Lights

The Ride to Hell

A/N:

Sorry I haven't been updating this story like I should be. This time I'll actually be updating and editing. I hope you enjoy this edited chapter.

-kuudarth6771

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You know how every society has an age they celebrate? Whether it's the sweet sixteen or a quinceañera at fifteen. Almost every culture has an specific age to celebrate.

Seventeen is the age that matters most to us. It's sort of the same thing as the right of passage into adulthood; though it's much more complex than a social annulment.

When we turn seventeen a chemical reaction in our brains and ignites. It taps into our souls and sort of awakens them keeping them alert. For what you may be asking? When this chemical, anima sucus, or soul juice is activated when a soul is looking for it's second part.

In greek mythology the king of the gods, Zeus, originally created man with four arms, four legs, and two heads. He then decided that we were to much of a threat to the gods and split us in half. Creating two separate souls to a singular person.

Ever since the ancient split each and every soul brought into the world yearned for it's counterpart. As humans evolved as a race the souls created a mechanism to signal that it's other half was nearby.

When the signal is triggered a light soft glow appears above the heart. Over time the glowing of the souls became diverse and changed colors to identify its half.

The first of the glowing began in the late 4th century B.C. though it was dull and new it made an impact. The first recorded were stoned to death. Over time it was a sign that you were to be followed, for god himself chose the two. then it became witchcraft and more people got stoned to death.

Eventually it became so common that no one was killed over it. Though it still is a big deal to find your match....

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I slugged into the bathroom to continue my usual morning routine. When I saw myself in the mirror, I cringed at my hair that strangely resembled a bird's nest. I yawned as I grabbed my brush and began to attempt to tame it.

My hair has always been a little odd to me. My mother has long beautiful healthy blonde hair that when the light hits it it looks like thin elegant threads of gold. My father on the other hand has slick black hair that is gradually turning grey but still manages to stay handsome. Before his hair began to age and I suppose even after it always had a metallic shine to it that made it stick out from other dark hair.

My hair on the other hand isn't like their sleek or beautiful locks. Mine is brownish-brown with no pretty undertones or elegance. It is so boring I'm tempted to get a crazy hairstyle or dye it a wacky color for the hell of it.

When the mess on my head was moderately tamed I put my brush back. As I began to brush my teeth I inspected my haircut. The best way I can describe it without completely insulting myself is the early 2000's sk8ter boi haircut. It might be a bit outdated but you throw a beanie on that and no one will know.

When I spit and gargled some mouthwash I headed to my bedroom to get dressed. That's when I hear the familiar voices echoing up the stairs. Tip toed over to the railing and turned my left ear toward the voices.

"Oh I'd be happy to drive Aaron to school for you Mrs. H." I heard a testosterone induced voice say to my mother.

I froze.

'Oh God almighty don't do this to me.' I thought as I raced into my room to hurry and get ready.

I quickly tugged on the first clothes my hands touched and fumbled getting my half destroyed converse high-tops on. I then grabbed my messenger bag and sprinted out of my room towards the staircase.

I suddenly slammed into what felt like a brick wall. Following the laws of physics, I fell onto my butt.

Looking up from the floor I saw the owner of the voice that was so kind to offer me a ride earlier. The one, the only, douche ball himself; Tyler Jones. He smirked down at me like Bruce did in Finding Nemo. Aaron is punching bag, not friend.

I now realized that I would've had a better chance at leaping out the window, breaking my leg and, then getting hit by a bus; instead of trying to make a run for it down the stairs. Who cares what the neighbor's think any way? They're just a bunch of judging assholes.

Tyler watched me as I mentally facepalmed at my own stupidity with predatory like emerald eyes. Most of the girls at school claim that his eyes could claim your virginity if he looked at you long enough. Yeah that's pretty unlikely, it doesn't change the fact that they happily spread their legs for him every chance they get. You'd think he's freaking Moses spreading the red sea, hoes.

By this point I just looked like a dumbfounded idiot sitting on the floor. I stood up hanging my head in shame like the pathetic beaten puppy I was.

Out of the corner of my eye that grin grew eviler and wider as he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side like a predatory bird. "I heard that Mr. birthday boy needs a ride to school today. Lucky for you, I'm driving." Shh, you hear that? That's the sound of someone's stomach falling out of their ass out of pure fear.

I squared my shoulders a bit. "I um, was going to ride the bus today actually. They give smarties to people who have birthdays...I really like smarties."

Of course I didn't really want smarties from my creepy bus driver that always smells like eggs and cheap cologne. I mean she could at least try to use better quality cologne.

He laughed at me. In a mockingly kind voice he said, "Well then champ, I can buy you smarties if that's what you really want."

My mom climbed up the stairs. "Come on boys, you're going to be late."

Before I could bitch and moan about wanting to ride the bus I was forcefully drug to Tyler's beloved black 2015 Ford Mustang and tossed into the passenger's seat.

As he walked to the driver's side of the expensive vehicle I said a small prayer that I'll make it to school without incident.

But I think we all know that won't happen.