Safe (Rewritten)

A/N-

I said I was done with Safe, but that was a lie. Big, huge, freaking lie. The truth is, whenever I think about Safe, Paige shakes her head at me and says, "That's sooo not what happened. We both know it."

And, yeah, it's true. I feel like I didn't write Safe the best that I could. I love the plot and the characters and everything about it. You wouldn't get that from the very, very, very rough first draft currently up.

So, here we are! I've gotten more comfortable with Wattpad since the first version of Safe was written. With that, I hope to be able to put much more into the story.

Starting with the prologue, which will remain titled Cracks.

***

"Does it make you feel like a man,

When you push her around?"

- "Face Down", The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

***

Music pours from the radio, cool air blowing in through the partially opened windows. I close my eyes against the breeze, turning my head to the window and letting it mess up my worn out curls.

From the radio, Adele's powerful voice blasts out, filling my ears with her lyrics.

"Should I give up,

Or should I just keep chasing pavements,

Even if it leads no where?"

Lucas groans. "Not this shit again, Paige. You know I can't stand her. Seriously, the bitch makes no freaking sense."

I lift my eyes open, looking over to read his face. See, I've learned in the past year that you need to get every angle from something Lucas says in order to be sure he means it. I don't know why I still do it. Habit, I guess.

And his face matches his voice and words perfectly. Looking reproachful, he shakes his head and switches the radio station. Immediately, rap fills the car and I have to fight a grimace. That's another thing. I cannot change or dictate the radio. Lucas says it's because I'm fifteen and have yet to get my driver's license. He's eighteen, a full three years older than me. Our birthday's are only a week apart.

Sometimes, having an older boyfriend is too much. Especially one like Lucas. He constantly reminds me that I'm younger, going out of his way to party with his friends or smoke the occasional cigarette in front of me. Because he can.

"Was tonight fun?" I ask, playing with the strap on my sandal, propped on my left knee.

He just snorts. "Fun if you're in high school. Like you. Just wait. When you're older, you'll know what it means for a party to be 'fun'."

I decide to not respond. Lucas says that so often, he might as well get it tattooed or something. Engrave it on a necklace.

"Why are you so fucking quiet tonight?" Lucas tugs on my hair- I wore it down for the party-, making my head move in his direction.

"Why are you being so vulgar?" I snap back, not really thinking.

Bad move, Paigey-poo. You don't snap at Lucas.

But, to my surprise, Lucas just pushes my head away and rolls his eyes. "Don't worry, squirt, I'll try not to poison your innocent ears."

I set my mouth in a firm line.

Times like this, I hate him so much. He always talks down to me, treats me like a toddler. Once, he ordered me a happy meal at McDonald's. Words cannot express how mortified I was when he ruffled my hair on the way out.