Catching Broken Stars

Chapter 1

The heat settles on me like a wet blanket. I fan my face with my hand while swatting away flies with the other. I pant heavily as the sun burns my shoulders. Two hours walking in the Texan heat without water can be exhausting. The voices in my head are louder now, taunting me. I shake my head in frustration to clear them out. That helps as they slowly dissappate. Up ahead, a clear, pristine lake shimmers in the sunlight, the non-existent breeze creating ripples on the surface. I gasp and run towards it, the rest of the group following close behind. I can already feel the cool water washing over me when I dive in.

"Cassie! What are you doing?"

The screech of the old witch echoes around the valley and I come to a stop. My legs ache from the running, and walking, and I collapse onto the ground. The sand from the floor clings to my sticky face and neck, sticking together in little clumps. I feel thuds coming closer and I groan when I hear the second-hand ballerina flats tapping, creating little dust clouds. I grimace as I push myself off the ground, dusting off the looser grains of sand. Behind me I hear laughter and shouts of joy. Mrs Kendall stands in front of me, still tapping her foot.

"Cassie, you need some control. Now, at this rate, we won't get back for another hour. This, this messing around, has got to stop. It's time to calm down. For god's sakes Cassie, you're 18. Act like it for once." she exclaims.

I look down, ashamed, and mutter an apology. She huffs and picks up her long heavy skirt, swishing it side to side as she marches down to the lake. I sigh and fall back down on the ground. I've always been like this. Ever since I was 10. At 10, I was a ball of energy. My mother couldn't handle me anymore at home, as I was home-schooled, and shipped me off to a Christian boarding school in the middle of nowhere. It was a stern, "don't do this, don't do that, don't have any fun!" type of place, and we had no freedom. I was never one of those girls who wore makeup and dresses and paraded in front of boys, but I wasn't one of those Christian girls who never saw the light of day. Being in this school turned me into someone I never knew existed inside me.

I was so bored, so I decided to have a little fun. I became the crazy girl: the girl who could hear voices in her head, the girl who would break out of school just to roll in the dirt, the girl who would unscrew every single door in the school just to see them fall. Except I wasn't crazy. Apart from the voice, it was all an act. A performance. After three months there, they sent me back home with letters of worry and caution. Back to my old life. Back to reality. But that couldn't be more from the truth. I expected hugs and kisses; I got an escort to an asylum. At 10 I became the crazy one.

I slump onto the couch at home, drained. The walk back to school was deathly. The sun was at the highest point, creating a pit of heat in the valley. When we got back, all 26 of us ran into the gym where most of our air-conditioning was. It was so nice in there, but Mrs Kendall kicked us out and made us do extra work after because we were late. It took me 45 minutes to finish, but by then my younger brother had left with my ride home so I had to walk home in the blistering heat. That took another hour.

By the time I got home, my family had already finished eating dinner and now are nowhere to be found. I lay, not moving, on the couch, waiting for the heat to evaporate from my body. The cool air from the fan drifts over me and I smile. Only three more days till I'm free. I'll be gone before anyone knows. I get up and walk over to the kitchen, the cool tiles refreshing the soles of my feet. As I look through the cupboards, I notice the new sign my father has put up on the wall. Great, I think. Another one. My dad has this fetish with quotes to simulate a good mind frame and help make someone a better person. Ever since the incident at the girl's school, and countless times afterwards, he has started to build up a collection of quotes to inspire and control me. They are everywhere. I have at least 12 in my room, and probably about 30 in the household. I groan and trudge up to my room, slamming the door behind me.

My room is probably the best in the house, according to me. I have the only room on the top floor. It is a round room, with a balcony and tall windows around it. Sometimes, if I am feeling dangerous or just plain sad, I climb onto our roof and look down. We live on the edge of a cliff, so the lake is right at our doorstep. Sort of. Off my room there is a small crawl space, which leads to a small room that's big enough to fit a table and chair. That's where I plan. I throw my clothes onto the floor and change into my pyjamas. After locking my door I crawl to the little room. Strewn across the table are guidebooks, pins, pens, and sheets, and underneath a big map of the USA. In small places there are pins or dots. I'm going there. Everywhere. My dad got me a white jeep for my birthday last week. I'm going to travel in that. I have $30,000 in my savings account. That will be all I'm living on. My passport is safely tucked away in a drawer. I am leaving this town. I'm getting out of here. This time for real.

A/N: Hey, I hope you like the start of my story! I originally wrote this for a school project, but I liked it so much I continued writing it. Please comment on what you like or don't like; I really appreciate the feedback. Thanks!