Someone Like You

Chapter One

Brea

The shrill sounds of sirens are what wake me. Reaching out and feeling the empty space beside me is what makes my eyes open. Groggily, I reach for my glasses that are perched on the bedside table. Sliding them up my nose, I blink up at the moonlight seeping in through the gap between the blinds.

The loudness of the city is not something out of the ordinary. I've just been especially restless lately. The crack of my bones echo around the room as I stand. I peer through the window, down to the busy street below. Red and blue lights flash through the darkness. A police car chasing a loud car with 'P' plates attached to the front and back.

Exhaling, I tap my phone screen. It brightens, telling me it is almost five a.m. A chill sweeps over my bones as I realise, yet again, Mitch has stayed out all night.

I search his contact and call. It rings a few times before abruptly going to the message bank. A dull ache pulses through the back of my eyes. The day hasn't even started and already I feel like a hot mess.

My morning run clears my head a little. There must be a dozen others out running the same track as me. The soft footfalls on the cement soothe me as I up my pace, wanting to push myself a little further than usual today, in attempt to release the stress building in my muscles.

I pass joggers, walkers, and girls carrying their shoes with messy hair, their high heels clutched in their palms. I smile as I pass them. I've been there. Plenty of times. Especially the few months after my mother passed. That was a rough time that I try not to think about. It is difficult when the only person you truly felt like yourself with was suddenly stolen from you in a brutal and abrupt way, such as she did. We were each other's rock and since her passing, I have felt like I'm stuck mid-float with no anchor in sight to keep me steady.

My mind races a mile a minute and I feel the intense sensation of an anxiety attack threatening to take over. I run harder and faster until I'm drenched in sweat and my lungs are burning.

This 'thing' with Mitch has been casual for so long now that if it was going to progress into something, it would have by now. I don't feel all that cut up about the situation, which is a message in itself.

I'm about to walk out the front door of my apartment when my phone rings. My heart drops to my feet when I see that it is an 'unknown caller' from Glendale. I'm frozen as I stare down at the phone.

Glendale. The small country town I grew up in and have tried not to think about for ten years. The place I thought was my home. Until it happened.

There's only two people it could be. My father, or my brother. I haven't spoken to either of them in years. Why are they calling me? And at this hour?

The phone rings out and I keep blinking down at it, my heart beating a painful, uneven rhythm. In the next second, a ding sounds, letting me know a voicemail was left. Swallowing, I click on the message, hovering my thumb over it before I lock the screen and shove the phone away.

My mind is reeling as I hurry down the hallway, and down the stairs. The sky is darkening with each moment and I mutter a curse when I feel droplets of rain splatter across my arm. The sidewalk is busy and packed with people—like me—hurrying to get their morning coffee before their workday commences. The click-clack of heels on the cement, the muttering of 'good morning', and the sound of leather shoes squeaking with each steps fills the air.

I'm out of breath by the time I shove through the door of the café. It's warm inside and I immediately discard my coat, flinging my hair back from my shoulders irritably. I scan the room, and to no surprise, Mitch isn't here.