Feels Like Summer

a prologue of sorts

word count (wc): 793

MID FEBRUARY. She stomped on the brakes as the airbag inflated, slamming her back into the leather seat. Realizing she crashed into a tree, she brought her hands up to cover her mouth when a shocked laugh erupted from her lips.

"Shit," she murmured.

Knowing the car was in critical condition, she took the keys and turned off the ignition and got out, remembering to lock the doors so no one could steal her belongings. What a dumb thing to do, but she felt she needed to.

She noticed the sunset over the horizon, staring while it slowly went down without a slight remorse for her very situation. Which resulted in a sigh from her busted lips.

Wiping a strip of blood from her nose, she hadn't even noticed the injury. Hell, she probably had cuts lining her face from the soft, yet rough bag once it had inflated.

Once the sun had fully set, she began to see the city lights that lit up Sydney. Once illuminating her high school bedroom back home. She was so close, yet so far from the city.

Having realized that she had 12 miles to walk, she caved and called her mother. Feeling herself slightly fall unconcious. "Hello?"

But she knew what decision she'd be making once she called, right?

Wrong.

The second the ringing stopped and the signature greeting rang in her ears, regret hit her stomach like a boxer to a punching a bag.

This is a bad idea.

I should just hang up.

Why the hell did she answer on the first ring? I mean it's 11 PM, is she insane-

"Hello? Darling, is this you?"

And as she heard her mother's tired voice, without even meaning to, her eyes teared up and her lips quivered as regret, sorrow, and self pity washed over her, leaving her with a suffocating ache in her chest. Why was she even calling her? Wasn't this what she wanted? What she so desperately got away for? To deal with things on her own? To not depend on others to fix her problems? Digust sat in her throat when she swallowed, preparing herself to answer.

Her mother, Joy, continued to interigate her, not knowing if it was truly her daughter or some telemarketer. "I was told you changed your number. Could you please answer?"

A finger hovered over the end button, yet she retracted. A jolt of sadness, an aching memory of being home. The heart wrenching feeling of missed hugs and reassurance that everything will be alright. That she wasn't alone. Pushing her, giving her a reason to answer her mother.

"Sierra mentioned your number one of the days she stopped by, the new one looked similar to this one."

The poor girl was disheveled, almost knocked unconscious, she needed some sort of  assistance. But she knew deep down this was all her fault. She pushed everyone who came to her with open arms, away. She had a stubbornness to her that pissed almost all of her loved ones off, but they persevered, because they loved her.

"I had it written down.. It must be around here somewhere.. Hold on a minute."

It amazed her how the people she ignored and looked at with disgusted eyes stayed. It made her even more upset that they did so. She needed to feel independent. She needed the strength everyone told her she had.

She knew she, among others, needed to persevere in her own way and continue on in life. Walking toward her future with open arms, even if that future meant a crashed car, lifelong college debt, a lifeless accountant job that would probably end up in severe back problems, or even if that meant no looking back. No matter what.

But her legs began to numb after an hour or so of walking. The sting of needles poking at her post shocked skin, the pain numbing away the further she walked. Soon, the aching need of being isolated in her own bubble began to wear as she grew closer to home. And the only feeling that grew the further she walked was want.

Because soon enough, the only thing she could think of was..

Maybe I don't wanna be alone.

"Enya?"

-

sorry this was so long hehe

hope u liked it!

also for future reference, if anyone actually comes across this book, i'll keep the number count at the top of the chapter (but that also means i won't have much of an author's note at the end of every chapter, since (lets be honest no one likes author's notes) so to clear tings up: the author's note will take up like 000.1/10 of every chapter :-D)

also be prepared for an inconsistent publishing schedule. ;D