I could just leave town right here, right now. I have everything packed up. Everything I give a damn about is currently in the trunk of my car. My personals, my prized possessions, my computer, my cards…everything I care about losing, I have. I have clothes, money…enough to hold me over until I get there. I was always looking for a reason to go. This isn't exactly the reason I was looking for, but it's a reason nonetheless. With my very last bag slung over my shoulder, I give the shell of what used to be my house just one last look. It's almost completely cleaned out. The only thing that's left is all my furnishings. I'd like to take the furniture with me, but I can't and I can always just buy more eventually. I sigh and grab the knob of my front door. I close it behind me and lock up my house and dash out to my car. I'd like to sit here and be all sad and nostalgic but I don't have time to be sad and nostalgic right now. So I look in the trunk of my car one last time to make sure I actually have everything I could and should have taken. Yeah…one last glance over everything and I'm sure it's all there. My pictures of me and pop, the picture of me and ma, my books, my computer, everything essential that I'm going to need. I have to be out of here in the next ten minutes. Gone, without a trace.
I have to go and I have to go quickly. It's funny though because throughout my life, anytime I would think of a safe place, I'd immediately think about Sioux City. It's the safest place I've ever been in and aside from the case that got me into the predicament I'm currently in, nothing ever happens here. Sioux City is so safe that you could leave your doors unlocked at night. Funny that way, how the very town I thought to be the safest place in the world, isn't safe for me anymore. This place that I've grown up isn't as quaint as I once thought it was. It's pretty solid to say that I never thought that I would have to pack up everything I could fit into the trunk of my car and leave the home I've owned since I was 24. I also thought for sure that when I finally worked up enough nerve to go to California, I'd always fly there. I never thought that I'd have to drive there, for fear of somebody knowing my flight information and finding out exactly where in this world I'm going. At this point, the cat's out of the bag. Michael Evans is Alex Karev and everybody knows that.
Quickly, I get into the driver's seat and back out of my driveway. I'll miss my house, that's for sure. I'll miss how homely it was. I'll miss the fact that it was in my hometown. But I have to leave and I know that this is the right thing I need to do. I press on the gas pedal and start going off in the direction away from my house, staring at it through the rearview mirror until eventually, it disappears. It's maddening to know that I might not see my house again after tonight. Even if I come back eventually, after everything here in Sioux City dies down, there's no guarantee that my house will still be standing. And based off the things that are currently happening to my properties, I think it's a pretty safe bet to say that my house won't be standing the next time I make the trip back here, if I ever do decide to come back.
Like I said, I could just leave town right now. I could make a left and take the first exit and be on the freeway in less than five minutes. But internally, my conscience and my heart are both battling right now. My heart is telling me to get the hell out of here while I still can, before anything happens to ME. But my conscience is telling me that I won't like myself if I just leave, knowing what I know. I can't just leave. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I didn't at least help or make sure. I push 60 mph down the street and make the sharp left to get to the shop. I'm halfway expecting a crowd of people to be blocking my way but I'm wrong. There aren't any people here on this block and I don't know exactly why, but I could guess. They probably moved on to my house, that's my guess. I'm glad I made it out of there when I did. I throw my car's gearshift in park and just stare at the scene. It's like watching somebody die or get into a car wreck. You know you shouldn't look but something inside of you is biologically inclined to draw your eye to the scene.
The sign that used to be outside of the building that has my dad's name on it is on the sidewalk, up in flames. The front windows are busted out and the front door is open. It looks like something out of a scary movie. The flames are so bright orange that they look fake. The smoke coming from the flames is thick and white and filling up the night sky. It's noisy, too. I can actually hear it burning. I can hear the wood disintegrating from the scorching hot heat. I could break down and cry at how it's going down but I don't have time to do that. Sure I'm sad that it's up in flames like this. Sure I'm sorry that I caused this huge riot. But I'll mourn over the loss of the store later. Each moment I'm sitting out here in shock of how this is happening is a moment wasted. Each moment is precious. Instead of sitting and sulking at the fact that white-hot, yellow, red and orange flames are engulfing the store that pop invested himself in, I open up my door and get out. I slam the car door shut and aside from the sound of the building burning, I hear sirens coming but they're way too far away for me to wait out here and do nothing. I run to the side of the building and reach the wooden steps. I'm surprised that they're still intact.
Since the foundation is now weak from going up in flames, I run as fast as I can up the steps, trying to bear as little weight as possible on them so they don't cave in on me. I make it to the top landing and think about something. Should I knock? What if she's naked? What if she's doing something private? I stand on my tiptoes and crane my neck over to see inside the window. There are flames so deep in the apartment so whatever, I'll ditch the knocking thing. I'm not sure how much she'd care about me violating her privacy by just going in if I save her life by doing it. I grab onto the door handle but pull back quickly as the handle just burned my hand. The handle is metal so it's housing a great deal of heat. I didn't think before I just grabbed the door and now I have a burn blister on my hand. I take a step back and give the door one good, solid, hard kick. It doesn't take much force to break the door in since it's already weakened by the heat, but it still required a little bit of strength to get it open. Everything in the foundation is just weakened from the heat. This place is going to cave in. This building is going down sooner, rather than later.
Jo's Point of View.
My mouth won't stop moving so much. My mouth just keeps moving and it's making my teeth click. And my body is shaking. I need a blanket. I really need a blanket so bad. I think my toes aren't there no more. Please give me a blanket somebody. I curled my body up into a ball because I'm comfy like that but I have to uncurl myself if I want to ask for a blanket. My legs hurt and my toes don't feel like they're there. My body won't stop shaking but I stand up anyway. I hold onto the big railing and put one foot in front of the other to climb up the stairs. I hate these stairs. They're so big. But my toes don't feel like they're there anymore so I fall down on my knee. I catch myself on my hand though and keep walking. When I make it to the top step, I knock on the door. "…'Scuse me." I knock harder so maybe they can hear me. "'Scuse me!" I'm not posed to ask if I can come out before they let me out but sometimes I think they forget about me. I been down here for a long time. I been down here since the little hand was on the three on the clock and the little hand is on the six now. I'm not asking to come out I'm just asking for a blanket please. A blanket so my mouth can stop making my teeth make noise. "…'Scuse me…" My eyes are wet and the water coming out of them burns my face because I'm so cold.
Why won't they let me out? I just sit down against the door and curl myself up into a ball again. I wasn't a good girl but I think I'm done being sorry now. I forgot to wipe off the table after I ate my ice cream and they put me down here. I'm done being sorry. I'll clean up next time. I put my head against the door and sniff a lot. My chest has the hiccups. I wipe off my face with my hands but even though I wiped it off, the water keeps coming out of them. If I can't come out, can I please just have a blanket? That's all. I don't like it in here. It's dark and cold and there are spiders everywhere. I'm sorry. I'll be good. I really don't think my toes are there no more. I put my leg down and take off my sock. My toes are still there but my arm bumps something. I look at what it is. I know what this is! I seen this before! It gets hot! It makes things hot! I pick it up and put it close to my eyes. I can't remember how he used it to light the grill on fire but I think he pushed… I push the button and WOW. I'm not posed to play with this I don't think. They say kids can't play with the hot stuff but I'm not a kid. I'm seven, I'm not a kid. I let the button go and the hot stuff goes away.
This will make me warm up. I just have to find the grill. I remember when he lighted the grill on fire. He lighted a piece of paper and threw it on a pile of rocks, yep. He had this water too. He put water on the hot stuff and the hot stuff was A LOT of hot stuff. But I standed next to it and it was warm. I just have to find a rock and the water stuff and I'm saved. I walk back down the steps to the big part of the basement and look for a rock. I push the button on the thingy again just to make sure it still works. I wonder if it's the same hot stuff. What's this button do? I push the other button and the hot stuff stays. I don't even have to push the button to make the hot stuff appear again because it stays. Okay, I have to find a rock now. It was a black rock, I remember. Okay, stay right here. I put down the thingy on the floor so I can find a black rock. I walk over by the washing machine.
When I turn my head back, the curtain thing is yellow and orange. It's on fire. What do I do now? More water starts coming out of my eyes. This is way too much hot stuff…
There has to be some way out of this. There has to be. Don't they think about things like this when they design houses and apartments? Don't they hire people to take these things into account? There should be a fire extinguisher. There should be more than two ways out of here. I should be able to get the hell out of here. Just like the last time I was in a situation like this, I'm crying. I was seven the last time I had to battle with a fire and I really don't remember what I did to get out of that situation. I don't remember. I put my hands against my bedroom window and try to open it but the glass is just entirely too hot. I burn the palms of my hands on it. Where's the fire department?! They should've been here! Even though the window is burning my hands, I keep smacking on it. It has to cave in at some point. This is my only way of escaping. The locks on my door melted so I can't open up my door. The window's hot and it won't budge but it's my only way out. Dear god, this CANNOT be happening to me. This can't be happening. I was reading a book and then I went to go to sleep and now…
I was on my way to sleep and I smelled the smell of burning wood. Originally, I thought that it was just a sign that I was about to have a night terror. Back when I was younger and had night terrors every single night, I remember smelling the smell of burned plastic. Every time I was going to have a night terror, I smelled burned plastic. It never failed, ever. So I thought that the burning wood smell was just a sign. But it wasn't going away. And the more I laid there in bed, the more I felt myself beginning to sweat. I was sweating so profusely that my shirt was soaking wet. When I stood up to change my shirt, the smell of burning wood got stronger and I started smelling smoke to go along with it. And my throat started closing up. And I looked outside, throughout my front door and noticed that there were flames coming out of the store. I don't know how the store caught on fire but it's on fire. It might be the faulty, old wiring in the place that made it catch on fire, combined with the fact that it was raining earlier tonight. I'm not sure. But I panicked, of course. And I started shoving all of my clothes and stuff into garbage bags. Do you know how quickly things burn? I swear I thought I had enough time to pack up all my stuff and get the hell out of the building before it burned completely down but I was wrong. By the time I was done packing up all my stuff, the flames started coming inside my house and my locks were melted and my window was steaming hot. I have all my things packed up but I can't get out of here. I'm stuck in here.
…I remember what I did the last time I was in this situation. I remember now. I wipe my tears away with the backs of my hands and finally stop beating on the window. I realize now that it's useless for me to beat on the window because it's not going to cave in. The locks on my door are melted so I'm locked in. The window won't budge. There's no other way for me to get out of here, just like there was no way for me to get out of that basement when I set it on fire, back when I was seven. So since I realized that, I'm pretty content with the fact that I'm going to die in here. I pick up my stuff, including the bear I've had since I was a little girl. He's my favorite bear in the world and even throughout college, I couldn't bear to part with him. So I sling the garbage bag full of my stuff over my shoulder and grab my bear by one of his paws. I remember exactly what I did when I was seven. I walk back through the smoke, careful not to burn myself with the flames that are licking their way through my apartment. I go inside my bathroom and pull my shower curtain back. I climb inside my shower with my things and my bear and lie down in the bathtub. I don't know what else to do. I can't get out of here and I'm going to die. Eventually, I'll pass out from the smoke inhalation. Maybe I'll get lucky enough to die of smoke inhalation before I burn to death. I'm going to die in here. I might as well be comfortable, right?
I clutch my bear to my chest and close my eyes. I remember curling up in a ball in the little washtub they had down in the basement for the dogs. It was the warmest place in the basement I could find and I remember not wanting to be cold when I died. I held my bear just like I'm doing now—because he was scared of the fire—and I closed my eyes. I don't remember exactly how I got out of the burning basement alive but I did, somehow. That part of my memory is really fuzzy. At least if I die, I'm going to see my mom and my dad. They're probably up there in heaven, if heaven exists, waiting for me with arms wide open. In all honesty, I were to ever die young, I always thought that it'd be because I had committed suicide. I never thought that I'd be waiting for my death in my burning apartment. I always thought that I would've killed myself if I were to die young. I never envisioned my death to be this way but oddly enough, I'm alright with the fact that I'm going die. I think I'm ready to go. My chest is starting to tighten and my throat feels like it's closing up. The longer I can't breathe, the more lightheaded I become. At least it's not going to be painful.
Alex's Point of View.
As soon as I go inside the apartment, I'm overwhelmed with smoke. It's thick, smoggy and so hard to see. I keep my hand over my mouth so I inhale as little smoke as possible and look around. I don't see any sign of her. I can't see much through the thick smoke anyway, but the little bit I can see, I don't see any signs that she might even be in here. I don't know what just came over me, but all of a sudden, her name just comes back to me. "JO?!" I call out to her. I still try to look around. Everything I look at just turns out to be a flame. There's a bed on the floor that's in flames, blankets on the bed that are in flames and a TV that's shattered on the floor. She's gotta be in here somewhere. And even if she's not, I won't leave until I'm absolutely sure. I just feel like I've already caused enough problems. I'm the reason this place is burning. I'm the reason behind all of this and if I left out of here without at least making sure she's not in here, I wouldn't forgive myself. I already can't get the sound of Buck's panicked voice in my ear out of my head. He was talking to me as they were setting the place on fire. He said a group of about 100 or so people were outside rioting and somehow, the store ended up on fire. And they kept throwing papers and cloths that were set on fire into the store. And they moved on after the store went up in flames, presumably to set my house on fire next.
I sidestep a flame so I don't burn myself and check in the closet. There's nothing but an empty basket in the closet. I kick the door to the bathroom in and look around; nothing in here but an empty toilet paper roll. Did she flee already? "JO?!" I think she might've left already. It looks like she cleaned out all her belongings and got the hell out of here. I have to check everywhere though. I won't be able to deal with myself if I left, not knowing if she burned to death in here or not. I may be a lot of things but I'm not a murderer. I won't leave until I'm sure she's not in here. I don't think her body would've disintegrated yet. This place hasn't been burning long enough for her to have burned completely. I grab onto the hot shower curtain and pull it back to look in the bathtub. I knew she was in here somewhere. She had to be in here. I don't know how she would've gotten out, being honest. The locks on the door are melted and I don't see a window anywhere. She's curled up in a ball, holding something close to her chest. Her eyes are closed like she might be asleep. She has on a pair of long pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Her hair is pulled back and there's a bag in the bathtub with her, which means that she probably tried to escape but she gave up. "Jo!" I shake her shoulder and try to wake her up. It's not until her head falls limply to the side that I realize she's not sleeping, she's unconscious. I grab the small, black trash bag and the thing she was holding—which happens to be a teddy bear—and grab her arm. I pull her limp, lifeless body up and hoist her over my shoulder. She's not very heavy. She actually feels like I just put a small child over my shoulder. I don't think she's breathing. If she's dead, should I just leave her? Clearly she wanted to die in her bathtub with her bear, right? I don't know.
It's getting really bad in here. I hear the foundation creaking so I make a beeline to the door I kicked in and walk fast but still carefully, down the front steps. I keep my arms around her legs so I don't drop her but I walk to the front sidewalk, right next to my car so we're a decent distance away from the flames. I kneel and put her softly down on the sidewalk. "Jo…. Jo." I shake her by her shoulders again and still, no response. Maybe I should just leave her here. I really think she might be dead and if she is, that's my fault. I can't have her be dead. I can't have the fact that I killed a girl on my conscience. I can't live with that in my heart. I put my ear down to her chest to listen for a heartbeat. Her heart is still beating. "Come on, Jo…. you're alive." I gently but still forcibly slap at her face. Her face is soot-covered and dirty. "Come on." I keep smacking her face. I can't live with myself if I knew that somebody died over the fact that I wrote something. I don't know the first thing about CPR but I know that you're supposed to push on the chest, right? I've seen that in the movies. I push with my hands down on her chest. I tilt her head upwards so it's straight and lean down. I don't know how to give mouth-to-mouth but I'm really going to try. I didn't drive across town in the middle of a riot, go into a burning building and save her just for her to die because I can't give CPR. I could've left town without even checking to see if she was okay but I didn't and I'm not going to let her die. Just as I start to lower my face down to hers, her eyelids flutter and I'm not sure, but I think a soft cough comes from her mouth.
"Ehhhem… ehhem." She smacks her lips together and opens her eyes, but her face is contorted like she's in pain. Her eyes are such a pretty shade of brown but they're watery, like she's going to cry. She slowly lifts herself and props herself up on her elbows. Her voice is hoarse and rough, not that sweet tone she usually has. She brings her hand up and touches her head. "Ow…" She's still coming to her senses. I stand up and put her bag down on the sidewalk next to her. Okay, I'm glad she's not dead but I really have to go now. I can't stick around here for long. I did my duty and that's all I can afford to do. I pick my car keys out of my pocket and unlock the door. I turn around and start walking away when I find that I'm still holding the stuffed animal. She's shaking her head like she's clearing her mind from something. "M…My house." She finally springs up like she got all her senses back but she still seems really confused. "I had a bag… where's my—" She's looking around like she doesn't have a clue what's going on.
"Here." I pick up the bag and the bear and hand them both to her. She takes them off of me slowly but surely and puts her hand on her throat. It's almost inaudible, but I do hear a very soft, very strained "Thanks" come out of her mouth. I put my closed fist up to my mouth and lightly cough into it. If I'm coughing just from the little bit of smoke I inhaled, I can only imagine what her throat must be feeling like. How is she talking? I don't know. I just turn around and head back to my car because I seriously need to get out of here soon. I feel like I should say something else to her but I don't know what else I should say, so I just say the first thing that comes to my mind. "…Take care." I mutter, my voice still just a little bit gruff from needing to cough again. As soon as I say that to her, her face scrunches up like she's very confused. I'm actually surprised that she's not more disoriented than what she is. I don't know how long she's been unconscious but she was unconscious anyway and I think she should be just a little bit more perplexed than she is. She's tough, it seems. I nod at her and start walking back to my car.
"…Where are you going?" She starts walking after me and when I turn around, I see that she's stumbling. She must be dizzy. She holds her hand on her forehead and closes her eyes. "I… I mean…I mean, thank you." A hard, unexpected cough slips through her lips. She drops the bag and the bear and takes a jumbled up, stumbling step over towards a grassy area. Her cough is so hard and dry that it sounds like it hurts. After the fourth coughing spell she has, she hunches over and puts her hands on her knees. She opens her mouth up and ends up puking. I don't think she's sick, I just think she was coughing so hard that she gagged herself. She should go to a hospital and get some fluids or something, I don't know. I'm not a doctor but I think she needs checked out. I reach in the back of my pocket and take out the only twenty dollar bill I have in there. I walk it over to her and hold it out, waiting for her to take it. "…I don't need that." She's still hunched over with her hands on her knees with her head down. She spits in the pile of her vomit and wipes her mouth. Her forehead is glistening with sweat. "…Where are you going?" She asks me again.
"…Away from here." I keep the twenty dollars in my hand so she'll take it. "Come on and take the damn money, I've gotta get going…" I crane my neck and look down the street to make sure no lynch mobs or rioting groups are coming after me. Right now, the only thing I see is the flashing lights of fire trucks coming our way. Took long enough to get here. "Take the money. I really gotta go… you should go to a hospital or something." I try to force the twenty bucks in her hand but she won't take it. I really wish she'd take the damn money. It's all the cash I've got on me right now. I'll feel so much better about myself if she takes the money. I know that she's got nothing and this is all my freaking fault so just take the damn money. Make me feel better about myself and take the money.
"…I can't take it." She finally stands upright and looks at me with tears in her eyes. "What's twenty dollars going to do for me?" She looks away from me because she's crying now. "I… don't have a home." She shrugs her shoulders. "So just keep it." I don't have the heart to tell her that it's my fault that she's homeless. It really didn't dawn on me that she's homeless until she just said it. That was her house that just burned down. Her HOUSE. She doesn't have a house anymore because of me. "Thank you." She says for the billionth time as she bends down to pick up the garbage bag and the bear that she put on the ground so she could throw up. "Where are you going?" She asks me again, for the TRILLIONTH time. "Maybe I'll see you around…"
"I doubt it…" I put the twenty bucks back in my pocket. I wish I could do something for her. This is totally and completely, utterly my fault. I didn't even realize that this stuff would go as far as it did. I never intended for anyone to get hurt. Now I just feel horrible. "At least let me take you to the hospital…I'll drop you off, come on."
"I don't need the hospital." She shakes her head. "I'm fine. I'm really okay." She shakes her head.
"Let me take you to the hospital."
"You go to the hospital." She retorts, glaring at me like I'm kicking a puppy. "I don't need you to worry about me." She just shakes her head and starts walking up the street. I feel like I owe her something. She's homeless because of me. Where the hell is she going to go?
"…California." I stop her. I'm almost certain that I'm going to regret saying what I'm about to say but it's really the least I can do. A mob of people that set out to hurt me ended up hurting her instead. They burned down her house over something that I did. I only have twenty bucks in cash on me, nothing else. I can't help her much but I feel like I should help her. I'm about to regret this. She's naggy and so annoying. She actually stops walking up the street and turns around. The more I look at her, the more I realize that I have to do something to help her. It'll make me feel better if I help her. I don't care if she doesn't want my help, I HAVE to help her. It'll weigh so heavily on my conscience if I don't help her. I'll end up walking around with all this guilt and I'll feel terrible for the rest of my life. She's standing in front of me with a trash bag full of everything she owns, holding a stuffed animal. I gotta help her. "I'm going to California…driving there. You can…come with me." She starts shaking her head and her mouth opens but I'm not going to let her decline. It'll kill me if I let this girl go homeless and it's my fault. "It'll beat the hell out of you trying to find somewhere else to live tonight. Just come get in the car… I'll figure it out. You'll have somewhere to sleep tonight though, at least." I shrug my shoulders.
Her face is so dirty and she looks like she needs a good night's rest. She looks at me like she's very hesitant to say yes to this and I guess I understand why she would be. We're perfect strangers. She doesn't know me and I don't know her. We've only talked a handful of times before this. But she has to believe that I'm not out to do anything bad. I went into a burning building to save her life, for god's sake. I'm not trying to do anything to her besides help her. I'm capable of being a human being. But she's looking at me like she wants to say no, so I just turn my head and raise my eyebrows to let her know that I'm serious. "…Okay." I take a sigh of relief and grab my keys once again. I thought I was going to have to pull her teeth to get her to come with me and that would've been so annoying because I'm still trying to get the hell out of this town as soon as I possibly can.
I cross the street, past the fire trucks that are parking and stuff and quietly slip away to my car. I think the firefighters took so long to get here because they knew all about the riots and the mobs and they knew that it was my store that they were burning down. That's just a guess though. I push the button on my car remote to pop my trunk so she can put her stuff in the trunk. She's moving awfully slow but I think it's just because she's sad—which she has every reason to be—and because she's still recovering. She seems really against the hospital so I won't force it but I really think she should she go. I wish she would hurry up before the firefighters start asking questions. I decide against rushing her though. I let her take her time and she eventually gets over to me. She takes the open trunk hint and piles her bag into the trunk, along with the stuffed animal. I slam the trunk shut and get in the driver's seat. I can tell that she doesn't trust this idea yet because she gets in the back seat. I didn't tell her she had to, she just did. I lock the doors when she's inside and start the car. I start driving up the street and heading towards the exit.
"…What's in California?" Her voice clearly says that she's tired. I look at her through the rearview mirror as I drive. I really don't even think she cares; I think she's just asking just to ask. She's staring out the window like a lifeless zombie. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap, her eyes are low like she might fall asleep and she has soot all over her body. Her face is covered in it and so is her light blue t-shirt. Her hair is flat and lifeless just like the rest of her. "…Can you drop me off at..." Her voice trails off. She sounds so dead. "Nevermind."
"No, where do you want to go?" I ask her.
"Massachusetts…" She mumbles. "Nevermind though." She sighs. "Mind if I lie down?"
"Knock yourself out." I shrug and keep driving. I watch through the mirror as she lies down in the backseat of my car and closes her eyes. I'm not sure, but I think I see a tear slip out of her eye. I don't know if she knows that the whole house-burning-down thing is my fault but I won't tell her. "I have a house out in California." She doesn't look like she's functioning so I'm not sure if she's asleep but on the off chance that she's not and she still wants to know the answer to her question, I'll tell her anyway. "Doesn't seem much safe in Sioux City anymore so I'm going out to my house in California. I've been meaning to move out there… finally got my chance." She doesn't say anything, which confirms to me that she's sleeping.
I just sigh and keep my eyes on the road. What the hell have I done? I have to leave my home because it's not SAFE anymore. I got her house burned down in the process, she's homeless. Which resulted in her being in the back seat of my car, sleeping. Now I'm on my way, driving across the country because it's not even safe for me to fly, with a girl that I don't even know. I have a perfect stranger, fleeing the state with me. Seriously, what the hell have I done?
A/N: So I hope you guys see where I'm taking this story. It's a little bit different than anything I've done and it's different than any other Jolex story I've seen. You guys seem to like it so far so I hope you keep liking it. I just have a couple things I wanna say though. I've gotten some questions on tumblr about this as well as a review on here and I think it's cute that you guys care that much lol. So here it goes:
1. Even though I LOVE the song In The End by Linkin Park, that's not the inspiration for the title. Sorry, but that's not it! lol.
2. Music goes into a lot of my writing process. I can't write without music. So yeah, a lot of my stories are inspired by songs. I know some of you don't really give a crap about the song that the story is based off of, but there are a few people that actually care so I'll tell you that no, the song that inspired this story was not In The End by Linkin Park. If you're interested in knowing, the song that inspired this story actually came from one of my favorite childhood movies. I heard it for the first time in a while one day last month and i thought the story told in the song was beautiful and I immediately thought of Jolex (of coruse). So if you want to listen to the song that inspired this story, it's called At The Beginning by Richard Marx & Donna Lewis. The story told in the song is a DIRECT reflection of what's going to happen in this story.
So yeah, there you guys have it! :)
P.S. Let me know what you think of the way the story's going. I might not update tomorrow with it being Grey's Day and all. & Let me know if you listened to the song or not.
-flawlesspeasant
