Macey's POV

Writing your own story can be hard in the same way as narrating your life is. You're never in control- sometimes we have to accept that we are living of someone else's schedule. We have a choice over those who dominate our lives. That's why, I question what happened that night. Because there is no way the fates could have decided what's about to happen next.

Storms are a seemingly horrible thing, but 'de facto'—actually—they feed our life what we eat and what we decide. Again, the fates controlling whatever little choice we had left. Storms are in fact a chance to thrive, in a secluded area, introverted, completely alone. Another choice we have yet again decided for us even before we were born. Is whether we are introverted or extroverted. Meaning is that we either like or dislike socialising especially with new people. Chosen by some unknown being or creation, similar ourselves. So, as it rains I sit on the couch staring at the droplets race each other. My 'parents' are scattered around the room. My dad folding the laundry and my mum rubbing my feet while scrolling through her iPad.

This may sound ridiculous and cliché but it's true. We do have our life planned out based on our abilities and preferences. Some people do break out of their fates and determine that the impossible is not so far out of reach. And I am determined to be one of those people. School is a necessary thing decided by someone high up on the ladder of status. Created to make the lives of innocent people, students and teachers alike suffer. Suffer through classes on end. Where you don't even pretend to look interested and the teachers only sort of pretend to do their job. The lunch hour when everyone is rushing around talking – mental shivers – and shouting. People will be calling out my name only when, the world is ending but, even then will I remain untouched and unloved. Those who I thought were my friends, betrayed and left me to be consumed the reality of life all together. The bell rings piercing my thoughts. It's cry, one for help.

Class isn't exciting, people next to me grab out their phones. The teacher glances their way before turning back to her own phone. It's ridiculous that the education here is poorer then the state of hygiene in the bathrooms. Stating that would be a leap trust me but it's true.

Buses. They are the bane of my existence, the fact that you sit shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers, Ugh. Instead of catching these awkward, germ ridden hell houses, I walk. So, on the way home cars whizz by and splash me with whatever water is left on the road, which isn't much. I see a few people from school but turn away – and even once around – so I could avoid their stares and odd looks. I don't have any friends at school, so I doubt that they'll notice me. My lack of friends at school leaves me feeling somewhat bereft. The absence of something so essential to teenage life weighs down on you more than you'd think. It's not like I'm dying without any, but it would be nice to have friends on which to rely on. Listening and observing has become a second nature to me. Home is the place where I live, the place where I can be myself not that I'm ever not me. being me is easy but at the same time I am never really me at school. It's a very philosophical subject to embrace. Philosophy is another random thing I waste my time on. These are the sought of things about when I am alone, excluded from the world. There's a big difference in the words alone and lonely. Not that many people understand the difference. Alone means having no one else present. But lonely means: sad because one has no friends or company. Sitting on the couch at home with my knees to my chest, mug in hand, I stroke the worn front cover of my book. when I turn the cover over & I admire the cursive hand writing of my mother.

"Dear Mae,

I wish for you that when you blow out these candles and will wish for something to take to the future with you. It may sound as though I am pushing you to impossible feats, but you are capable of achieving these things. No message can finish without at least one or two clichés so I will say this. 'Reach for the stars and the impossible.' I love you, never forget that. I know it's been hard the last few months . With your father in jail, but you never stop amazing me with a positive attitude. And a gorgeous smile. I will remember you for your smile, even if all else fades. 'You light up my world like nobody else'

Happy 13th birthday, Love MUM."

Her words ring through my head. That was the last birthday present I got from her before she went missing. I have scanned this page many times getting nothing, not even a clue from it's very not-cryptic message. A single tear slides from my face making sound as it drops into my coffee. The only thing I know for sure is that I will be one to achieve the impossible.

Deciding this I put down the book not progressing through a single page. I get up, my 'parents' still aren't home but there was something I could do. RUN. I know it sounds ridiculous 'you were talking about impossible feats and all that jazz' well... running is my way of dealing with stress and my thought spirals. So, pulling on my gear and grabbing by stopwatch I head to the school's oval. Before I start, I put the watch on the ground and start it. While running I only run I don't have any thoughts in my mind except counting my steps 1,2,3,4,1,2,3,4 again and again and again. Over and over until my lungs start constricting and my head start to spin. After running three kilometres worth of circles, I stop back at my bag and press some buttons on the timer. 15 minutes. That sound fast but the only sport I'm good at is cross country. that and academic stuff. I can keep my head above the water in a pool. I can't throw or catch anything. After considering how angry my 'parents' will be, I decide face the problem of being grounded later. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. A personal favourite saying of mine. OH NO, out of the corner of my eye, I see my parents there facing look like they're fuming with rage. They shout out across the road, 'confess now and suffer less.' What are they on about, oh! The run 'look I'm sorry I didn't mean to leave the house I needed to.' 'Confess now and suffer less' they yell again, still closing in on me. Talons blared they jump. I mean actual talons and claws coming out of their actual fingers. I run, I sprit. I don't stop I don't look to see where I'm going. Crashing into everyone and everything knocking over innocent bystanders in my path. People shout at me, but what they say is lost in the sound of the wind blowing past my ears and the sound of my heart. Pounding in my chest. I am running when suddenly my surroundings change to become Long Island. The uninhabited strawberry farm. Why, what, when, how, who? Words run through my mind until I can't take it anymore. Standing at the top of that hill looking up at the pine I can't take it anymore. My lungs are aching and my throat is dry. My whole body is covered in sweat. After examining myself all over, I'm sure there is no injury I pass out.

The next thing I see is people hovering over me and someone shouting. 'Give her some space', a head comes into focus through the blur. His raven hair and sea-green eyes is the last thing I see before I wake again. The face is inviting and beautiful, who he is, I also wonder his relationship status. A ridiculous thought yes but one I can't control. Although I'm unconscious these thoughts pollute my brain. Until I wake up in a room with white ceilings and walls. No decorations except a rainbow pride flag.