Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
All characters belong to Stephanie Meyer, I only own the plot.
I left Nashville the next morning, only stopping off to get coffee to somewhat sooth my raging hang-over. I headed towards Little Rock, stopped off for quick rest and a bite to eat and then went on to Oklahoma to spend the night.
When I got to the motel I checked my phone. Three missed calls, all from Jasper. As expected as he's the only one with my number, or he should be. I didn't call him back; he probably knows I won't anyway.
I undress and climb into bed but instead of crying and spending the night with the urge to cut and get drunk, I felt numb. I felt empty and completely numb. I almost laughed out loud at what my life had become. I'm on the run from my gangster boyfriend. I grew up in a small town; I was the shy, smart, no-body kind of girl who could have been somebody. I could have gone to an Ivy League university; I could have been a politician, a high-end lawyer, a big-shot journalist, anything. But instead I'd fallen victim to my emotions. When my mum died I'd closed myself off from everyone. I'd only been 11, just a kid and I'd never let on to anyone how affected I was by her death. They'd all assumed I'd been too young to really understand, that the gravity of the situation went over my head. Nobody had ever seen a significant reaction from me that would worry them; I'd never seemed overly emotional about her death. So since that young age, I slowly descended on a downward spiral.
By my twelfth birthday I'd started cutting, by my thirteenth I'd started drinking, by fourteen, the self-harming had increased. Any close friends I'd had slowly drifted as a result of my constant mood swings. I'd started doing stupid things and hanging out with 'the wrong crowd'.
At fifteen, the nightmares started, which led to the insomnia and the prescribed sleeping pills. At sixteen I guess I finally hit rock bottom.
*Flashback*
I awoke to an awful smell of bleach and numerous antiseptics. There was a faint beeping sound coming from a machine beside me and I could hear the bustle of people talking and moving about somewhere to my right. But all my mind really focused on was that I was awake, I was alive, and I wasn't fucking dead like I should be.
I felt some pressure on my hand and I glanced down to see my father's hand gripping it. He squeezed it tighter and started repeating my name over and over. Next thing I knew he was hugging me and calling at a nurse to tell the doctors I was awake.
The doctors told me that they'd had to pump my stomach and patch up my wrists but that I'd avoided any liver or kidney damage and I should be ok. I SHOULD BE O-FUCKING-KAY. Huh, yeah. Apparently my stupid iPod had been on shuffle and after 'Come As You Are' had finished playing some scream song had come on and woken my dad up, he'd then come in to my room and found me passed out and bleeding on my bed.
I was referred to some therapist and let go home. But instead of being relieved that I was still alive, the situation seemed to make my life worse. My father constantly tip-toed around everything and our relationship was even worse than it was before. My therapist was a shit-head and wasn't helping me at all. Everyone at school somehow found out about the incident and I was forced to endure the 'subtle' looks every day. My life became ten times worse than before and instead of planning another suicide attempt and risk fucking it up again, I planned an escape. An escape from this hell hole of a town. An escape to anywhere but here.
*Flashback*
I woke up around 5 a.m. and headed out onto the motel balcony for a cigarette. It was bright enough to see but the sun wasn't up yet. I glanced down at the cars in the lot. My beat up 'thing' was there, of course along with plenty of other shabby looking cars. Except for one, a fancy black SUV was parked along the edge of the motel. I was instantly suspicious. Cars like that don't come to places like this. I checked the plates and headed inside to write it down just in case.
Since I was up I figured I may as well get on the road. It was at least 8 hours to Santa Fe from here so I had quite the journey. I dressed and gathered my stuff before checking out and heading towards my car. It was still only around 5:30 a.m. and I glanced over at the SUV to see a man in dark shades and black clothing leaning back against the seat and he appeared to be sleeping. Huh, odd.
I started my car and left the motel lot and started toward New Mexico. Four hours later I stopped off at a cheap diner for dinner and when I was passing through Amarillo I saw a very familiar looking black SUV in the car park of a hardware store. I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach.
Instead of my planned route, I took a detour down to Odessa and up to Las Cruces. I was speeding too and when I was on a straight road I kept checking if anyone was behind me. I knew I was probably paranoid but his business has made me this way.
My journey was 4 hours longer than it should have been and I was in Las Cruces instead of Santa Fe but I'll make do. I pulled into another motel, checked in and went up to my room for a quick cigarette before bed. I was so tired. Not just because of the journey but because of everything that's happened in this week. I don't know where I'm finding the strength to go on from but I'll take it regardless.
*Flashback*
It had taken months, but I'd saved up $750 and I could finally prepare my plan. I booked a ticket from Seattle to New York on the greyhound bus for two weeks from now and got my things set.
Two weeks after I booked the tickets, I got a lift from my dad into Port Angeles for 'shopping'. From there I got a bus to Seattle, boarded the greyhound bus and settled into my 3 day journey to New York.
Halfway through the journey I sent my dad a text since he'd been blowing up my phone and had no doubt informed the authorities, considering he's the chief of police. 'I'm sorry, I love you but I had to leave. Xo Bella'.
The bus journey had cost $300 and I'd spent another $200 on motels. With little money left when I arrived in New York I set off onto the streets to find somewhere to eat and maybe somewhere to spend the night.
*Flashback*
The next morning my mood was strange. I had only a 5 hour journey until my destination and I wasn't exactly happy about it. When Riley gave me his card and told me if I was ever in trouble to call him, I never thought I would. Not like this, not for this reason.
I set off and in what felt like no time I was pulling up to a large range in Phoenix, Arizona. I don't know why Riley owns a ranch, it's not like he's the type, or ever here.
I climb out of my car and have to squint to look at the moderately sized house because of the sun. It's hot here, really hot. I hadn't taken much notice of the changing of temperature during my journey but I noticed now how different the weather was here to how it was in New York.
I heard noise to right and glanced up to see a few men riding towards me on horses. Cowboys, yay. I didn't even know what to say to them. So when one of the men dismounted his horse and came towards me with a questioning look on his face, I blurted out the first thing that came to me.
''I'm a friend of Riley's.''
Understanding crossed his face and he simply nodded and motioned towards my car. ''Well then missy, get your stuff, I'll get you a room.'' Oh, okay. Simple and straight forward, no explanation needed, great. I grabbed my bags from the back of my 'thing' and followed the cowboy into the house.
When he showed me to my room I just stared at the simple surrounding before I realised he was asking me something. ''I'm sorry, what?'' I tried my best to look sheepish when I noticed the annoyed look on his face as he realised I hadn't been listening. I should try to be more polite, he was letting me stay on his ranch no questions asked. Well, Riley's ranch but I presume this fella was someone important. ''I asked if you'd had a chance to eat yet, we'll be getting grub soon enough.'' Assuming 'grub' meant 'dinner' I said I hadn't and accepted his invitation to eat with himself and the ranch hands. As he was talking I studied his features. His skin was tan and his physique told me he obviously did a lot of work around here. He had dark brown, shaggy hair that half covered his deep brown eyes. As he turned to leave I jumped in with a question that had suddenly jumped to my mind. ''Sorry sir, but um... what's your name?'' A look of shame crossed his face and I was confused for a second before he spoke. ''I'm sorry ma'am, how rude of me. Name's Jacob Black ma'am.'' He held out his hand for me to shake and I almost giggled at his gentlemen ship. As I shook his hand he spoke again. ''And yours, ma'am?'' I looks up at him, ''Hmm?' I asked. ''Your name?'' He asked with a slight smile. Oh. ''Oh'' I thought quickly. ''Kelly Masen.'' I answered after a beat. ''Well Kelly, welcome to Hastings' Ranch.'' I nodded at him and he left me alone in my new home.
There you have it. Apologies for the late chapter. Life gets hectic sometimes and it's difficult to update. Thank-you for all the reviews and follows and favourites so far. They're much appreciated. Please review. - BurningLiberty xx
