Don't Let Me Fall

Chapter 1

"Dammit!"

Before I can suppress my frustration, the word rushes from my lips as my seat belt strangles my stomach. I faintly hear my mother reprimand me for 'using that kind of language' before yet another jolt of the small, 30-year-old ford fiesta she is currently driving hurls me dangerously close to the dashboard. The forest-green nail polish I had been coating onto my thumb just thirty seconds previously was now ruptured with a series of ugly crinkles not unlike a fern leaf. I knew it wasn't wise to paint my nails in the car, especially if that car is being controlled by my erratic mother.

"Sorry, sorry.... I didn't mean to swear." I mumble as she tuts at me.

By my standards, that hardly scratches the surface of swearing. By her standards, I have just committed a shocking crime. It's only 8 a.m. and my day is crawling slowly downwards. So much for optimism.

Not bothering to fix my nail, I press my forehead against the speckled glass of my window and watch as green and grey blur into a fast-paced river. 

The reason I'm out so early is that I'm moving out. I'm leaving my childhood home (hopefully) forever. Don't get me wrong, I love my mom. It's just that that house contains too much pain to continue living there. I've convinced myself I need a fresh start; I think mom has too. After this past year, all I can focus on is moving forward. And that begins with moving out.

Now, when I say moving out, I don't mean what you might be thinking. I'm not moving to a big city to 'chase my dreams' - in fact, I'm not even getting my own place. Long story short, my mom has an old friend that lives in Montana who works for this billion-dollar company that sells artwork. Don't ask me how someone can make billions of dollars out of art, because I honestly don't know. Anyway, this old friend is going on a world-wide adventure with her apparently extremely romantic husband. That husband also happens to be her boss. Yeah. But because the trip they're going on will take at least two years, she offered to let me stay there for as long as I need. 

You may be thinking that this sounds absolutely blissful, but there's a catch. 

I'm not the only one staying there.

I've been given a vague description of the other people staying there and I'll be honest, it doesn't sound promising. First of all, they're all guys. Not a single girl. So for the next however many months, I'll be living with a bunch of noisy hooligans that will probably be nice to me just to see if they can get me into bed with them. Ugh.

I wouldn't even have considered this if I wasn't desperate. But let's face it: I'm broke with a just as messed up past. And I really am completely and utterly desperate.

So, I packed my bags. And with about half an hour left on the road, I can't help the fizzing in my stomach.