The next morning, my recent cuts had scabbed over night but had opened up and started bleeding everywhere. It took about 15 minutes to clean everything up that was covered in blood and bandage up my wounds again. I knew they were going to scar, especially when I have the habit of picking at my scabs.
After I bandaged my cuts, I started to get ready for school. It was 7:30 and Jezebelle usually picks me up around 8:00. School doesn’t start until 8:30 and it’s a 15 minutes drive from my house to MEHS.
I put on my favorite pair of pre-ripped jeans and my usual black shirt that says, “Welcome to Suplex City, B****.” I grabbed my black high top converses and my black hoodie and put on my skull and crossbones earrings, ring, and necklace. I brushed my long brown hair and left it down to cover my face and I put on mascara and eyeliner to bring out my icy cold blue eyes.
Once I had my breakfast that consisted of a bagel and a glass of orange juice, and I brushed my teeth, I grasped my black bookbag with tiny little skull and crossbones on it.
If you couldn’t tell by now, I like the color black and skull and crossbones.
My parents had already left for work and I knew they wouldn’t be home until about midnight doing who knows what, which meant I had the house to myself for the night until I go to bed. And that gave me plenty of time to figure out what should happen next in my book.
Oh yeah, I’m also an anonymous author, but still adored by many. I post my stories on different fanfiction and story sharing websites like Fanfiction.net, Wattpad, Tumblr, Quotev, and other sites.
So far in my book, the main character, Rowena Brooks, is leaving town to find her biological parents because her foster parents are weird and they sing songs about being happy when Rowena has nothing in her life to be happy about. So she tries to run away, but her crush, Johnny Margolin, attempts to stop her, because he secretly has a crush on her too.
And that’s all I have so far. I have no idea what I want to happen next. I usually listen to music when I write, but a slower song came on and I fell asleep. Since then I haven’t been able to think properly about my writing. Which is unfortunate for my readers because apparently, I’m a good writer. Or at least that’s what their comments say and what Jezebelle says.
Just as I walked outside, closed and locked the front door, Jezebelle pulled up into my driveway. I still felt guilty about last night, so I had made a promise to myself that I would make it up to her. Jezebelle’s favorite thing to do is shopping, so I’m going to tell her that we are going to go shopping at the mall after school. And she knows how much I hate shopping, so I hope this will prove to her that she’s means so much to me and that I’m lucky to have her as my best friend and that I was sorry.
I walked up her car, which she named Blackjack, after the fictional Percy Jackson’s pet pegasus (it’s her favorite book series next to Harry Potter, Hunger Games, Divergent, and Twilight). It was coincidentally a black Mustang, so she thought it be perfect. It’s black and it’s the kind of car that has the same name as a horse breed.
Once I got in the car and threw my bag to the back seat, I turned to face Jezebelle to apologize to her, but she didn’t even look at me. I sighed.
“Jezebelle,” I tried. She still didn’t look at me, but I continued anyway, knowing that she would still listen to me. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you last night. It was rude and wrong and I’m sorry.”
She turned her head a little in my direction, but still avoided eye contact. I went on.
“I just wanted to let you know that I will do whatever it takes for you to not be mad me anymore, so…” I waited for dramatic effect. “I’ll take you shopping after school.”
The response was immediate.
“Oh my gosh!” she finally faced me with wide eyes and an enormous smile plastered on her face. It almost made me want to smile, but then I remembered why I don’t normally smile, then it was easier to suppress it. “Are you serious? Because, you can’t kid with me like that!”
“Nope, I’m dead serious. I will for real take you shopping to any store you want and if you want to buy something, whether it’s clothes or food, I’ll buy.”
She hugged me across the seats. I took the gesture as an acceptance to my apology.
She didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t have to. I knew I was forgiven and she was excited, and so she pulled away from the hug, turned to face the front of the car again, put on her seatbelt, and pulled the gear shift from park to drive.
I faced forward and put my seatbelt on too as she cranked up the music on the radio. “Shut Up and Dance” by Walk the Moon was playing so we started jamming out all the way to school. I usually don’t like Jezebelle’s taste in music, but with this song I make an exception.

My first class of the day was History. I sat in the back of the room just like I always do and Jezebelle sat next to me. As I sat down, I started taking notice to who was all in my class.

I've never really cared about who were in my classes, but now that I know Jack might like me, I need to know what other information I'm missing out on.
Surprisingly, Jack was in my History class. I don't know how I never realized that, probably because I never pay attention to people that I don't really care about, or just people in general.
When Jack sat down in his desk, he very quickly glanced at me. I wasn't sure if was because he might have a crush on me, or because I might've been staring at him.
Now that I found out I have an admirer, I realized that there was a possibility that I could maybe like someone. I mean, sure I've never had love before, but I also never would've guess I'd have a best friend for three years, much less a best friend at all.
So, I’m not totally giving up on love. Maybe it exists, maybe it doesn’t, but I’m really hoping that it does.
The rest of class consisted of our teacher, Miss Yarinda, going on and on about World War I, the most boring war we have ever had, me, glancing every now and then at the back Jack’s head and drawing hearts in my notebook, surrounding the phrase, Maybe it really is real.
When the bell rang, Jezebelle and I sprinted to our next class, Trigonometry. We once again sat in the back of the room. When the teacher, Mr. Phenopia, came in, he immediately yelled at us to open our books to page 57, Identifying Sets of Pythagorean Triples.
No matter how much I paid attention in class, I had no idea what I was doing. It’s not like I’m going to become an architect, where I’d actually have to use this s***. Other than in architecture, you’re never going to have to know that you measure the sides of a brace and find them to be 7, 24, and 25 inches.
I looked across the aisle to look at Jezebelle's notes, to see if those could possibly help me.
I never got the chance to figure it out because then Mr. Phenopia caught me, thinking I was cheating by looking at Jezebelle's notes. Maybe because he thought I was copying her homework, I don't know, but he yelled at me anyway.
"Miss Grace! What the hell do you think you're doing?" He screamed, unlike some teachers, who would never cuss, especially at a student.
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he never gave the opportunity to explain.
"You go straight to the principal’s office right now missy! I'll call down and tell them what you did, so they'll be expecting you."
I rolled my eyes, knowing not to argue. Mr. Phenopia was the meanest teacher at school. This one kid, 15 years ago, screamed at him for being a d**k. From then on, Tim Filbert was a Middle Eastland High School hero. He stood up for himself to the meanest teacher here, even though he got expelled, no one forgot about how he called Mr. Phenopia a d**k.
I grabbed my books and my bookbag and walked out of the classroom to the office. As I walked down the hallway, I heard some feet running down the hall, coming behind me. In reflex, when the person was right at my tail, and he/she put his/her hand on my shoulder, I judo flipped him/her.
The guy, or girl, landed with a thud and a groan. As the person was laying there, I realized who I flipped. It was…

Jack Stalers. He was the one I flipped, me thinking that it could have been an attacker. When you live the life that I live, you tend to be on your toes 99.9% of the time, so excuse me for being cautious.
I bent down, stretching an arm out to help him up. He took it.
“I am so sorry,” I sincerely told him.
“It’s ok,” he replied, and it actually sounded like it was ok, when it wasn’t. I just flipped him over my shoulder, he probably thinks I’m crazy, and now probably thinks I’m unappealing (if he really did have a crush on me).
“Even though you might have crushed my spinal system, I’ll be ok.” he said with a smile on his face.
I gave him a small smile in return. I wanted to like him, maybe because he might like me, I don’t know, but I couldn’t. I didn’t feel anything when I was with him, I didn’t feel any sparks or even a slight connection with the him like what I’ve read in books or what I’ve seen in movies and TV shows.
“So, was there a reason why you followed me?” I asked cautiously.
“Oh, yeah!” he exclaimed, like he forgot but suddenly remembered. “I thought I’d be polite and pretend to walk you to the office but actually take you out for some coffee or something.” he said, totally confident.
My eyes widened. Was the crush really true?
“Ummm, what if we get caught?” I asked with worry.
“Oh, is that what you’re worried about? Don’t worry, I’ve been down to the office so many times that I know that they don’t actually care if you get in trouble or not. They usually have you sit in the secretary’s office for 5 minutes before they send you back to class. So follow me and let’s have an adventure!” he said, then started skipping down the hallway.
If this boy was always so perky, we might have an issue. I’m for sure, without a doubt, NOT a perky person. What do I have to be perky about? My life totally sucked!
But I had no choice but to follow him.
I wanted to see if there was a possible connection between us.
Just kidding, I only followed him because I wanted to get out of class.
There was no possible way for us to have a spark, so I’m giving up on that nonsense people call the greatest thing ever, love.
I followed him out to the parking lot and then to his black Ford pick up truck. But he didn’t walk to the driver’s side of the vehicle, he went to the passenger side, opened the door and held it open for me. When I got in the truck, he closed the door and went to his side of the truck, opened his own door, got in, and put the truck into drive and then we drove away from MEHS.
As he drove, Jack turned on the radio, to Sirius XM, and turned up the volume when he heard the song “Want to Want Me” by Jason Derulo came on. He gave a near girly shriek of excitement. I looked at him weirdly, but he was too busy screaming the lyrics to the song at the top of his lungs.
When he got to the chorus, he started to fake touch himself.
I couldn’t help myself, I burst out laughing. I couldn’t stop.
Jack stopped “singing” and looked at me, with a surprised, yet happy look on his face. I didn’t blame him, I never laughed, so it must have been a shock to hear the noise make it’s way out of my lungs.
When I realized what I was doing, I stopped. Now Jack looked confused.
“Why did you stop?” he asked me.
“What do you mean?” I replied back, equally confused.
“You laughed for the first time in about a year and then you stopped making that amazing sound that you need to use more often!” he practically screamed at me.
When he said it like that, I almost believed him, that I should laugh more often.
Almost.
I looked out the window, so I couldn’t look at Jack’s expression.
“My life,” I started out, pausing to figure out how I wanted to phrase the upcoming sentence, “is complicated.”
Jack snorted. I looked back at him, kind of glaring, because this was not a laughing matter now.
He turned down the volume on the radio, pulled over to the side of the road, unfastened his seatbelt, and turned to look at me.
“Everyone’s life is complicated, what makes you different from everybody else in that perspective?”
I stared at him.
His chocolate brown eyes were soft, filled with wonder, compassion, confusion, and innocence. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I couldn’t tell him about my life. He would just turn on the world, lose his innocence forever, and see the world as what it truly is, a big giant punch to the face brought to you by the fires and darkness of hell.
“I can’t tell you,” I told him, turning back to the window.
He turned away from me, but I could tell he was disappointed that I didn’t want to open up to him, but I couldn’t do that to an innocent person. It would be like kicking a little puppy dog right in the face.
He put his seatbelt back on and started up the truck again, but didn’t turn the radio back on. I must have bummed him out if he didn’t put music on. So, we rode around in silence. I wasn’t even sure if we were going to go anywhere in particular anymore. But I was wrong.
We pulled up to a small little restaurant called Saul’s Diner. Jack got out and came over to my side of the truck and opened up the door for me. He might be a little mad at me, but he could never stop being a gentleman.
As I walked in, the smell of freshly baked pastries wafted into my nostrils. I took a deep breath, trying to absorb all the smells of the diner. Jack poked me in the back, ushering me to go farther inside. He walked in front of me and led me to an empty booth in the corner.
Pretty much as soon as we sat down, a waitress in an 80’s getup came up to our table and asked if we wanted anything to drink.
I told her that I was fine with a water and Jack asked for a Mountain Dew.
I thought it was funny that Jack brought me here for “coffee or something” but we ended up getting completely different beverages.
The waitress, whose name tag said Izzie, walked away and the awkward silence began.
“So,” Jack started to say, but was cut off by a group of waitresses, including Izzie, who came up to the booth.
“Hey, Jack…” they all said simultaneously.
“Hey Izzie, Karlee, Miranda, Katie, Hope, and Leslie,” he replied back, almost rudely, but Jack was never rude to anybody, so had to have been my imagination.
“We wanted to come over and say hi, we know that the anniversary is coming up and we wanted to give you something,” the one named Karlee said.
“Oh… ok… thanks girls… “ Jack responded, quite softly, and sadly.
I looked at him. At first, I was not happy that the girls had shown up, and I don’t know why, but now I was worried about him. He was sad, and he was never sad. The anniversary of what? It was obviously a depressing anniversary, probably a death. Which doesn’t make any sense, Jack is happy all the time, he never gets sad, not even when they lose in big sports events, so this anniversary of a death must be important if it’s the only thing that brings sadness into the happiest person I have ever known.
Jack avoided my gaze, he just kept looking at his lap.
I wanted to sympathize, but that has never happened to me before. No one I have ever known has died, and if they had, then I wasn’t close with them.
The girls brought over a big bowl of cookies n cream ice cream with cinnamon sticks poking out the top. It looked delicious, but I knew better than to take a mourning person’s food. Food is the #1 cure for just about everything, except depression.

After we had gotten our food (me with a cheeseburger and Jack with with ice cream and a bacon cheeseburger), we left Saul’s Diner to go back to school.
For about half of the little “adventure” that we had taken, I had enjoyed it. It was kind of nice spending time with someone that wasn’t Jezebelle and not having it be weird or awkward, except when things started to get a little personal for neither of our liking.
Once we got back to school, lunchtime was almost over, but since we had already eaten, and there was no need to go to the lunch room to pretty much watch others eat their lunch, we just stayed outside and sat in the back of the truck.
For once, out of this time that Jack and I have spent together, we had a comfortable silence, instead of an awkward silence, and it was nice.
We didn’t talk at all, except…
“So I think know is probably a good time to finish what I was going to say at the diner.” Jack said.
I turned to look at him. He wasn’t looking at me, but I knew that if he wasn’t, then it must be something he might be ashamed of.
He took me looking at him as a sign to continue.
“I had wanted to say that I’m sorry for pushing you to be uncomfortable when I asked you what made you different from everybody else when you said that your life was complicated. I know all about having a complicated life.” He apologized.
I stared at him with confusion.
“I accept your apology, but, what do you mean you know about having a complicated life? You have the most easy life ever! You’re rich, you’re smart, you’re athletic, and those things could help you get into college, and your parents are the most perfect people ever!” I exclaimed.
But Jack didn’t respond.
Know I must’ve hit a sore spot. I turned away from him just as the lunch bell rang, signaling that lunch was over.
Jack stood up and brushed his jeans off.
I took this moment to take in what he was wearing. I didn’t usually care about what people wore, but Jack looked pretty good in his letterman jacket, with a purple plaid shirt underneath, and his Levi jeans.
I wish I looked that good in the clothes that I wear.
Jack reached out his hand to help me up. I grabbed it and he pulled me up, but I accidently tripped on my own foot and I nearly fell, but Jack caught me.
I looked into his eyes. They were staring right into mine, filled with compassion and a little bit of worry.
It looked like he was leaning down to kiss me, so I panicked, and cleared my throat and stood up straight, now avoiding his eyes.
He looked a bit disappointed, but I must not have very clear eyes because it disappeared (again), so it must have been my imagination (again).
“Well, um, thank you, for… everything,” I told him, still avoiding his gaze.
“Um, yeah, anytime,” he replied, a bit awkwardly.
I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or if he was just being polite.
I grasped my bookbag from the backseat of the truck and started walking into school, thinking about all that had happened.
*****************************************************************
When I walked into my next class, Science, I saw that Jezebelle had saved a seat for me.
I felt guilty. I had pretty much abandoned her. Even though I was supposed to have gone to the principal’s office, I would’ve been back by lunch, so she must’ve been worried I had left her and that I was bailing out on our shopping extravaganza that I had promised her for later that afternoon.
When she saw me, she gasped and raced up to greet and hug me.
“Oh my gosh! What happened to you?” she pulled away from me.
I saw that everyone was staring at us. I walked back to our seats and explained what had happened with Jack. I didn’t mention that it was him or that he might’ve tried to kiss me. Jezebelle would start screaming and coming up with ship names for us, and I did not want have to go through that agony.
She was actually ok with me leaving, as long as it was a “date” than it was fine with her.
We weren’t able to talk the rest of class, because our teacher, Miss Hobingoblin, was PMSing, so she was in her worst mood ever, and no one messes with her when she’s cranky.
Once class was over, Jezebelle and I walked to our lockers, and then she kept on asking me about “date” with Jack Stalers.
“What was it like? Where did he take you?” she asked me.
“It was...nice.” I replied. “He took me to a quiet little diner, near the timber in the other side of town.”
Jezebelle thought for a moment.
“You mean Saul’s Diner?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh, no reason…” she said mischievously.
“Ok…?”
The bell rang once again, for our final period of the day, and my most favorite class of all, gym.

I loved gym! It was the only class I could actually get a grade better than a C. With my experiences of trying to run away from home, like a gajillion times, I realized that I’m fast, but not fast enough to beat the police’s squad cars, but, you live and learn. When you want to run away, don’t take the obvious route out of town, go through dark alleyways, and wear a lot of black or some sort of camouflage.
I raced Jezebelle to the girls locker room. I beat her by like 10 seconds (she is not very athletic, though she counts shopping as a sport). I changed into my gym clothes, which consisted of a hideous yellow shirt with the words “Middle Eastland High School” on them and a disgusting shade of brown. But I didn’t mind as much as the rest of the student body. Someone had tried to get people to sign a petition, and it worked, almost everybody in school signed it, but the school board was not as persuasive.
I went into the gym as fast as I could, and that was fast, without breaking a sweat, to find out what we were going to do today. Soccer.
Soccer was my favorite thing to do in P.E. Everyone wanted to be on my team, because my team always wins, but they also don’t want to be on my team because they think I’m weird and creepy, like I care what they think about me.
Our gym teacher, Mr. Bockenheimer, or Mr. B, picked our teams, and everyone seemed to be satisfied with the results of the team members.
I was on a team with very athletic people and some not so very athletic people, but the best thing ever was when I found out who my opponents were: Jezebelle, and Jack Stalers.
Now, I really wanted to crush my team. Just like in the rest of my classes, I never really took notice who were in them, I just minded my own business, but when it came to gym, I was all in their business, and giving them bruises where the sun does not shine. I’m quite competitive if you haven’t noticed.
But Jack and I are always on opposite teams, that’s how I noticed him for the first time this past school year. I never really cared though, but the only thing I did care about was beating his sorry ass in every sport or activity we do in gym.
Jack smirked at me as we went on opposite sides of the gym.
I smiled back, and a real smile, not the fake kind I give to everyone else.
Once Mr. B blew his whistle, and Jack kicked off, I jumped up to block it with my gut, and like the awesome (yet not awesome) person I am, I succeeded.
The game went on like that for the rest of the period, Jack and I trying to prove how much more superior we are than the other/s. But in the end, it was my team that won, and I was the one who lead them to victory, but the modest side of me would disagree.
I don’t understand myself sometimes. I hate myself, more than people hate me, but when it comes to sports, I break out of my clam, and be the most badass person that ever walked this planet, except for every member of My Chemical Romance.
After I finished changing back into my regular school clothes, I walked out into the commons area, where I saw Jack sitting with his friends.
When he saw me, he bid his friends a quick goodbye, and walked over to me, with a big smile on his face.
“So, good game you had there,” he told me.
I blushed a little.
Why am I blushing?!
“Oh, thanks, you too,” I replied back, as casually as I could.
He laughed.
“My friends called me weak and a wimp for losing to a girl.” he said nonchalantly.
I glared at him.
“But I told them off, saying that there are girls out there that are pretty badass and they could kick there asses all the way to China.”
My glare turned into a smile. I don’t what this guy was doing to me. I never smiled, but once he took in interest in my life, and he actually seemed to care about me (for a reason I will never understand), he has been the only person that could make me genuinely smile, which Jezebelle couldn’t even do that often.
“Well thank you for defending me, unless you were trying to defend someone else, which could be a weird guy thing to impress a girl, or in some cases, guys.” I told jokingly.
Now he was the one to blush. I laughed at his facial expression.
Then he smiled.
“See, I told you you need to laugh more often,” he joked back.
I just continued to smile at him. Maybe, just maybe, we could be friends…
**************************************************************
“Come on! Please try this on!” Jezebelle begged me.
We were at Middle Eastland Mall, and this was the tenth store we’ve been to, and it’s been over two hours. Jezebelle had been trying to convince me to try on almost thirty pairs of outfits, but I refused.
Even though I had promised her a trip to the mall, I did not promise her that I would try on clothes.
“Nope,” I told her, standing my ground.
“Ugh, why do you have to be so freakin’ difficult?” she nearly screamed at me.
“Because, I’m me.” I retorted back.
She rolled her eyes at me.
I smiled, but it wasn’t one of those smiles that I get from Jack. Even though, it’s only been a couple of hours since I’ve last seen him, I missed his company.
“Alright, one more store, and then we’re done, I promise.” Jezebelle told me.
Now I rolled my eyes at her.
“Yeah, that’s what you said every store since 5 stores ago.”
“Yes, but this time I actually mean it.” she said.
I sighed. “Ok….” And I followed her to our “last” store.
************************************************************
“Alright! I am finished with all my shopping!” Jezebelle exclaimed.
“Are you sure?” I asked, cautiously.
“Yes, you silly goose! I’m positive! I got all the outfits I need for the next two weeks! Then I’ll come back when I need more!” she exclaimed excitedly.
I honestly don’t know how she can keep track of all the clothes she buys, or in this case, I buy for her. She does this every two weeks, she buys clothes, and then when she’s bored with them, she gets more, and just leaves the others in her closet, picking up dust.
“Alright, let’s go then,” I said.
“Okey-pokey!” she squealed.
This girl was way too perky.
**************************************************************
Once I got home, I noticed something.
My parents were home.
Oh, s***…

I walked slowly to the door going from the garage to the house. I was so scared, I’m pretty sure I had peed a little when I saw their cars. I was not looking forward to going in there. Because I had thought they were going to be back at the house later tonight, I had not informed either of them I was going to go shopping with Jezebelle that afternoon.
Holy f***, I’m going to be in some serious s***.
I opened the door slowly. I walked into the house and then walked straight to the living room, where of course my parents happened to be, waiting for me, wondering where I was, and what my punishment would be.
“Where the hell have you been?!” my father screamed at me.
I began to stutter, but I couldn’t get the words out.
“ANSWER ME!”
Before I could react, he slapped me across the face.
I fell to the floor in pain. I sat up, clutching my cheek, which was throbbing in pain.
“STAND UP, YOU LITTLE B****!” my mother screamed at me.
I scrambled up. This time, my mother kicked me in the gut.
I fell, sprawled to the floor. I groaned.
They continued to punch, slap, kick, scratch, and any other form of physical abuse, to my entire body.
“NOW GO UP TO YOUR ROOM AND THINK ABOUT THE MISTAKES YOU’VE MADE, AND WE’LL THINK ABOUT THE MISTAKE WE MADE… YOU!”
I ran upstairs, choking on my tears.
They’ve been mad before, but never this mad. And you wouldn’t think that regular parents wouldn’t make as big of a deal out of this situation, but my parents aren’t normal. They over exaggerate everything and I have to pay for it, physically.
I ran into my room, and not slamming the door. I know better than to do that. If they are already mad, it will make them even more mad.
I layed down on my bed, silently crying.
This has been going on for the past ten years. When I was younger, I was more naive, I used to think that hitting me was their way of showing me how much they love me. But they don’t love me, and I don’t love them, no matter how much I had tried, I couldn’t. What was there to love? They are horrible, mean, abusive parents, who think that I’m the worst mistake they had even made. And after the years of them telling me that, I started to believe them.
********************************************************
After about two hours, I heard my parents leave to go eat. This was normal, they go eat without me and I have to scrounge for food by myself.
I got off my bed and walked to my mirror hanging above my dresser and the person staring back at me, was not me.
The face looking back had red, puffy eyes, with mascara and eyeliner dripping down on the cheeks of the stranger in my mirror. This girl was obviously vulnerable, she has no control of her life.
Then, even though I knew it all along, I came to my senses and figured out this mystery girl, was me.
I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew that this was reality, and reality sucked ass.
I composed myself, washed my makeup off, and grabbed a bag.
I didn’t want to live like this any longer.
I put some clothes and toiletries and other stuff into the bag.
I was leaving town, for good. I didn’t care what my parents might do to me if they caught me, I just wanted to get the hell away from them, they can go to hell for all I care.
I unlocked the window that leads to the front side of the house. I crawled out with the slightest of ease. I have done it so many times, I have mastered all the “running away-leaving town” type moves.
I looked down. I was about thirty feet feet above the ground but I jumped without any fears pulsing through my veins.
I took off running in the direction of the nearest convenience store without a glance back at the place that I had once called home.
*****************************************************************
Thankfully the guy working behind the counter didn’t seem to care that a seventeen year old girl was shopping at a pretty sketchy drug store at 1:30 in the morning.
Once I was done at the store, I started walking down a sketchy looking street in a pretty sketchy neighborhood, but I didn’t think anything of it. I had done this a gazillion times before, so when I saw a figure in the shadows, I thought it was just another homeless person sleeping behind some dumpsters.
But when the person grabbed me from behind and starting dragging me away, I freaked out and started screaming and kicking, in an attempt to get my attacker to free me.
It wasn’t working. My attacker was strong, but I knew I had to be stronger. But thanks to those self defense classes I signed up for, I managed to elbow him just above his nether regions, just the spot where Sensei Megara told me is the point that hurts the most, other than the family jewels. I hadn’t believed her at first, but my attacker keeled over in pain, so I realized it was true.
I tried to take off running again, but my attacker got over his pain and grabbed me again.
“Mercy Grace! Stop trying to run away, I am trying to help you!” he screamed at me.
I stopped. This was officially crazy.
I turned around, my “attacker” happened to be none other than Jack Stalers.
“Jack?! What the hell are you doing?!” I screamed at him.
He let go of me. We both took a couple minutes to catch our breaths.
“I knew when we were hanging out, something was up. I didn’t follow you, but I was going on my usual midnight walk, and I saw you, and I never see you around this area this time of night, and you had a bag and you’re wearing all black clothes, and a little bit of camo, and as your friend I was concerned,” he explained.
“We’re friends?” I asked him, though that was obviously not the objective of his explanation.
He gave me a look.
“Did you think that after what happened today we wouldn’t be friends?” he asked me.
I shrugged.
He brushed it away.
“Why are you running away?” he asked.
“How’d you know I was running away?”
I mentally slapped myself. I pretty much admitted I was running away when I could have denied it.
“You didn’t really make seem like you weren’t,” he replied. “Like I said before, you’re wearing all black and some camouflage, and you have bag that seems to be pretty packed full of stuff, and it’s like two in the morning.”
I looked at myself. I did look suspicious. Someone would think I’m probably trying to rob someone or something.
“So what, are going to try and stop me now?” I asked him, already guessing the answer.
“No.”
That is not what I guessed would have been. I would have guessed him to say yes.. why would he said no…?
I repeated my inside thoughts aloud.
He answered my question by saying, “I’m gonna help you. I’m gonna let you do it by yourself. Besides, just by the way you are prepared for this, this isn’t your first attempt, is it?”
I looked at him closely. He was being serious, he actually wanted to help me, but the question is why? Why would he help me when he could walk away and go home to that perfect life of his or could try to convince me to go back to my own house? And how did he figure that this wasn’t my first try at running away? How did he think he knew what was best for me or that he knew me so well that he knew I had tried to run away countless of times before this? All these questions would go unanswered, because I wasn’t going to question him at all. He looked like a man on a mission, and I know from experience, with my parents, and myself, that you never stop a man on mission, ever.
“Well, you’re right, this isn’t my first try.. and if you’re serious about helping me-”
“I am,” he interrupted me.
“Well than let’s get going!” I exclaimed. “But wait, don’t you want to get some stuff? I’m not planning a vacation here, I’m planning on running away and never coming back..”
“And I knew that was going to be the deal when I signed up for this, I know the rules and I accept them. I’m here for you, and for you only.” he told sincerely.
I gave him a look of gratitude. He nodded in acceptance.
As I looked more closely, I noticed that he had a bag as well.. If he was going on a walk, that he usually takes, why would he need a bag?
Again, I wasn’t going to question. I just started walking in the direction of the town limits, with Jack at my side.
We were really gonna do it.
We were leaving Middle Eastland, and we were not looking back..

It was about five hours after we left when we started to get hungry. We had managed to get past a lot of police men and anyone that looked like they might turn us in. We had been safe for five hours, but our stomachs were begging for food.
We had reached a small town called Quaker Village. It was a quaint little town, off the border Ohio and Pennsylvania. It almost seemed like a ghost town, it was nearly deserted, there were hardly any people, the perfect place to get some food and get some supplies and snack food and bathroom breaks at the gas station.
After we stopped and got our stuff and released our bladders, we saw a McDonalds and immediately started heading in that direction.
Once we got in, ordered, got our food and sat down, we started up a light conversation about how the food wasn’t actual meat, but we didn’t care because we were so freakin’ hungry.
Then the conversation took a turn to what we’re actually gonna miss or are already missing about Middle Eastland.
“I think I’ll miss school, believe it or not,” Jack said.
“I believe it, because I’m missing it too,” I told him, and I wasn’t kidding. Since my parents are so s***ty, I looked forward to going to school because it meant that I got to spend seven to eight hours everyday for 12 years away from them, and away from the abuse they gave me.
Jack gave a little light hearted laugh and just like the other times when he laughs, he made me smile, a real, genuine smile, ones I don’t give out all that often.
“So, what or who else do you or already miss?” he asked.
I thought for moment. Who…
Then my eyes widened at the thought that had just occurred to me.
Jack looked at me with concern. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head no.
“Well, what’s the matter?”
I swallowed, trying to suppress the guilt I felt in the pit of my stomach.
“Jezebelle,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Not what, who! My best friend, Jezebelle, is like the only person I’m missing! How could I have forgotten to call her?! She’s probably freaking out, wondering where I am!” I exclaimed in frustration with myself.
“Well, don’t panic, I’m sure that if you call her after we’re done and explain where you are, she’ll feel better knowing that you’re okay,” Jack said calmly.
“No! I can’t tell her where I am, that’ll be a dead giveaway that I ran away! If I tell her that, that’ll make her worry even more!” I exclaimed, not calming down.
“Ok, well if you keep on screaming that we ran away from home, it’ll be a dead giveaway to anyone within like a five mile radius,” he whispered to me, trying to be sensible.
It worked, I started to calm and quiet down. We had already come so far to get turned in now.
After we ate, I went to the nearest payphone. Yes, in this town, they still have payphones, which are some of the most ancient things ever, so I was surprised when it actually worked.
I dialed Jezebelle’s home phone first, and when no one answered, I tried her cell.
She didn’t answer that either, probably because she didn’t recognize the number.
When I walked back to where Jack was standing, he gave a look (he always gives me looks) of confusion.
“Why didn’t you call her on your cell phone,” he asked.
“Because I don’t have one, my parents never gave me one, they said I wasn’t worth all the money you pay for a cell phone,” I blurted out, regretting it immediately. I hadn’t told Jack that parents treat me like s***, and now I’ve pretty much spoiled the reason on why I ran away, but thankfully Jack didn’t realize what I said. He didn’t seem to have heard anything I said, and when I saw what he was staring at, I knew why.
A girl was walking down the street and she was, if I dare say, really pretty, almost supermodel worthy. She had long blonde hair with hazel-ish colored eyes, I couldn’t really tell, but I bet if you asked Jack anything about her, he would be able to write a ten page essay on how beautiful she was and what made her beautiful.
I didn’t want to admit that I was jealous, but I was, but only like a teensy weensy little bit.
Jack walked over to her and started talking to her. She was obviously flirting with him, and by the way he was smiling, he seemed to have been enjoying it.
I didn’t stick around. I didn’t want to watch Jack getting himself a girlfriend with me watching in the background, with him not paying any attention to me.
I walked back into McDonalds and went straight to the bathroom. I grabbed a knife from my bookbag and started on a new cut.
I had never, ever, cut over a boy, but spending all this time with Jack, made me realize that I might actually like him. The way he talked, especially the kind way he talks to me, the way he makes me smile like no one ever has, and the way he makes me feel on the inside, and the way it shows on the outside, I feel butterflies swarming, and the times when my face turns into a red tomato when he jokes around that I have a crush on him.
Even though it’s starting to come true, I never want him or anyone else to find out about it.
My cut was finished.
A drop of blood fell to the floor, along with many of my tears.