Phoenix Awakening

Chapter Three

Despite it being warmer during the days, the nights were still chilly. Being too absorbed with her anger to realize she left the house in only plaid pajama shorts and a t-shirt, Saylor walked the dark streets of her neighborhood.

She should've been cold, but she noticed that the cooler temperatures didn't affect her over the years of sneaking out. She once snuck out in shorts and a sports bra during the winter, too upset to think about changing. By the time she came home, she wasn't even shivering.

Tonight her anger was different; her whole body was like a fire fueled by the thoughts of what had happened at dinner. Every time she would think of ways to calm down, the angry side crashed into her heart like waves in the ocean.

Sometimes Saylor hated how mad she would get over the minor things, but at the same time, the anger felt good. It made her feel more substantial.

Of course, Saylor felt terrible when she would explode at her parents; she couldn't help it. When the blinding anger sets in, she lets it take over. Yes, her parents tried to get her help by going to counseling or even getting her put onto a form pill.

Saylor knew she scared them a little and, to be honest, she loved it. There was nothing her parents could do to control their hot-headed daughter, and Saylor didn't like to be handled, anyway.

Every time they would get a call from Saylors' school, they knew it wasn't anything good. Saylor would always be in trouble for something, ranging from pulling other girls' hair to the distinct burn marks on other students' arms.

Middle school was worse than elementary. Saylor would sometimes engage in actual physical fights over a few words that offended her. All the students knew to watch what they said and did when she was around.

Now that she was in high school, most of her classmates turned their fear into the form of bullying. They called her a freak and enjoyed riling her up.

   Saylor tried not to let them get to her, but it was getting harder to keep her cool recently. Each comment that reached her ears had her biting her tongue to avoid lashing out.

The other half of the students were still afraid of her and scared of falling victim to her anger. Those students were the ones who gave Saylor the power of making them tremble with a simple, brief glare in their way.

  It made her feel better seeing them run away after hearing snide remarks made by others.

Her old, worn-out vans scuffing the ground were the only sound during her walk. No one was ever out at this time of night. Considering it was midnight on a school night, it made sense not to see a single soul outside. Saylor knew she would regret being out this late tomorrow, but she had to get out of that house.

If she stayed there, she knew things would've only gotten worse. Something about being in the fresh air helped cool her down when she was too angry to think straight.

Maybe it was the way the town's silence calmed the raging headache she would endure, or perhaps it was the comfort of the feeling of being alone, not having to worry about her parents.

Saylor could not wait for the day she would move out, and unbeknownst to her, so do her parents. She wanted to go out independently and not get lectured about life. Her dream comprised one main thing: getting the hell out of Fair Bay.

She wanted to travel the world before even thinking about settling down in one place. And wherever that place may be, it certainly won't be like her hometown she's in now.

  Quiet, no crime, boring, and uneventful was how she would describe Fair Bay to anyone who asked.

She honestly thought high school would prove her thoughts wrong, but surprise, it didn't. There were no weekend parties of drunk teenagers dancing in a blob of sweaty bodies. No secret meetups to get high or to hook up with someone.

The most gossip that happened at that school was when a senior named Kylie cut her hair above her shoulders. What a scandal, right?

This town rarely homed new people. She wished someone from out of town would appear one day just so there was something to talk about. Of course, it would never happen. All the people that live here will die here.

  Saylor didn't want to be like them. She didn't want to be stuck in the town where she was born to die in it.

Once she got out of this town, she would never come back. There wouldn't be a single thought of Fair Bay crossing her mind as she leaves it in the dust.

New Orleans would be Saylor's first stop on her world tour. Ever since doing a school project on the city in the fifth grade, she's been obsessed. The music, the festivals, the food, everything in that lively city was precisely what Saylor craved.

Saylor doubted any of her classmates would leave the sad town. They had generations of family who lived here before them and wouldn't dare break the legacy of their family names.

  She didn't have to worry about disappointing her ancestors since her family wasn't originally from Fair Bay.

After Saylor was born, they moved to the little town in Illinois. Theresa and Dave never explained to her the real reason for relocating, just that they wanted a fresh start with their newborn daughter.

  Telling a ten-year-old that the cause of their move was because of her biological parents' deaths wouldn't go too well.

Concluding that she had been out long enough, Saylor made her way back to the house. After wandering eleven blocks away, it would take thirty minutes to reach her destination. She would've stayed out longer, but she figured she'd try to get some sleep since it was a school night.

Trudging up to the familiar faded yellow house, she stood on the lawn, looking up at the second-story window of her room.

  Sighing in defeat, Saylor began her climb up the tree, which was coincidently rooted right beside her window. Halfway to the branch used as her bridge, her foot slipped, causing her to swear.

Regaining her footing, she resumed her climb. Finally reaching the branch level to her window, Saylor quietly pushed the glass up to allow her slim body to enter.

  Now standing on the carpeted floor of her bedroom, she kicked off her dirty vans and sat on her bed.

A burning sensation on her shin had her limping to the bathroom across the hall. Flipping the light switch on, Saylor set her foot onto the sink counter to examine her leg. An angry red scratch beneath her knee almost to her ankle met her tired amber eyes.

Groaning, Saylor reached into the drawer to her left, pulling out the ointment and a Band-Aid. Furrowing her eyebrows in concentration as she began slathering the cream onto the scratch, Saylor tossed the medicine back into the drawer. She placed the Band-Aid on her injury, shut the lights off, and lightly walked back to her bedroom.

Turning her crucial light off as she entered her room, she switched on the lamp on the desk that occupied a corner of her room and began finishing her homework.

Another hour has passed since she got home, making it now at two in the morning. Closing her textbook, Saylor decided it was time for bed.

Tiredly walking to the other side of the room, she skillfully avoided the random items on her floor. Reaching her bed without tripping over anything, Saylor slowly sunk onto her soft mattress.

Throwing back her coral comforter as she settled into the safety of her bed, Saylor laid there as she willed herself to sleep.

"Tomorrow's Wednesday. That means only two more days until the weekend." Saylor mumbled to herself as her eyes closed.

If only she knew what tomorrow had in store for our dear Saylor Williams.