There are no boundaries for love. Love is one of the broadest words in the English lexicon. Though in Greek, love expands into six different concepts.
Agape, Ludus, Philia, Philautia, Pragma, and Eros..
Simply put, Agape loves the world. Ludus, the kind, witty stranger from the bar. Phila, shows true loyalty. Pragma, the unconditional. Philautia, what you need before Pragma. And Eros, the master of desire, whom consumes one's integrity.
"You're fucking crazy."
It was a mere insult to her. She heard it at least 10 times a day, most of it came from myself and the rest from the people in town.
Running away took an awful amount of guts. The urge had lingered in her mind for God knows how long. She knew this day, the final straw, would come.
The day was blistering hot. Sizzling rays of sunlight baked on the hills of Arizona. It was the end of June, not long after high school graduation. The walls of the rusted Toyota cooked her like an oven. Beads of sweat were dripping from her forehead.
She only down to two options now–be found dead in this vehicle or get killed out there.
I have no knowledge of my whereabouts. All I know, I am far from home–miles away from Phoenix. When I left my city, screaming and filthy, I pumped the pedal until every drop of gas had been burned. The possibilities of anyone finding me now is highly unlikely, for the better.
Now, stranded on a deserted road, melted by the summer heat, it is clear no one can save me even if I wanted. A feeble smile of victory splashes on my chapped lips. This road is my fate, I halfheartedly mumble to myself, climbing out of the vehicle. At this point I wouldn't give two shits if my knees go weak and fall hard onto the concrete. I desperately feel the need to pass out and be dead for good.
I keep going on the road, though. Not with the beat-up wheels, but my frail legs. The blinding sunlight makes me squint until blurry shapes appear, taunting my poor vision and weakened state. Where I'm heading to is out of the question. It is evident that I am committing suicide at this point, stumbling among an empty road, hungry, terrified and mentally unstable. Images of my mother and father searching for their missing daughter flashes into my mind as I blindly stumble in the heat. Everything is killing me inside out, slowly and miserably.
The walk is unpleasant and lengthy, but I soon find myself at a diner stop. It is a heavenly sight to see something at last–no more boiled cracked concrete and dried, flaxen fields. "Too late to turn back now," I utter to myself with a dead tone, scanning the lot. Two old cars and a motorcycle are parked at the front. It's too early for a lousy crowd, it seems.
A grumbling noise startles me, kicking my spine on the line. I glance down, recognising the horrid sound coming from my empty stomach. Shit. I hold the flat pit of my abdomen with one hand and elbow the door with the other. I unsteadily enter the restaurant, stunned by what I see.
This place is nowhere near as a decent eatery but realistically, any diner on the road becomes impaired overtime. Even the disgustingly greasy, fried smell of the cuisine relieve me.
The room is displeasingly small, but large enough for a starving girl and 5 other customers. I slide myself to the nearest table and pick up the sticky menu, not having to bother my surroundings. I swear my body is going to shut down any moment if my needs stay unfulfilled for the next round of the clock. It doesn't matter if I'm suicidal, the idea of slowly dying from hunger sickens me.
I stuff 5, 10, 20 strips of fried potatoes and a hamburger until the churning of my stomach starts ceasing. The whole process is a blur–and for God's sake, it is repulsive. I don't tolerate fast food. But once my energy has regained, in my mind, running away no longer feel so remorseful. One day I will get where I belong, I repeatedly reassure myself.
"You're a dollar short, kid."
I slide my hands back into my pockets and pick up the same two cents. The rust on the coins wink at me. A gulp of dismay presses against my throat–my plan was going so well!
"That's all I have." the waiter grunts and roars in rage. "It's just a fucking dollar."
My eyelids shuts tight and I instantly regret my words. It's ignorant of this man to take such a small amount of money so severely. Who does he think he is? He's definitely digging for trouble.
"I'll take care of this."
An appealing, smooth voice projects across the room, seizing everyone's attention. My hollow brown eyes pop open again to see the mystery man letting me loose. He's making his way towards my table. The sight of an outsider is alarming, but I keep my observations. The way he strolls is confident, graceful with a pinch of carelessness. Well-built, leather jacket and boots, I am dumbfounded by this mystery man. The closer he's getting, the faster my heart is pounding. Oddly, there's a strong dose of attraction washing over my weak body.
The grumpy waiter says nothing and wanders back behind the counters, displeased by my saving. I blink several times as the man proudly stands front of me, hovering over the table. I can clearly see his face now. Fortunately, it isn't a disappointment.
"Running away?" he places down a crumpled banknote. His tone is strong but tender. I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out if he's playing with me.
I timidly swallow the lump in my throat. There's difficulty fixing eye contact with him. The strange wisdom he possesses is startles. "How'd you–"
"Go home, girl. There's nothing out here for you."
"It's honestly none of your business."
The man curves the heels of his boots and heads for the door. Disappointment rises on his face as he shakes his head, exiting the diner.
I cave.
Wait! I spring up from my chair and chase after him, mumbling under my breath for him to stop. The old door swings abruptly behind me as I push my way out of the stuffy building. "Hey!"
He stops and turns from his bike to face his desperate caller. I study him, watching his steel blue eyes squint into folds, trying to make out my form in the sunlight. I'm standing a few feet away with my right leg forward. He twists his eyebrows in confusion.
"Where are you heading to?" I ask in a small voice.
The man with the leather jacket just scoffs at my question. Ignoring me, he picks up his glimmering black helmet and easily fits it on his blond head.
I eye the second helmet and quickly snatch it from the seat. Not a twitch of reaction appears on his face. Hmph. He's simply allowing his words to do the dirty work.
"You aren't supposed to be out here." he climbs up on his vehicle and starts the rough engine.
I clasp the helmet onto my head before following his motives, mounting behind him. Reckless. The devil is on my shoulder, applauding me.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere where no one knows your name."
I huff at his reply. I've been convinced I was living in a town like that my entire life. Just fucking wasteful.
He twists his palms around the handles and boosts the engine twice. Tick, tick.
"Ready?" he asks, leaning his head over.
I shoot him a bright smile, nodding in certainty.
There's a growing rumble underneath my seat. I pull my arms around the stranger's waist and starts holding on tight. My moral old soul has left my body at this point, and so has the angel on my shoulder.
"You're fucking crazy."
My eyes squeeze tight as a new beginning awaits.
"I know."