Storm Incoming

Chapter 1

     Hihi! thank you so much for clicking on my story. i hope it somewhat catches your interest and you will be willing to continue on. c:    

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"I don't know where you're going but do you have room for one more troubled soul?"  -"Alone Together", Fall Out Boy

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As soon as I turned 17 and graduated high school, I took the opportunity to move out of my parent's house and live by myself. Not that there was anything wrong with my parents and all, but they were just too... strict. I've always had a fascination with being free – completely free. I don't mean being free enough to travel to England after four years of saving up from one job, but the freeness of never having a schedule to follow. Never being confined to one place. I have a fascination with the idea of no job, house, or family owning me. The only thing to own me would be me. I wanted to be wild, crazy. I still do.

         My parents wanted me to go to university, live out the life that they've planned for me. It was a great life, sure, but it was definitely not what I wanted. There was just so much more I can do than attend a four year school and then find a job I will be forever committed to.

         I felt like they kept trying to change some part of me, as well. They didn't like my ripped shorts, and my baggy shirts. They didn't like that I dyed my brunette hair blonde – they kept reminding me how "pretty" and "clean" the original colour was. I liked it. It was also easier to put highlights in this way.

         And so, I picked up my bags and I left. Simple as that.

         Not to say that it was easy. I certainly don't recommend it to anyone. Living on my own meant that financial problems were a thing now, as my parents certainly didn't want to send money to their runaway daughter. My life revolved around getting a job, renting a small apartment, paying my first few months of rent, and then getting kicked out. Then I'd move to another place, where I can continue to explore and do the exact same thing. Was it an ideal life? No, of course not. But the one thing that it gave me was freedom, and god did I love that feeling.

         A few weeks after I turned 18, I was once again evicted out of my apartment. By then, it had already been almost a year since I left, so such an event was quite common to me now. I mumbled my mandatory apologies to the landlord before packing the few things that I bad into a luggage and moving out.

         I didn't own any method of transportation. If I wanted to get somewhere, it was by either foot, subway, or taxi. Once again I was set for another location. Walking up to the bus station, I bought the next bus ticket that travelled out of the city.

         Since it was quite a late bus and a long ride, we stopped in the middle of the night to rest. Quite unusual, sure, but apparently there was still more than five hours left in the ride and it was either give the bus driver a break or face the chance of him falling asleep at the wheel.

         I hardly had money for a hotel. The little that I did have I didn't want to waste on a room for one night. This meant that I had to find someone who will be willing for me to spend the night at their place. The best way to do this? Find someone who would fuck me and then let me stay. It wasn't something I'm not used to, however. Sex and all that shenanigans were all something that I've fully experienced a number of times. If I had to use a guy – or girl, to get a bed to sleep in for one night, I surely would.

         I found myself going to the rather run down and shadier bar of the city. Sure, I could have visit any place that I desired, but I always found the people in these locations connected with me more. They weren't as uptight, or unexperienced losers looking for a night of "letting go" – whatever that meant. Most didn't look for commitment. Names were hardly exchanged most of the time.