On we go with Kaitlyn's introductory chapter. There's a lot mentioned here that won't be fully elaborated on til later chapters. I'm hoping to have the story gradually unfold, so I hope that's working OK for everyone so far. Thank you very, very much to everyone who favourited, followed and reviewed after the first chapter.

Also, a little clarification. 'Tyler' discussed in this chapter refers to Seth, the idea being he changed his name following his arrival in New York (along with his appearance and everything else about him) to signal his new start and to make himself harder to trace for his girlfriend (AJ) and everyone else he abandoned in Iowa.

It was the morning of my departure; August 26th 2014. I was stood on the front porch of the house, taking it all in one last time. Nearly every significant moment of my life has occurred in Donnybrook; this sleepy, simple Iowa town of 14,000 people. In many ways, I'm as typical an Iowan as it gets; I grew up on a farm, I could drive a tractor before I reached high school, I like beer and barbeque, I've never owned less than two dogs at any point in my life, my wardrobe has its fair share of plaid and denim... but that's only half the story.

I was never going to be built like a cheerleader, it's just not in the Bonin DNA. I was a stocky, spotty, slightly pudgy adolescent with no interest in what girls were 'supposed' to like and a short fuse even for a teenager. There isn't much room for deviation from the norm in a town like this, and my charming classmates never ceased to remind me I just didn't quite fit in. By 17, I'd successfully channeled my aggression into something more gainful than melodramatic journal entries. Exercise; and plenty of it, but nothing the other girls were doing, I was too proud for that.

While they were in yoga class I was pumping iron. I have no brothers, only a little sister, and my mother raised us mostly single-handed, so I'd been doing plenty of heavy lifting on the farm from a young age, giving me a good foundation to build on. I set about moulding my puppyfat into solid muscle. Naturally this just meant that the pricks and prickettes who used to call me chubby started calling me a man instead, but at least now I could kick their ass if they went too far.

I gave up on girls almost entirely, it took going away to college for me to discover that there were other females out there who loathed sparkly dresses, American Idol and dancing in clubs just as much as I did (although I've since learned that the third of these can be quite fun in equally two-left-footed company). My friendship group came to consist entirely of guys; the male equivalents of myself, people didn't quite fit the all-American good ol' boy archetype. AJ was the only exception to my 'no girls allowed' rule. AJ had always been there.

18-to-21-year-old me had two-toned hair (jet black mixed with bleach blonde for maximum contrast), wore cargo pants and combat boots, and hung around Iowa's criminally overlooked punk rock scene. But I was never a groupie, and anyone who presumed so got a swift kick to the nads for their trouble. To be honest, aside from finally ditching the dye job for my natural dark brown a year ago (much to my mother's relief) I've not changed all that much.

In many ways, that was what made me decide to get out of here; time was standing still, and no one else seemed to care but me... well, that and finding out my boyfriend of four years had been giving it to my cousin for half the time we'd been together, anyway. That's enough to make anyone opt for a complete change of scene.

So, back to that morning. I hadn't noticed the front door opening behind me, or the light footsteps across the decking, but I still wasn't surprised when the arms gripped me snugly from behind. If you know Bayley Bonin is in the general vicinity, expect a hug at any time.

Bayley is my younger sister; three years, three months and fifteen days younger to be exact. We don't look especially alike; her hair is darker than mine, she's inherited way more of what photographic evidence tells us were our Dad's features, whereas I'm almost all Mom. Bayley has the combined blessing and curse that is the Bonin family curves just as I do, but that's about where the visual similarities end.

We're not too alike as people either; I'm cynical where she's optimistic, headstrong where she's withdrawn, streetwise where she's naïve, but we complement each other perfectly. I've fought for her, but never against her. I'm the overprotective big sister from hell, all-told. But if you met Bayley, you'd want to protect her too. I can say with complete certainty she is the most honest, genuine, selfless person I have met. We were both brought up well, but she's retained a lot more of those virtues into adulthood than I have.

However, she's also a product of her environment through and through. All she wants to do is find a nice young gentleman, have some nice children, take over the farm when Mom and my step-dad shuffle on and live happily ever after. So far she's failed to even reach step one of that plan; to say she lacks confidence with the opposite sex is an understatement. And, despite being just as much of an internet geek as any suburbanite you'd care to meet, she's barely been to a big city in her life, and shows no inclination of doing so. I don't resent her for it, but I find it very hard to relate to.

It's probably for the best; she absolutely refuses to believe there are genuinely bad and vindictive people in the world. I guess it's hard to imagine when you rarely leave Donnybrook, where everyone says hello and comes out in costumed force for every hokey anniversary or holiday they commemorate. I hate that, she loves it with a passion. She's the most innocent and sheltered 25-year-old woman this side of an Amish commune, and I wouldn't have her any other way.

"Phew, I thought I'd missed you going when there was no one downstairs," Bayley sighed with relief.

"I'm not gonna fuck off to New York til God knows when without saying goodbye, am I? What kind of friend/sister/housemate would I be?" I asked rhetorically. The 'housemate' part had only come into being a few months earlier... after I caught Dolph with Charlotte. We'd inherited this old place, it had belonged to my grandparents; it was way too big for Bayley to possibly be happy living there on her own. It made sense.

"I bet your new housemates won't be as awesome as me," Bayley chortled, but through her joking I could see a genuine fear of being replaced.

"No one's as awesome as you, BB, no one," I replied, ruffling her hair because I forget on a daily basis that she's now a grown woman.

"Do these girls even speak English?" she asked, small-town obliviousness on full show. Her jaw had dropped in astonishment when I told her all three of the fellow twentysomethings I'd be renting an apartment with were from overseas. I guess the idea of moving halfway across the world is pretty mind-blowing for someone who considers a weekend in Des Moines to be exotic.

"Well, one of them is from England, so I'd presume she does," I smirked as we each took a seat on at the wooden table on the porch.

"And the other two are from Ireland and Australia... so they'd consider themselves English speakers. Whether the rest of the world agrees, I'm not sure."

"Australia... crikey," Bayley breathed in amused astonishment with her best Steve Irwin impression.

"You'll be meeting them all soon. No way am I letting you go any more than a month before you come visit," I smiled. Bayley's face creased with worry.

"I'm not sure I'd like that," she murmured fretfully.

"Ugh, AJ was just the same. You'd both love New York. They've got comic book stores that would cover a whole block of our downtown. There's some sort of sci-fi or video game convention every month. It's nerd paradise," I implored, giving her the hard sell.

"AJ's probably just worried about running into Tyler," Bayley replied darkly, with a mournful look across the horizon. What happened to AJ really troubled Bayley, even now all wounds had seemingly healed. It probably added to her own reticence to take the plunge with a guy.

"First of all, Tyler being in New York is just a rumour. That piece of shit could be anywhere on the planet and we wouldn't have a clue. Secondly, if he is in New York, what are the odds of encountering this one guy in a city of 20 million? And if by some miracle our paths do cross, I don't care if it's been six years, I'm gonna kick his fucking teeth in!" OK, I guess what Tyler did to AJ still stuck in my craw as well.

"20 million? 20 million, I just... what does that even look like?" Bayley marvelled.

"How do you be somebody in a place like that?"

"Well, that's the challenge, that's the excitement. I've got 50 job applications for everything from office clerk to tour guide. I could find myself anywhere doing anything, and that's fucking awesome," I enthused. Safe to say Bayley did not agree.

"Be careful," she instructed for about the 40th time since I told her of my plan, taking my hand in hers.

"I will, so long as you're careful with my pickup..." I replied, with a nod to the bright red Dodge on the drive. No need for a two-ton gas guzzler where I was going.

"...I'm gonna miss that baby. Great back seat, very spacious, very comfortable, be sure to make full use of it."

"Kaitlyn!" she yelled in disgust and discomfort. Bayley's such a prude, she's wonderfully easy to embarrass and mortify. So is AJ, or rather, so was the old AJ.

"We both know all that back seat's gonna have is the memories," Bayley sighed.

I could never bare to hear this. I could personally throttle every single one of those bullies whose taunts continued to have my beautiful baby sister doubting her own attractiveness to this day. Safe to say she dealt with that side of high school life less effectively than I did.

"For the last time; you're a sweet, smart, gorgeous young woman. For my money, you're Donnybrook's most eligible bachelorette. He's out there, trust me. He's out there," I assured her with my hand rested gently at her shoulder.

She looked at me and thanked me with her eyes. We never needed to actually say it anymore. Sadly, this tender, sisterly moment was soon interrupted by the blaring of a car horn. My taxi to the Greyhound station had arrived.

"I guess this is it," I said resignedly, getting to my feet and grabbing my bags from by the door. It was surprising how little of my possessions I actually needed when it came down to it.

Of the hundreds of thousands of hugs Bayley has given me over the years, this was the tightest, most heartfelt of them all.

"Don't let it change you," she breathed tearfully in my ear.

"...Don't forget about us just cos we're not as cool or as sophisticated as they are. We're your family, and I don't just mean me, Mom and Steve. I mean all of us. AJ, Punk, everybody. We'll always be here to come back to."

I squeezed her as hard as I could without bursting her. Part of me was terrified about leaving her here on her own. If anything happened and I wasn't there to help... oh dear, I'd forgotten she was a grown woman again.

"I know, and that means so much..." I responded softly.

"...But you don't need to worry. Nothing's gonna change. You'll always be my sister, you'll always be my oldest friend. Nothing can replace you."

"Goodbye, Kaity. Call me when you get to New York. And text me each time you change mode of transport," Bayley urged, breaking the embrace and now sufficiently accepting to start to make light of the situation.

"Goodbye, Bayley," I replied, doing a very poor job of fighting tears of my own as I lugged my wares down the drive to the waiting cab.

Goodbye people who love me. Goodbye birdsong. Goodbye unbroken horizon. Goodbye personal space. Goodbye time to think. Goodbye Donnybrook, Iowa; for better and for worse, you've made me who I am.