𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒍𝒆 | ✔

12 | The Runaway

SHE KEPT A STEADY hand over the wheel. In the background, the radio murmured classical music. For the first half-hour, it helped settle her down, but then she remembered where she was going. 

It was the same place she found as a kid. 

As a runaway. 

"Just keep calm..." Lottie cranked up the music. "It'll be fine. You're already driving, anyway."

It was 9:42 PM on a Thursday and she'd arrive in an hour. Overhead, the sun was setting, a bright orange, but she didn't care. The weekend was too far away. 

Lottie gripped the wheel, focusing on the music. 

Just yesterday, she had mended her friendship with Hazel. However, despite claiming she was fine, she could never truly be until she embraced her past. 

Getting there was the last piece of the puzzle. 

Then she looked down and smiled. Tomorrow I can give back the bracelet. Tomorrow I'll finally be okay. 

-

Flashback ~

The house was silent. 

Ear to basement door, she listened in, gripping her backpack straps. It weighed down over her shoulders, a burden, but she had to suck it up. It was either this or not bringing enough to survive on her own. 

She wasn't coming back, after all. 

A beat passed. 

Slow and steady, she descended the stairs, then neared her brother's bed. In her hand was a note, penned brief but neat. For one last time, she read it over and sighed. "You'll be fine, Eliott..."

If it weren't for the two lamps,  propped tall and thin beside each bed, the room would be consumed in darkness. 

She smiled. After staring down, studying his every feature, she tucked it under his pillow and turned. 

There was a groan, then stirring. 

She stiffened. When it went quiet, she peered back and nodded. Her brother was still out cold. The chance was still there and she was going to take it. 

After ascending the steps, she looked back and smiled. Normally, she wouldn't give it a second thought. But now, she was just going to observe; to take it all in, from the walls, grey and grim, to the spoiled milk at the bottom stair. 

It would be the last time, after all. 

Then, with a breath, she turned and twisted the knob. It creaked open. 

Again, she stiffened. 

Silence. 

So, gripping her straps, she emerged from the basement and squinted. It was pitch-black. 

One step at a time. This reeled in her mind until she was at the front door. One more glance around and she opened it, stepping out. 

The chill air bit at her. With a shutter, she pulled her black hoodie up and marched from the driveway. 

But that was when she stopped, peering back. 

Her bike - it'd be perfect. At nine, the car was out of the question. 

Soon enough, she had jumped on and pebbled out into the night. 

Into the unknown.