Not sure where I wanna go with this yet, give me ideas? A two-shot? Or a mini-story? :) Thanks.

Fruitsmiles

Be My Escape

(Prologue)

Days like today I spend my time listening to the fan above me whisk the air in to pieces. I hate days where I sit in my room, recalling old memories. Recalling; remembering, whatever you want to call it: it's not for me. Some days I think about what really goes on in my life, while other days I just pretend my life doesn't exist and I go about my day as if I had control of it. No one's figured it out yet; that's what I tell myself. Truth is I believe everyone knows; they just don't want to tell me.

When will be the time for the world to become honest with me? I hate being looked in the eye and lied to. I can't stand it. I get sick of listening to others. Brutally honest here, okay? I'd like it to be about me. For once in my life I want this to be about me. The world would disagree. It's all about everyone else. Scratch that: It's all about him.

"Mitchie, let's go." My mother called me through the door. She knew better than to walk in. "Whatever." I closed my laptop and slowly got ready. First day of College; Community College. My family would rather spend money on themselves than be decent enough to let me go to College away from home. But no, I'm stuck paying for College off my work money, still living with my parents.

"Try and act enthusiastic." My mother stated as she handed me the car keys. I gave her a fake smile and exited the house.

I pulled in to the closest parking place possible. I wanted to get in and get out. Going to College this year was pointless. All the classes are general eds. But I had to until I found an alternative way to get into Julliard.

Julliard: the school, my school. My parents refused to let the high school or I send in an application for Julliard; they believed I didn't have the talent to get in anyway. Little do they know the second I find a way, I'm out of here.

"Michelle Torres?" My professor addressed me, "Mitchie." I corrected him. He nodded and handed me several papers. "Here's your seating chart for the year. Your book is on your desk. Welcome." I was polite enough to let him finish his sentence before stalking off towards my seat. The class dragged on for two hours. And I thought high school was boring- Community College definitely had it beat. Especially this English class, I mean it's even the highest credited here and I know everything that's going on. I mean, shouldn't the AP's be more difficult or something?

"Honey, how was your day?" Caitlyn, my co-worker asked as I clocked in. "Terrible. I'm so ready to get out." Cait laughed. "You've been saying that for years." "I don't care. I'm determined, Cait. I'm tired of letting my dreams fall through the cracks." I spoke to her with a rough tone, heading towards the bar to deliver some drinks sitting out. "Mitchie," Her voice was soft, always when she was apologetic. I turned in her direction with a glare, continuing my work.

"Girls, take your breaks." The manager called from the back. I threw the napkins in the trash forcefully and cut through the bar to the back in avoidance of Cait. "Mitchie, I'm sorry alright? I understand after your Dad left that your Mom didn't support you or Camp R-" I spun at her, pain masking my face. "Look here, Caitlyn; I'm done. I'm tired of you trying to fix things and I'm tired of talking about that stupid Camp that happened years ago. It's irrelevant. What is relevant is Julliard, okay? I want to write. I want to write and sing. So stop bringing up the past and go along with your life without getting involved in mine!" I left the break room and returned to the bar infuriated. Caitlyn knew better than to bring up my parents and she certainly didn't think twice about mentioning that stupid Camp. How dare she.

I flopped onto my bed like a fish coming on to shore. I was utterly exhausted from work and had spent the night feeling completely betrayed by Caitlyn. I'm a grudge holder. I was going to be holding this one on her for a while. She knows she is the only person I remotely enjoy talking to. I turned on my laptop and connected to my email. The news feed on the Yahoo! page was annoying. I clicked on to my mail forcefully, ignoring the description below the photo.

RE: Julliard Admissions

Michelle Torres, I am sorry to inform you that next spring and fall's music, writing majors and classes are full. Next admissions will be open in two more summers. We would enjoy having you as a student here, if you are still interested please send your resume to the admissions office and we'll review it. Please feel free to call the board or office, our numbers are listed below. Thank you.

-Julliard Music Board

I clicked out of the email in tears. Two more years? This couldn't be right, it just couldn't! I logged on to the Julliard website to find I had been wrong. Julliard's waiting list was so broad and lengthy that they admitted 12,000 music and writing students for the next two years. If I had any chance of getting it, at the age of 23 they wouldn't admit me. They loved young, raw talent, fresh out of high school.

I've let myself go in my writing and in my songs. I hated spending my days looking in to the nothingness of my wall. The fan whisking the air in to millions of pieces. If only I could be whisked away from this place. My life simply an imagination. If the world truly knows me, why don't they speak up? Because my voice is just not loud enough.

Like I said; don't know where this is gonna go, review and tell me what you wanna see happen. Two-shot? Three? Mini-story? Full story?

~Fruitsmiles

p.s. Thanks for everyone who's stuck through all the waiting. I love that ya'll are patient with me and the stories.