The Runaways | c.h

Disposition 2

It is said that one can only inherit 50 percent of genes from both parents. And while sciences and mathematical calculations stand true for this, Luke thought otherwise. Him and his brother were spitting images of their father. Luke never complained, but tried to distance himself from the generic similarities between the two. They spoke the same, they walked the same, they looked the same. Luke wanted individuality. As he grew, he found himself trying ever so hard to become different. He had his lip pierced, he listened to punk rock, and he stopped talking. The few words he spoke to his family were only ones he had no use for. Sugar coated words for sugar coated people. People who were unaware of the brutal reality of his true emotions. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get away.
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Four thirty am. A time Luke had gotten use to seeing on his small digital clock, it's numbers shining green in the dark of his room. Insomnia kept Luke up most nights. He laid on his small twin sized bed, much too small for his lengthy body, he attempted to daydream of the many things in his life that he'd dread leaving behind. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing he'd regret or even miss when he'd finally get out of this town. He quietly shot up, out of his bed, walking to the wooden closet on the side of his bedroom. He'd already packed. He'd never been one for spontaneous action. He knew what he wanted and he was sure he'd go through with it. Today was the day. Grabbing his bag from the closet, he threw on some black jeans and a white t shirt, along with a light jacket. He liked the frigid weather, the cold air made him feel free. Pulling his bag over his broad shoulders, he reached down, sliding on a worn down pair of black Converses. He then walked down the marble steps, careful not to make sounds. Quietly yet briskly walking to the family dining room, he slid open the cold glass doors, and stepped out into the grass. He paused. This is it, he thought. Inhaling deeply, he took his first few steps, as if waiting for a sign indicating that he should stay. There was nothing. So he ran. He didn't know where he was going, or where he would end up, but he would never look back.