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It all started during the holidays. My family went to visit their biological grandmother this winter. My dad had met her at my mother's recommendation because the elderly woman had asked for my family to visit her when we were home over Christmas. It was high time to meet her because my family hadn't seen them in years. They had moved back to the hometown in summer and the grandmother was too elderly to travel and meet her family in person.
This was probably why my family decided to visit her. They were a huge family: she had about thirty grandchildren, seven of whom were girls. My cousin, the middle granddaughter of the grandmother, was not there and I was glad for that. The last time I had seen her she was incredibly mean to me, actually she was rude to me because I was the youngest and the smallest of them all. I had been very keen on meeting my cousin though, because she was always the last word in anything fashionable. The thing was, that the grandmother told us she wasn't coming because she was afraid we were not used to her.
I wanted to see her, and therefore, I began to plan an escape. I made a hole in my pocket and put one of my bags from my school in it. It would act as a receptacle for my affairs I'd be leaving behind. Only thing I had to do sometimes was to fill up something inside it. For example, the spare tissue I had in my bag and secretly kept in my pocket was something I put inside of the bag when I ran out of bag paper. I was not in love with the school or the teachers, but I had to keep my bag secure and I had a lot of things to carry in it. If I was going to escape, I couldn't be emptying the bag all the time. I tried not to hurt the bag as I crammed it in my pocket.
I began to plan my escape. I looked at my parents; they were insisting that grandmother had some health problems and it was not absolutely certain that she would come. I agreed with them. My sister was also in disagreement, because from the moment I had spent one night at their places, the grandmother had been behaving very strangely.
My exact plan was that I would take my bag and leave it in the car's boot. My sister would keep the car keys in her bag, and I would take the keys as well. Not only would I have the car keys to run away in a minute, but I would also have my bag filled with all the stuff I needed to use when my flight arrived in a week. The thing was, that it was not my own car. We had my sister's car, which was her parents' in the first place and therefore, the car was my sister's.
There was in the car seat of the car, a large, hideous handbag my sister used to carry everything she needed when on vacation. She was terribly fond of the bag and we kids, including me, had been telling her we were not good enough crafters to embroider something in it. I tried to embroider a big alphabet on the bag when I was home with my family last summer, after all, I was a good painter, but he grandfather gave me a backhand slap for my attempts. The moment that I was trying to embroider the letters on the handbag, I knew why my grandfather had slapped me. I was not allowed to touch the things my grandparents had.
Anyway, there was still one thing I needed to do: I had to find out what was in the huge bag. I needed to make sure that my grandfather would not move somehow and touch the things in there. In order to do so, I decided I would get the bag from my sister, and I would take it to the grandma's house.
After some minutes of wishing I had some 'treasures' in there, I would grab whatever I could. I made up my mind and we decided to go to the grandmother's place.
I headed to my sister's house first.