dream

- Oxford Street -

I honestly don't know where I'm going. I have little to no friends to call even if I did want to spend my day attempting to socialise; which I don't.

At school I keep my head down, I don't bother trying to make friends with snobby rich kids, the team captains, head cheerleaders or even the quiet ones.

I'm definitely not bullied at school, everybody just seems to accept me for who I am. Most people even attempt to talk to me from time to time but fail miserably, although that might be because I have no sense of humour and can't hold a conversation, not that I try to have either of these life skills.

Besides, I'm in my last few weeks of high school, most of them won't remember me in a month. Which doesn't bother me in the slightest if you were wondering, nothing does.

I should be studying for my finals right now, instead of walking to an unknown place, but I just don't think I have the motivation for it. When I do study it is only for my parents benefit.

They think something is wrong with me, the fact that I don't socialise like 'normal' teenagers my age and would prefer to never talk to anyone ever again rather than try to may have put that idea in their heads.

Although there is nothing wrong with me, I believe I understand the concept of life more than everyone else - that being that life has no meaning. Its only purpose is to test us to see whether we are strong enough to conquer the theory of after-life.

We work, we cry, we laugh, we try and for what? Only to die in the end. I understand that, yet there is something wrong with me for knowing this? I believe there isn't anything wrong with me, but something wrong with everyone for being so gullible that life is exactly what it seems.

Rather than bothering myself over it, I pull my bus pass out of my pocket and jump on the first bus that pulls up. I don't look at the driver or reply when he wishes me a good morning and walk straight to the back of the bus, keeping my head down the whole way, and sit down in the furthest chair from everyone on-board.

I keep my eyes focused on the blurry images rushing pass the window, taking in everything but not having a clue about where I am and before I know it, the bus driver is standing only a few feet away from where I am seated, waving a large hand in front of my face.

I pull out one of my earphones and stare at him, waiting for him to speak. "I'm sorry ma'am but this is where the bus terminates" he apologises half-heartedly.

I snap my head back to the window and realise the pictures that had been rushing pass have frozen. All I could see was a busy street with the light buzz of people talking. I hadn't even realised.

"Oh- er- erm-" I try to form a coherent sentence to ask the driver where exactly I am but he answers it before I'm able to.

"We're in Oxford Street miss" he awkwardly states, smiling in attempt to hide his anxiety of talking to me.

"How long have I been on this bus?" I ask, feeling utterly ridiculous.
"Around 2 hours, 3 at most miss" he answers with no judgement.

"3 hours? Wha- What time is it?" I begin to panic.
"5:38 in the evening" the driver points at the automatic clock where it says above where we are, in 'Oxford Street'.

"Oh- erm- right- thank you?" I rush the words and throw my purse around my shoulder before practically running off the bus.

People from every direction barge and push me out of the way as soon as my feet touch the ground.

I want to scream. How can this many people be at one place at the same time? Why would anyone want to be here?

A fear crashes over me as I realise I have no way of getting home, I need to ask for directions and that is the last thing I am prepared to do.

I look around me, taking in my surroundings, before doing anything dramatic and decide to try and get out of as much of the crowd as I can. Spotting a small book store, I head in the direction of it as quickly as my legs will take me.

I crash through the door, nearly crying from relief at the fact that nobody seems to want to go to a shabby book store and slam the door behind me.

At first I didn't think I heard him properly, I was too relieved that I was finally safe from the cattle of people, but when I did I was brought back to reality and realised how stupid I must look.

"May I ask what you're doing?" his voice was low and husky, yet almost like velvet as he spoke.

I raise my head up as slow as I could manage, without making eye contact, and reply in a whimper, "How do I get home from here?"

"Look, I don't know you so how would you expect me to know where 'home' is?" he rolls his hazel green eyes at me.

I ignore him and pull my earphones out of my phone, they must of fallen out of my ears when I was nearly trampled on by the cattle, and shove them into my purse. I dial my mothers number and begin to walk to the back of the store, away from him.

She answers on the second ring, "Ariel? Are you okay sweetie?"
"No" I wine, "please don't be mad" I beg.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She's starting to panic, I should've know better than to call her.
"How do I get home from Oxford Street?" I nearly whisper.

"You're where!" she nearly screams.
"Oxford street" I repeat, "I'm so sorry mum, I just jumped on a bus and now I don't know how to get home" I explain.

She laughs. At a time like this, my mother is laughing.
"Get the opposite bus back hunny, dinner will be on the table soon" she snickers. Why is she laughing?
"What's funny?"
"You're normal after all" she says before hanging up.

"You 'jumped on a bus and now you don't know how to get home'?" he quotes with his fingers.
"Did anyone ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?" I snap, wondering where I got the confidence from. It's been a long day.

"Yes, but that was to priceless to miss" he shakes his head, a strand of dark hair falling over his face as he does so, "plus, this store is pretty quiet, I heard you from the front of the store"

"Right..." I should've known, "well that's my que to leave" I nod, signalling a goodbye.

"I don't even know your name?" he asks.
"Why would you need to know my name?" I huff.
"I don't" he rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

I laugh, "Ariel Hill" I tell him.
"Harry Styles" he tells me.