Under My Thumb // Mick Jagger

001

I packed my backpack carefully in the morning, knowing I would never return back home once I left school. I couldn't take it anymore—my parents, my teachers, the other students at my school.

Everything.

It was all too much. I felt like I was suffocating in my small town in California.

And I had to get out, whatever that meant.

And I had to do it soon.

So, when the last bell rang, dismissing us from school, I was the first one out of my seat. If there was one thing I knew I would never miss, it was my high school. I swung my heavy black backpack, which was filled with everything I could think I would need while I'm on my own, over my shoulders and rush out the door of my math class, through the halls, and outside.

I didn't look back. Not once. I didn't need to, nor did I want to.

The sun was beating down, but I didn't mind too much. It's better to be hot than cold, that's what I thought anyway.

I cross the road, my scuffed Doc Martin boots leading the way, and make my way to the bus station that would take me anywhere but here—which just so happened to be exactly where I wanted to go.

The walk was much longer without my headphones, but I made it, nonetheless. I decided it was best to not bring my phone if I was leaving without telling anyone. The last thing I needed was someone tracking me down and bringing me right back here.

I hop on the first bus that stops, not bothering to check where it was heading off to. I could use a good surprise—it would be a change from my stagnant town where each day, week, month, and year would consistently repeat the same story.

The bus driver was an older man, probably about fifty, and he looked at me funny as I walked on, but he didn't say anything. He had a long beard, one that I desperately wished he would shave off, and big, bushy eyebrows. I walk passed him and take my seat on the first seat of the semi crowded bus, leaning my head on the window and holding my backpack on my lap tightly.

//

"Hey, girl," a voice calls. I open my eyes, confused as to where I was for a second before remembering what I had done.

I finally escaped my town.

And I must've fallen asleep while doing so.

I look over at the direction the voice came from to see the bus driver. "You've got to get off. My shift is over," he speaks in a bland voice that told me he hated his job—probably as much as he hated to shave.

It was fairly dark outside now. The dirty glass windows smudged with fingerprints was now much more apparent. How long have I been asleep for? I stand up and hold my backpack down by my side, uneasily making my way to the door. I didn't regret my decision to leave, but it was still a scary thing to do—especially at night.

"Where are we?" I ask the driver as I reach the last step.

He points outside, and I look over to see a big, well lit sign that read 'San Diego.' "San Diego," the driver says.

I nod my head and step outside. It was cooler now. Not too bad, but I was definitely glad I was wearing long sleeves. "Thanks," I call up to the bus driver.

He nods his head. "Be safe, girl." The doors hiss as they shut and I watch him drive off. There wasn't any going back now.

I put my backpack on properly and begin walking the busy streets of San Diego. I really just needed a place to buy something to eat right now. I haven't eaten since this morning.