New name, new town, same old me

Chapter One - Brand New Start

A/N: Thank you for clicking on my story! I’m a fairly new writer to Wattpad, and it means everything! Please, read, fan, comment and vote.

This chapter’s named after Paul Weller’s song – Brand New Start. It’s not following the lyrics, but I love that song, and it seemed to fit. All chapters will be named after a song.

 

New town, new start. With the people I knew, it wasn’t hard to start again. A few fake documents, and I was set. No longer was I Kate Brown. I had gone back to the name my parents had given me: Dawn Winters. Strangely fitting, as I had been born just as the sun was rising and I was as cold as the winter months.

I wasn’t a weakling, by any means. The last place I’d come from, I’d been in the biggest biker gang in the State, until things went downhill... but that’s not my story anymore.

I’d re-started too many times, but no-one had ever missed me. I don’t know if it would be different this time, but I changed my name anyway. No-one who mattered knew my real name.

I changed my phone, deleted my Facebook account, and changed State. I’d taken every precaution I could think of, but I was still worried it wouldn’t be enough. I could always run again. I tended to do that when things got too hard. I ran.

I pulled my bike up at the apartment I’d bought. It was the penthouse of a thirteen story building. It would’ve cost a normal person an arm and a leg, but money was not a problem for me. I could get enough money to but ten of these apartments in an hour. I didn’t worry about that.

I took my lift, and walked into the place. I hadn’t ever seen it before, but I was pleased. I quickly found a bathroom and cleaned the blood from my face, resting the helmet on the toilet. The cut on my forehead wasn’t deep or big, it wouldn’t scar, but it stung. I dug in my small backpack and found a band-aid. When it was sorted, I picked up my helmet and went to explore the rest of the place.

There were three large bedrooms, each with an en-suite. I decided to take the one with the balcony, as the view was amazing. There was a kitchen/dining room, with an upper ledge; I decided it would be my lounge. A spare bathroom, and a medium sized room I decided would be my study.

It was bare, and now seemed like a good time to go shopping. Locking up, and I’d made sure there were extra locks, I headed out on my bike.

I loved my bike. A Ducati Streetfighter, in red. I loved it, so much. I used to have a Harley, but I sold it and bought this when I started here. I loved the feeling of wind in my hair, the feeling of being part of the bike. The thrill of trying to control the amazing beast beneath me, the thrill of knowing I’d probably die if I fell.

I pulled up at the mall and hopped off. Someone let out a low whistle.

“Nice bike,” he said, and I looked at him. He seemed around my age, about 6ft tall, with ice blue eyes and brown hair, and he was leaning against a Ducati Hypermotard 1100 in black! Beside him was a Ducati Multistrada 1200 S Sport. What can I say? I love bikes!

“You too,” I say, almost drooling at his, “It’s beautiful,”

“She,” he corrected me, “Annette,”

“Sorry,” I say, with a smile, “Hi Annette,” I say, waving to the bike. He laughs.

“You’re funny. I’m Matt,” he said, sticking his hand out.

“K- Dawn,” I correct myself, shaking his hand

“You sure? You don’t seem to know,” he said, smiling.