A new story!? Yeah, so this plot bunny wouldn't leave my head and I wrote it, this is an AU story of the Everlark pairing. From the beginning it'll seem like a High school fic but it's more complex than that.
Oh and sometimes I'll put a song or poem at the beginning of the chapter if I want, I don't have one for this chapter however.
Okay, here's the first chapter of the story. Everything you need to know will be in the AN at the bottom.
Enjoy! It's over 6000 words in this chapter!
***This chapter is currently under revision it may be a bit different from the rest of the chapters***
You might be a big fish in a little pond
Doesn't mean you've won
'Cause along may come a bigger one
"Lost" by Coldplay
Chapter 1: Disarray
Katniss' POV
I walk down the sidewalk on my way to school, kicking a stone with the toe of my boot. The sun is rising into the sky by the minute. I wear some old jeans that are faded and ripped at the knees paired with an old gray t-shirt; both are a little tight on me but they will do. I won't go get new clothes until I absolutely have to.
I'm not completely broke, I just have to take care of myself with my job at Sae's, an old restaurant that somehow is still in business. I only work part time and truthfully I'd rather have food than nice clothes. Food is necessary for survival, in fashion clothes and apparel are certainly not. Besides, I'll be honest to myself right here right now, I know I don't eat enough, I know it's not healthy to have a few ribs jutting out and going to bed with a growling stomach, but it's enough because I survive.
Sae says I have a backbone unlike the other girls in this town but I'm not sure if that's true. Yeah, I do what it takes to get by but wouldn't everyone else do the same if they were in my place?
When I raise my head from the road I realize I still have another half a mile to walk before I arrive to school.
Today's a Friday, the last day of the week, always it has been a school day, nothing different. But, a new day of school means a new day of the insults, rumors, and hurt. I don't really think home is any better though with my abusive mother. I have a brother, Marvel, but he moved out when I was thirteen and I haven't seen him since. Not that I expected him to stay or even visit, we weren't close, especially when he began high school, it was like the final wedge drove between us.
My father passed away when I was eleven. Afterwards, my mother spent two years just sitting in her room blankly staring at the wall. She abandoned me. But then, when she did get up, it only became worse. That's when she began taking all her frustration out on me. That's when the hitting and screaming began, its when the bruises began to show and life went from miserable to unbearable. At least I could go home to get away from it all before, but that's not even possible now. Sometimes I find refuge in the woods beside the old falling apart convince store that Haymitch, an old drunk, owns.
I try to stay out of the house as much as possible, and away from school too, anyone from there as well. I can't skip school but I don't have to stick around any longer than needed. Besides, I'd rather be alone than with anyone, well that is if I had any friends still. But every single one of them are gone, no one wants anything to do with me. I could not even blame them on that one.
And really It's fine too, I don't need anyone. I can take care of myself, have been for the past three years, I won't start needing someone now. I'm just not sure what I'm living for, I believe it's some distant dream of being normal that's always somehow evaded my grasp.
Its still not quite near but I can hear it loud and clear, like the morning before and the one before that, the smooth purr of an extremely expensive car. I don't even look, I can hear almost tortuously, as it approaches. It comes to a halt next to me and she rolls the window down, "hey girls look, it's a stray slut," she smirks and giggles erupt from the girls. The car rolls beside me testing my patience. Pointedly I speed up my pace, but she the car keeps up with ease. With my eyes downcast I pick the threadbare strap of my backpack, I'd rather just be spit on than get words hurled at me.
"Why do you even bother with life? You're pathetic, you know it."
As if she suddenly transformed into someone caring and concerned for my well-being, she murmurs: "if anything ever happened to you I'd come to your funeral." I don't raise my gaze but fix my features into a scowl awaiting the nasty remark that is inevitable. "To celebrate the fact that you'd be gone for good!
"We'll throw a party just for you! Think about it. It'd be a good thing for everyone!" With a wave from her and the giggling girls in the car she drives off and I glare at the car until it's out of my sight.
Of course those insults used to hurt a lot, we have quite a past. All my life she was just another classmate, that is until we reached high school. Then like a snake, she latched into my life, her words full of venom and her actions containing a painful bite. It's not her words that harm, but later, I'll be cornered and shoved around and I'm dreading it. This happens almost everyday; any day she is absent from school is a blessing.
I made a promise to myself once things got worse. I shouldn't grieve my losses and troubles, I have to deal with it, life's like this, it's just the way it is. I haven't cried since I was eleven and I won't start now. Adapting is the way of survival in any case, I have done the same with this, these things cause sacrifices and a sudden change of life. You won't be the same, things may be harder, but at least you will be alright. Things may be bad right now but maybe not in years to come, that's what I hope for and cling to when things hurt the most.
This is how I look at it, I know this isn't much of a life I'm living and many in my position would've committed suicide but I just can't give up. I can't do that.
One day I will be free from it all, just not today. It will happen though, right?
But forget the future I'm stuck in the now, and in this second I just want to cherish every moment before I step through the school doors.
The bell's shrill ring is what pulls me out of my thoughts and automatically, like some kind of machine going through an old process I stand to leave the classroom. In front of me everyone crams together and rapidly squeezes out the door like the way water rushes out of a faucet, I stand waiting, watching ad they push each other aside and throw themselves out the door.
"Katniss, please stick around for a moment," the teacher, Mr. Crane calls from his desk in the back of the room louder than the rest of the chatter.
I sigh and drop back to the hard plastic seat behind my desk. My sudden excitement to leave for the library now turned to frustration because it will be delayed a little longer.
When I look up, I see the last student leave, as soon as they leave I'm called to the back. Here we go.
"Can you come back here for a minute so we may speak?" Mr. Crane calls from his wooden desk at the back of the room. It's said like a question but it's actually choiceless; a demand.
Sighing, I listen as the halls gradually get louder as it rapidly fills. I nod, removing my eyes from the floor in the process. I stand up, and walk to his desk, my footsteps sluggish.
Stopping in front of his desk I'm silent waiting for him to speak. I prepare myself for the worst. After all, math is my most disliked subject, therefore it is the one with the dangerously low grades.
"Katniss, I have noticed that your grades have dropped over the last five months, and I'm just wondering what has caused this? You don't even seem to try anymore. Has there been a problem? If there is, I'm always here to listen."
"Um . . . no sir, I'll try harder."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"Alright but if there is a problem, please come to me."
"Of course."
"Okay, you are free to depart."
I quickly walk out the door to find people are still clustered around the hallways and their loud chatter is deafening to the ears. However, it's much better than being alone in a startling silent classroom with a teacher.
From everyone else I stick out immensely, kind of like how a giant neon yellow sign would in a bland sea of black and white.
Some pull books out of their lockers. Others stand in groups to chat, a few boys flirt with girls and they giggle at their pick-up lines, some people rush through the hallways to class. Couples kiss and hang all over each other and some brave outgoing people even run through the hallways screaming about tonight's football game. Then there's me, standing to the side, by myself, carrying books, biting my lip, and dully looking at the ground while pushing my way through the crowded hall.
Some close friends of Glimmer, stop their to stop their conversations and stare at me in disgust. What else would you call those looks, they're definitely not admiration. Disgust seems about right.
No ones really too fond of me here, you see some higher-class girls pick on me, so guys follow wanting to impress the girls they think are good-looking. It's a viscous cycle. There's two sides of the town we live in the seam and the merchants, the poor and the rich. No, I did not have a huge reputation before, more like the plain one of an under-looked person, a nerd maybe. It was fine with me, in fact I loved it, maybe not then, but now I greatly wish I still had that. Back then, I felt like I was just ignored, that I was nothing; I still am overwhelmed by that feeling but now it's just become ten times more intense.
When math finished that means next will be free period, which I usually spend in the library, attempting lose myself in a book. But first I have to get there and away from all these people.
There's a familiar click of heels, then suddenly, I'm seized by the shoulders and roughly shoved down. I can't stop myself and I am slammed face-first into the cold hard floor, my books fly out everywhere. All I hear is the laughter, the taunting, the comments. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. My shaky arms push me up from the ground.
From down here I can see who pushed me down as she flips her honey blonde hair over her shoulder and laughs with them. She helped ruin my life and that just isn't enough? I stare daggers at her with my eyes, as if my burning look would be enough to set her on fire.
"Aw Kat-piss, what's wrong?" She says in a sickly-sweet voice that mocks her actually caring, and a few, unpleasant people find that old nickname still good enough to snicker upon hearing it.
That white hot anger, it's all I can see. I want to punch her in that pretty little face of hers. She will get it some day, I'll get my revenge but right now I'm weak, powerless, even. My head surges with the pain of the hit and my vision has the tell-tale black splotches in it.
I need to collect myself, get my stuff, and get away as fast as possible. This isn't the first time something like this has happened and it definitely won't be the last.
When I look up there she stands in front of the group laughing. She has on a white v-neck that dips down exposing her cleavage in an extremely risqué manner, along with a really tight pair of dark-wash ripped up jeans that haven't seen many wears at all. She has black high heel boots that are near six inches high and make her legs appear miles long. Of course the school has dress code but it only states that a girl cannot show shoulder or upper thigh, we cannot wear tank-tops or shorts outside of gym, however there is nothing about how low-cut a girl's shirt should be or how the pants should not be tight enough to stop blood-flow; Glimmer takes advantage of it.
Next to her is Clove and Finch, they laugh too and behind them is a crowd of people murmuring about a possible fight. I actually partially knew Clove and Finch at one time, even though that seems extremely impossible. However, knew holds a different meaning than know. We were childhood friends, we rode the bus together at a young age.
Slowly, the crowd begins to disperse after Glimmer leaves seemingly disappointed that they will not catch a fight today. Life goes as normal, they walk by clueless to the girl on the floor, nothing seems to capture their interest particularly, for now, at least.
I stack up my books, pile up my papers, and shove them back in their folders. My movements are rapid and furious, my headache is only beginning to subside. My blood boils in rage, angry is not even close to the right word to describe how I feel right now. The hallway feels too hot, my cheeks burn, my teeth are tightly clenched together moving slowly in an incessant motion.
And then, suddenly, a pair of blue eyes are looking at me, and when my eyes focus I see what is in front of me. A hand. Why is some boy holding his hand out to me?
I reluctantly eye his outstretched hand wondering if I should grab it or not. Could it be some trick? Or maybe, I highly believe it's not, but just maybe the boy was trying to help me up.
"I don't bite," he says in a somewhat humorous tone and his lips twitch up in the corners.
Still I look at the hand like a blazing piece of coal.
Hesitantly, I reach my free hand up to match his large one, he grasp mine and yanks me to my feet looking down at me with an enormous breath-catching smile. I scowl.
Now I do recognize him with his long sandy-blonde hair that seems to hang in his unmistakably blue eyes. He's popular with many squealing girls chasing after him, he holds some high position on the football team I believe. He's not as high as Glimmer status-wise but very close.
He begins walking with me, "Hi, my names Peeta Mellark." he says flashing me a small smile with a touch of white teeth.
"I know," I answer shortly looking at my shoes.
What's he doing with me?
Could he possibly be a player trying to get into my pants? He's definitely got the looks and reputation to be a player. After all, how much could you ask of someone when you have a life and reputation of mine. This is not normal for him to just talk to me. Where's the catch?
"What are you doing?" I ask bluntly.
"Just talking to you," he says plainly if it were surprisingly simple.
"No, no one just talks to me, then why would you?" I ask suspiciously silently questioning his motives. Something must be at play here.
"Why do you believe I have bad intentions?" He wonders while tugging on the hem of his shirt as if to straighten some invisible wrinkles.
"Why wouldn't you have bad intentions? Don't you know who I am? You're going to obliterate your reputation." Surely he's made some mistake, he won't be able to get a matching high-class girlfriend if he keeps this up, he'd be an outcast.
His eyes wander to mine before he replies. "Do you honestly think I believe those petty rumours about you? I can see who you are, actions speak louder than words. And everyone can't have bad intentions, you're just around the wrong people," he then scoffs, "my reputation," he chortles lightly with laughter, "I could care less about. If I choose to speak with you then it's nobody's business but ours." He says all this factually, hands in pockets following me as I walk. What scares me is for a second I actually believe him. He's convincing I'll give him that, but what he speaks is untrue.
"Besides," he continues gleefully, "you can never have too many friends and you look like you could use one."
"Why do you even bother, I am perfectly fine on my own," I mumble as an attempt to dissuade him.
"Sure you'd suffice without them but wouldn't you like to have someone to lean on if you need to, or even just talk to?"
"No, it'd be stupidity to trust someone and have them turn around and backstab you. In fact, it's common, I've seen it plenty of times." I allege staring directly ahead as I take longer strides toward the library.
"Katniss, not everyone would do that," he argues using my actual name. I haven't heard anyone call me by it for so long.
And the fact alone that he knows my name nags me, but I push it aside. He's just heard someone say it and now he's using it to empathize his statement.
I scoff at his words, openly showing him my disbelief.
"Oh that's probably the biggest lie I've ever heard," I say monotone while pulling my books to my chest and straightening my backpack on my shoulders.
"You think that now but soon you'll see." He replies softly and it shocks me slightly.
"I'll see what?" I ask slowing down a step.
"That not everyone is out to get you." He stares at my eyes for a few moments, his gaze is intense and his tone serious.
I brush him off.
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Good enough. Will I see you at the game tonight?"
"Nope, I never go to those things." The very thought of going makes me nauseous.
Mainly because the people who try to make my life a living hell are also there, my mind adds. But then I realize what I thought was only in my mind I said out loud to him.
No, no I didn't meant to say that! This time my thoughts are to myself.
He looks like he already knew this and looks a little rueful to me, "Yeah, I know."
I feel very awkward talking to someone and when I actually do this is what happens. I couldn't even contain my own thoughts. There's something wrong with me.
"But that's their problem, they stupid people with nothing better to d-"
I cut him off unwilling to hear anything else, he's convincing me to go to some stupid game. For what? To be mocked? Maybe it's some to stupid trap he and others rigged, let's lure a hated girl in so we can rip her to shreds and woo the hot ones. Shockingly, that scenario actually sounds pretty possible.
"I'm . . . um I'm going to go now." I stutter out sounding like a coward and quickening my step.
Before he can protest, I dart away at a near sprint and race towards the library unsure of anything that just happened.
The small, kind of friendly interaction leaves my chest feeling tingly for awhile after.
I quickly pull the five dollars off my dresser and shove it deep in the pocket of my jeans as the dented up a minivan pulls up on the driveway. I need to leave immediately before things go bad.
This time my mom has come home five hours after I returned home from school. Although I can never predict when she gets home so I can't exactly avoid it. She looks angry as she stumbles in the house, slamming the door behind her. I jump my heart beats fiercely and I feel my fight or flight instinct weigh heavily on my shoulders.
She drunk, it only makes everything worse, she's rougher and angrier when she's drunk. And right now, she's seething with rage. I can only watch doe-eyed as she approaches me, she blocks the door, which is the only exit of the house. It's as if time has been slowed down, and I can only watch as she steps closer and closer, the only sound is her shoes clicking on the floor and a deep drum-like pounding in my head as if my heart has somehow gone to my skull.
Her cold hand grabs me roughly by the shoulder and shakes me as she screams. I wince afraid of what's to come and waiting for it.
"Hey what have you done while I was gone!" She yells in my face, her breath smells like stale alcohol.
I struggle in her grip and try to get out of her clutches. But all chances if a quick pain-less escape is futile.
"Despicable! You're nothing, you'll never be anything! Nobody wants you, you stupid cow!" She shouts with a lisp shaking me roughly.
She screams shrilly, and brings her hand back and hits me on my cheek. It's so hard it brings a tear to my eye which I quickly wipe away before she can see it. When my eyes open I see her only inches from my face like some vicious dog snarling and foaming at the mouth.
"You stupid girl you're worthless, you never do anything!"
I quickly grab my black hoodie from the door and go out of my house sprinting down the road. At first I just run but when I finally put distance between us I look back, she stands on the doorstep screaming things I can barely hear and shaking her fist. But I know she'd never do something as crazy, stupid, and drastic as to pursue me, we may be out of sight of that other houses but they are not too far away. She's a mess, that hollow unfeeling woman who used to be my mother, she used to be a wonderful, modest, woman but now she's quite the opposite. I'm certain that she's gone insane but that's no excuse for her actions. Her hair used to be a long skein of yellow silk that everyone wanted to touch but now it's a matted pile on her head scraped into a bun that doesn't hide the knots. Her icy eyes were once a pool of love and warmth and joy and now their two cold blue stones, hard and emotionless and menacing.
And I'll admit this haunted version of her scares me to death. My mother is gone.
I just gulp down air and run harder. Faster, faster, I tell myself.
It's not like this is anything new. I always run when there's a problem. On the bright side it's a good thing I'm a fast runner, because it usually allows me to escape when I need to. Unluckily, this needing to get away thing is very often for me, I was fine for some time after his death but then the Glimmer problem started and well, my life sort of crumbled after all that.
I kind of just forgot how it felt to be loved, my father, he loved me. I don't doubt that for a mere second. But since then no one has wanted or needed me. I've only been shoved around by people who hate me and wish I were dead. Glimmer's right, I realize with a cringe I'd probably be better off dead. After all, in that case, I wouldn't have this anymore. They could spit on my grave and do whatever, it wouldn't effect me. I wouldn't feel the pain dead. But I can't take my life, I've come this far and I just can't stop now.
At this time I don't even know where to go but I just wander straight ahead like usual when I make a sudden escape. My mind is not working with my legs, but then again, my mind already has to much to worry about than something as simple as where should I roam off to. Anywhere is fine with me.
My cheeks are flushed from exertion as I finally slow to a walk and continue moving forward. I continue for at least twenty minutes as the sun sets and everything slows down, my heart still hammering in my throat, I take in my surroundings around me, only blackness illuminated by the full moon, the wind blows through the alley creating a whistling sound as it bounces off the walls and blows my loose hair around wildly. Maybe I should've braided it, but it is not at all a concern to me right now.
I keep walking and get to the school, I'm so used to walking here in the mornings I must have come this way without much thought. There I see the football game in the distance. The one he's in, that strange boy who had the nerve to speak to me today.
And I'm so curious that I resume step by step down the sidewalk until I arrive at the silver chain-link fence. I push my body onto it and my fingers wrap through the holes as I peek through the fence.
The score is on the board above the field Mockingjay's: 10 to Trackerjacker's: 6, they must be on a time out or something.
I scan the players and find him. He stands there on the Mockingjay's side of the field wearing a jersey that's blue with white writing it says Mellark on the shoulders and has a 13 on the back. He stands in the circle and looks like he's giving strategies to his teammates it leads me to believe he could be the quarterback of the team.
As I look across the field I see the opposing team the trackerjacker's which colors are red and black.
On the mockingjay's side stands all the cheerleaders to the side in front the leader, Glimmer, stands in the front her outfit is skimpy like the rest of the cheerleaders. That's one of the reasons I'd never join the proud cheerleader squad but I have plenty more.
She gazes at Peeta batting her mascara-globbed eyelashes and pulling her top down even more obviously trying to capture that kind of attention from him.
Then she turns and her eyes land on me, if looks could kill I'd be dead ten times by now. Her look is an cold angry glare and her facial expression is slightly disgusted like it says 'Stay away from him he's mine, nobody likes you anyway scum.'
I abruptly turn my head away from her. My avoidance of her probably drives her to insanity. After all, she can't do anything about me right now, I'll gladly take advantage of that.
A bronze haired football whose jersey says Odair bumps shoulders with Peeta to get his attention.
My heart stops as I see the bronze haired boy is pointing at me, Peeta's eyes follow his finger and his eyes land on mine. We stare for a second, his lips turn up as if he were pleasantly surprised and we maintain eye contact for a few seconds daring the other to look away first. My eyes widen.
The breath in my lungs extracts itself immediately.
Instantaneously I jump off the fence and run down the side walk. My face turning red in embarrassment. One thought keeps repeating in my mind though he just saw me watching him.
Why was I watching him anyways? I wasn't even thinking about what I was doing but now? Now I just feel like an utter idiot.
I realize I ran in the direction of the small woods and the old gas station. Which doesn't particularly matter, I needed to head in that direction anyways. About eight blocks down the road the old cracked falling apart sidewalk leads to the convenience store that I usually go to when I leave the house. I always somehow end up here.
Once I cross the tiny parking lot aligned with dusty gas pumps I burst through the doors and immediately feel the temperature change. It's warmer in here, outside is the nippy chill of the cold wind on a fall night. I know for a fact it will only become colder as the night goes on from my personal experiences.
Inside is the faded yellow walls that were once very vibrant, the floor is the old white tiles that have a few chips and cracks in them in the corners are a few freezers and some storage lockers.
Behind the counter is Haymitch, the owner, he was once a friend with my father and knows small details to my situation.
From a freezer in the back I pull a single liter of mountain dew out and take it put it to the front counter. I dig the five dollar bill out of my pocket and set it next to the bottle. Haymitch takes it and gives me 3 dollars back.
At first Haymitch claimed I didn't have to pay for stuff but I declined it each time he eventually just kept his mouth shut and let me pay for my drinks. I take care of myself I don't need pity or help, of course money's tight but I survive.
The old drunk before me only know vague details of my life, and I only come here occasionally, he may be gruff and rough on the eye but he could be the most honest, person I know. There's two gas stations in the seam and he owns one so of course I know him, my dad always filled up his work vehicle here.
Haymitch gives me a nod he knows I'm sleeping outside tonight and leaves me with the advice he always does.
"Stay alive," his voice slurs. As usual.
I put the 3 dollars in pocket of my worn out jeans and grimly nod.
"Will do Haymitch."
Afterward, I disappear into the moonlit woods next to the corner store making my way to the tree I usually sleep in, I always have since I was thirteen when the the bright colors of my life became darker.
The bark is rough against my back as I lean into the tree and sigh, absolutely exhausted. Slowly, I sink to the ground at the root of the tree, finally I can stop running and relax.
I grab the mountain dew and twist the cap breaking the seal and put the bottle to my lips, the fizzy lime flavor explodes in my dry mouth and washes down my hot, burning throat. Over the next two hours I sit and think while taking small sips from the bottle and finish half of it. The temperature drops, I can even feel it through my hoodie, goose bumps prick the layers of my skin and I shudder.
Why's it have to be so cold? It's like everything is out to get me. Even the weather.
All at once the trees shake. It's rougher than it would be if it were caused by the small gusts of wind.
A shilloute appears stepping out of the darkness. My eyes widen, instantly watering from the cold. I spring up to my feet capping my drink and shoving it in the front pocket of the hoodie.
I see the broad outline of the figure that's taller than me and the blue eyes against the dim moonlight. They stare straight at me as the only sound is the low howl of the wind and the leaves of the trees rustling emitting the sound of waves rolling off an ocean.
Their hairs light and cut short, and the figures huge, larger than me, it leads me to my conclusion; they have to be a boy, there is no way possible it's a girl.
I take a shaky breath my insides quivering, I should say something, or run, I need to do something.
"Katniss? " it's a male's voice that speaks.
They take a step closer the identity of the silhouette is revealed. And I am shocked.
"Peeta, what are you doing out here?" I ask cynically. I'm agitated and feeling odd, he's becoming stranger and stranger and I only want him to back off.
I'd hoped I was done with running tonight; but maybe I'm not.
"Funny, I could ask you the same thing," He says his voice not faltering as he immediately shoots the question back at me like we're playing some game of ping-pong with our words.
"I have my reasons, and why'd you think I'd tell you?" I reply hotly before I even think about it.
"Knew you wouldn't, but I thought I could at least try. Let me take a different approach on this, could you please leave? I'll even walk you home if you want."
"No thank you," I mutter not feeling the three words one bit. "I'd like to be here alone right now and you should mind your own business."
"No, I don't care why you're out here at the moment but you shouldn't be, definitely not right now." he says ignoring my question completely.
I do understand what he means there are coyote's and other predators out here at night also in the small town of the seam near the woods there are thugs, and random shootings all the time. However, I don't understand why he's concerned about me, and he's rubbing me the wrong way even if he seems to be genuinely worried.
And then there's that weird fact that I've encountered him twice today, both times he initiated them.
"You know if you're trying to get something from me you should give up right now because your not getting anything from me."
"I'm not trying to get something from you, but I believe you shouldn't be here and I hate to just leave you here."
I glower at him. "What right do you have to tell me what to do, I will do what's in my best interest, and there's absolutely nothing you can do to persuade me otherwise." I hiss as my anger spikes. "Besides, you must have something in mind, may I remind you this is your second time approaching me today," I exaggerate the word today.
He sighs running his hand over his face as if stressed. "No, I'm just concerned about your safety, no matter how much you want to degrade yourself in your mind your still a person, and I'm trying to help you." He looks me in the eye and I have a hard time holding his gaze. "Can't you just leave the woods, please?"
"I'd rather not. And if your so set on doing what's best for me then I suggest you leave."
What exactly is going on? Three years nothing like this has ever happened, so why now? Who does he think he is?
But most importantly what do I do? I just don't know, I can't quite decide.
"Look, it's like committing suicide if-" he begins, once again trying to reason with me, he should know it's pointless. If he won't make a move to leave then I will.
"Forget it," I tell him situating the drink in the big pocket of my hoodie where my hands should be. The element of suprise is the best thing to have on your side in a situation such as this one.
I whip around and run through the dark forest I know like the back of my hand.
In between the trees, under the branches, through the cobwebs, faster, faster, the wind slams into my face I run on my adrenaline rush.
And he chases me, he'll never catch me though, I won't allow it. The wind swishes in my ears at running and my legs throb, the drink splashes but it blends in well with the rustle of the leaves above.
(This was written on my phone so there may have been grammar mistakes.)
Okay if you guys like this chapter their will be another one, alright?
Because I do have some what of an idea of what could be in chapter 2.
Review :)