Coming from an abusive household, Meredith Hill makes up her mind to finally escape. She runs till she meets a family friend who decides to take her in as one of her own. When high school is added to the mix, she must learn how to cope with her past...
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"Where ever you've gone? How, how, how? I just need to know That you won't forget about me" —Cloves
I take diligent yet short glances at my phone. My blue dot is getting closer to the red dot. I tear down a familiar street. Merle Ave.
The sudden burst of adrenaline makes me fall into complete fury. The last time I was here my angel was lying vulnerable and in pain. I never want to see her in pain again.
But of course, she just had to get caught up in my life. She should have stayed away. She should have run for the fucking hills. But she didn't. And even if she did I would have chased her, cause God forbid she's ever going to leave me. She's mine and mine only.
I steer carefully down the road, keeping my eye out for any sign of a phone or Meredith.
That's when I see it. A little rectangular device laying in the gutter across from a tattoo parlor. Her lavender phone case the only color in the dirt covered leaves. I drive closer and park my bike at the side of the curb. I pop the kick stand and hop off. The phone isn't too deep in the mirky water, so it's easy for me to grab.
Holding the phone in my hand I press the home button, yet nothing happens. Probably from the fact it was submerged. Her once perfectly polished phone screen is now decorated in cracks. I can almost see her reaction. When her pale face becomes a gorgeous shade of pink, her nostrils flare and her lips curls down into a frown. She would not be okay with this at all, but insist on keeping it.
But that's the thing, she'll never pay for anything again. I'll pay for everything she wants—no matter how long she protests. If I could buy her the fucking world I would.
Fuck, I'm whipped.
I continue to fiddle with the phone, looking for anyway to turn it on. Just when I'm about to give up, a small slip of paper tucked away in her case catches my eye. I eagerly remove her lavender case and take out the paper. The paper—that was once white, is now a dirty cream color. The sickening sight of blood makes my veins run I've cold.
But it's not the paper that enrages me. It's the words that adorn the paper.
I told you, you would pay. Don't worry though . . . I'll take very good care of your precious angel.
- J.B.
MEREDITH
Is this what failure feels like?
I thought I've failed before, at least that's what mother always said . . . but now I feel like I've failed my whole purpose of living. The whole reason I've left my mother was to get away and be free. But here I am.
