all take a small nap. I was in the back seat with Chewie quietly gathering our belongings and getting ready to make our getaway.
I tapped Chris’ shoulder and made a motion towards the door to indicate that I was going to make a run for it and before I did I grabbed my knife and I slammed it inches deep in the meat of the man’s upper arm. Before he could properly react we opened our doors, grabbed as much as I could took chewie and made a run for it.
That first night on the streets of Colorado Springs all hopped up on meth and terrified for our well-being we found a ditch behind a bunch of department stores and we pitched our tent.
The next week after that was spent religiously panhandling near Memorial Park by 25. We’d make enough to eat and buy some meth. We had to keep a lookout to make sure the guy in the white Ford Bronco doesn’t find us.
The only plan we made was a mutual agreement to get back to the East Coast, nowhere in particular but I had to be within 300 miles of the Atlantic Ocean. We swore we were getting followed. How many people drive around in a white Ford Bronco with a back window busted out?
Just to make sure it wasn’t the guy we would go way way out of the way to find tent spots so secluded that you’d have to climb a small mountain at night to get to us. Somewhere we’d be able to hear someone coming from miles.
Finally, one day we got approached by a man who volunteered with a church ministry helping homeless youths and young adults get off the streets. This man really wanted to help but they were only able to buy me a bus ticket because I was a female I held top priority in their minds. Chris, having to find his own way made contact with Amusements of America and then we were heading to New Jersey to work the next carnival season.
Allie Willey 