Chasing The Bad

[1]

No Place Like Home

Autumn-

Punch

Punch

Kick

Punch

In the course of events taking place in the last year, I have been through a lot. My dad kicked me out of the house, I got in a lot of trouble, and my favorite dog died. My father said that if I don't get my act together I will most likely be put through boot camp. For all I care, he can do whatever he wants, but it doesn't mean that I will stay for the actual camp.

The only thing going through my mind nowadays, well besides the fact that Jared cheated on me, but what am I supposed to suspect. I am a stupid person and I wasn't good enough for him. This is how I have spent most of my days since the incident. Punching things or working, but who needs friends anyways. That just takes up time and space in my day that I don't tend to have.

At the ripe age of eighteen was when my life turned around. I caught my then-boyfriend cheating on me with one of my so-called friends and then it turns out that my mother has all of sudden wanted to come into my life as if nothing has happened before. Sure, I give my mother kudos for trying to get back into my life, but she shouldn't have left me when I was four with some old fart that I called my father. It was ludicrous of her to do it, but here I am still punching this stupid punching bag at six o'clock in the freaking morning.

Punch

Punch

Kick

Punch

After that last punch, I may have sent the bag to the ground. "Well shit," I mutter as I pick up my towel and water bottle before walking to another bag. Guess there's another thing that I will have to replace besides the many pillows, one of my walls, and a door that goes to my bedroom.

By the time that I get done, it's nearing lunchtime, so I head towards the diner near the end of the road. I have been here a couple of times in the past couple of weeks, but it's just your basic 50's style diner. Well, that was the understatement of the century because I have been here a lot in the last couple of weeks. I guess that is what happens when you move to a new town. That's right I did say a 'new' town, well it should be a new state, but that's another story in itself.

I just had to get away from this hell hole that I used to call home. They say that this person is supposed to love you unconditionally, yet here I am sitting across the country waiting for them to find me again. This person is my dad. James Pennington was my father and I hated it. The all-American CEO of Pennington Industries is my father and I couldn't care the very least. He never wanted kids in the first place, but it's not my fault that his sperm attached itself to an egg of a hooker. That's right people my mom is a hooker.

"You know if you keep on staring at me I'm gonna have to ask you for your number," a voice suddenly says and I nearly jump out of the stool I was sitting on.

"I wasn't even staring at you, nimrod," I tell the seemingly hot guy that is randomly sitting across from me. I wasn't even looking in the same direction as he was sitting. Or maybe I was, but I wasn't looking at him.

"Sure you were. It's not every day that I get a hot girl looking at me," the hot guy says to me. He just called me hot. Whoa... A random stranger called me hot.

"Should I be flattered that you called me hot?" By now I managed to crack a smile on my lips. It's been forever since I have smiled and it kinda feels good.

"Well if you called me hot, I would be flattered," he straight out tells me.

"Well, I can't even really tell you that since I don't even know your name," boy I sure do hope he gives me his number because he's kinda cute, and nice. I don't even know where I managed to pull that out from.

"The names Braxton. Braxton Moore," okay cool it, James Bond. "Yours?"

"Autumn Drake," I say before I go back to stabbing the piece of the pie that was just set in front of me.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady," I can already tell that this boy is a sweet talker already and with that I just roll my eyes in response. It was sweet-talking that put me in this place the first time. Though this is different. he had the whole bad boy facade to him.

"Look it was nice talking to you, but I have someplace to be," I lie and place two fives down by my glass. The truth is I don't have somewhere to be unless you count staring at the broken wall in your apartment some place to be. Most days it seems like it's an excellent place to be.

With that, I just walk out of the dinner and into the abyss with my hands in my pocket moping like the depressed eighteen-year-old I am.

This is what I am accustomed to. I find the comfort or lack thereof the comfort in my apartment more pleasurable than most socially engaged outings. I don't have many friends anymore because all I did was just push them away when things were getting tough, but that's the norm these days. I mean all the teenagers are doing it, so why can't I?

Most of the time I devote myself to staring at my wall thinking about my miserable life, but today was different. I was thinking about the guy at the dinner which was strange and weird on my part. Not the fact that my so-called father is trying to find me again, but the guy at the diner whose name was Braxton. It's an odd feeling of thinking of something other than your past and for the sake of humanity, it feels good.

Even though I was viewed as the bad girl, it's not as cracked out as everybody sees it to be. Sure, it has some of its perks, but we usually have a reason why for this. I have my reason and others have their reasons, but that's another story for another day.