Runaway || Calum Hood

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Prologue

     James was a wild card. There wasn't a dull moment whenever I was around him and I wish it could have stayed that way sometimes. 

     James came from a bad town, from a bad family, and from a destiny set in stone. His mother was a druggie and his father was a thief, and the town was full of clones just like them. 

     He wanted a second chance and when he found me, he found his second chance and there was never a day that I wasn't reminded of this. He always called me his saving grace, and he was so proud of himself for having me all to himself. 

     I never wanted for anything when I was with him. Every now and then, I'll catch myself thinking back to him. Even now, I think about him as I remember something he once said to me. "What's dead and gone is not going to help you, not now, not ever. It's best to just move on," James told me and then he pulled me into his arms and I could feel the salty tears he was hiding from me on my shoulder. I pulled him closer.

     I let my head fall onto the bus window and watch the highway signs pass by in a blur. Maybe things would have been different if he'd never found his parents again. Maybe I would be different if I never found him. I don't think it works that way though. James still would have died, I would still be on the run from the law, his parents would still be worhtless fuck ups, and life would still suck for everyone. 

     The weather changes a total of about five times - from sunny, to rain, to cloudy, back to sunny, and then it begins to rain again and it doesn't stop this time. Along with the weather, the states I pass through change too, and each time it does, I feel a piece of myself break away with it. Each state I pass through, I think to myself, "Did I make it?" 

      This is such a mess. A beautiful and tragic mess. 

     "How much for one bedroom?" I ask the woman at the desk. 

     "How long are you plannin' to stay?" She responds. 

     Her face shows signs of old age. Her eyes are dull and sort of glossed over, wrinkles drawing an intricate pattern all over  her face. Her mouth is thin and her teeth are as real as her hair, which is a wig. I look down. "Maybe a month, if I'm lucky, two."

     "I'll need about $75 at the end of each week," she frowns at me and hands me the papers with the lodge's rules and regulations and my room key and I'm off to the elevator with what little stuff I brought with me right beside me. 

     Edmonton's Lodging House isn't as old as it sounds. This being said, it's far from contemporary but it's homey and that's exactly what I need right now. 

     For the majority of my life, I have been in and out of foster homes and all over the country in adoption centers. When I was about 12, I thought I'd found a pretty permanent home until they turned me out because they were moving and the humanities department didn't want me to go with them, seeing as the adoption wasn't finalized. 

     Then, when I was 16 and a half and at a boarding school in Chicago, James shows up and takes the school by storm. He said he hated me from the start and really despised the fact that I made him love me. If you were to ask me, I'd tell you that he had a great smile and that I really didn't like the thought of anyone but me having him. James would say that it was the way the sweat rolled off his muscles and the way his skin glistened when he finished running for PE. I was disgusted by the sweat, I'd never seen anyone sweat so much in my life. As far as I was concerned, this was abnormal and I was repulsed by the stench of it. But yes, he was beautiful in, at most, every aspect. He had his flaws, some that were undeniably wrong and unforgettable, but he was definitely someone that took your breath away when the light hit him a certain way. 

      I still haven't figured out if I was in love with him; the times that I thought about him, I felt like I was, but maybe that's being in love with the idea of him. 

     Looking down at the stapled packet in my hand, I inwardly groan. Rules and Regulations of Edmonton Lodging House. Jesus Christ, I just wanted a place to hide, not another boarding school. 

      Arriving at my room, I try to get my key to fit in the keyhole and end up having to jiggle it, and then finally force it, into opening. When I turn around to pick up my two bags, I bump right into someone who drops a, hopefully clean, paintbrush. 

    "Oh, my bad," we both say, looking up at the same time. I avoided eye contact with the stranger, as I usually do with people now.

     "No, really, it was mine," the guy says, chuckling a bit. "I really should pay more attention than I do, please forgive me!" He calls, walking farther down the corridor. 

      "Uh," I mumble and look back into the jar in the door, pushing it open the rest of the way. 

     The room is not small by any comparison. I had hoped for a bed and bath, at the least. But this room is equipped with both plus a kitchen, laundry space, and den. 

     In a wave of exhaustion and, probably, dizziness, I collapse on the bed. The moment my head hits the pillow, I'm out cold.