"Somewhere Down the Path"

Chapter 2: Taken

   The irritating ringing of my alarm awakens me at 7 AM sharp. It’s Monday. How fun. I throw back my covers and walk over to my closet. I find it easier to get dressed before heading into the bathroom. I don’t know why, it seems to save time. I decide on a pair of blue jeans, a black band tee that has “Mayday Parade” printed on front, and my favorite pair of black suede boots with three buckle straps on each boot. After I go through my usual morning routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth, I go back to my bedroom and settle myself down at the small vanity mirror that my grandmother bought for me on my 14th birthday.

   It was an antique, and sure, it was beautiful, but it gets more and more wobbly each day. I pull open the white drawer and pick up my small eye shadow palette, a bottle of cream foundation, and a small tube of black mascara. It’s pretty much the only makeup I wear. I skip everything if I’m lounging out at home, however. I place all of the contents back inside the drawer and proceed over to my night stand to grab my cell phone, lanyard, and then my backpack besides my bed. I sling the purple backpack over my shoulder and run downstairs to leave as soon as possible.

   I hate when the rest of my family wakes up and wants to talk about school and whatnot.  First of all, if anybody knows me well enough, nobody should even attempt to talk to me in the morning. Second, I despise school and just attend it because I want an education. The nitwits that I’m forced to learn with make it hard to continue wanting to pursue an education, however. I reach the bottom of the stairs and walk over to our tan floral printed sofa. I grabbed my white polar winter jacket and zipped it up, and I was ready to go. I made sure I had my house keys in my backpack, and then I gently pulled the knob of the front door open, and made my way out. Nobody woke up. Success! It was a briskly cold winter day. Old Man Winter seemed to forget the shower of snow upon our city, however.

   All of my friends and family hate snow except for me. I think snow is beautiful. The way it gently falls to the ground and sways in the air is peaceful. I’m about half of the way to my school, Lake High when I suddenly start hearing another pair of footsteps begin alongside the sound of my clicking footsteps, courtesy of my boots. A wave of paranoia flows through me. Don’t panic, I thought. It’s probably just your average human being making his/her way to their destination. The urge to whip my head around and judge whether I needed to take off running or not was suppressed by the belief that it was nothing and I should just continue on my way. I avoid having fear be openly displayed in my face and sped up my walking pace without being obvious.

   I pulled out my cell phone from my right jean pocket and tap the inbox button. No new text messages, what a surprise. I exhale a long sigh. I don’t expect much from my friends but a simple hello after a couple of days would be great. As I was about to begin composing a message to my friend, Crystal, I only managed to type “Hey, what have you-“before a gloved hand holding a white rag covered my face. The rag smelled odd and had a strong odor, and before my eyelids started to droop and close, I managed to quickly type in “call 911” and actually send it to Crys right before my body gave up on me and I went down.