Backseat Serenade

one • time bomb

was laying up against the house.

The moment she did it she felt horrible, a gnawing at her chest and a dryness in her throat. Yet she couldn't bring it to herself to go back.

Sniffing like crazy, tears silently streaming, she had texted her friend April, telling her what happened. Her best friend was yelling at her in text, telling her to go back inside, because Hazel's parents were searching the neighborhood for her. April would know, because she lived five houses down.

Eventually, her father found her, huddled in a ball next to the fence, puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

She ran away again when she was fifteen, shoving as much food and money and blankets as she could in her backpack and hitching a bus. She had been mad because her brother spilled soda on her laptop during a giant essay she was almost finished with typing.

Cops found her a day later, sleeping outside a house three towns down in a sleeping bag.

She could not deal with anger well. She was 'the runner', commonly known as that around her neighborhood when her parents needed people to track her down. Sometimes she'd run and nobody would go looking, because they knew she would come back. Her parents had given up now. They thought she was coming back.

Hazel Aubrey Jackson was eighteen. There was no way in hell they would get her to step into that house again.

• • •

It had been daytime when she started to run. It was nearly black by now.

Hazel's feet were sore. Her legs were on fire, and her jaw was aching from clenching it in anger the whole time. Military school. How dare they.

They should be grateful. Her parents should be grateful that their child wasn't a pot dealer, that their child didn't murder anyone (although she had been coming pretty close to it lately to be honest), that their child didn't rob banks or abuse kittens. Grateful.

Hazel would not cry. She would not cry.

Shit, she didn't say goodbye to her siblings. Damn, Skylar and Charlotte and Lucas... Or even April. Hazel blinked hard. With no plan, no company, and barely any money, she was going to have to go home at some point. At some point she'd have to go to stupid military school.

Not yet, though. She needed to blow off some steam.

Hazel squeezed her midnight-black hoodie closer to her body in the cold night. Her loose black sweatpants billowed in the slight wind. Shit, she basically blended in with the dark night.

Fiddling with her metal lip ring, she decided it was time to go to bed. Her surroundings were dimly lit, but it looked to be a quiet and suburban area. Ah, there was a light on across the street! It looked like some sort of motel. Hopefully she had enough money.

Hiking diagonally, she began to cross the street towards the motel. A blinded light interrupted her vision and Hazel turned, to see a freaking truck driving right for her.