The road to no-man's land, USA was a never-ending one.
The fact that she was using a six year old road map, the majority of it coated in coffee stains, probably didn't make it any less difficult.
The overwhelming masses of Lodgepole Pines loomed over the road, gathered together like a hoard of giants. They were an essential element that made up the atmosphere of Port Angeles, Washington, and the deciding factor for Lydia.
She had driven 3,000 miles away from her up-scale hometown in North Carolina the day after she received her high school diploma. With her departure, she left a note in her absence for her parents, who would probably notice she had skipped town in about six months time. Truth be told, they probably thought she had been gone for a while. After all, they were rarely around to see her.
Lydia's parents, Geneva and John Kelley, were exceptionally successful business figures. Well, her father had. Her mother had been successful in playing the perfect wife from the cliche movies with manicured nails and designer handbags.
They were masters at being alive. Their pockets were lined with big bills and their debit cards had deep gray scratches from overuse. The art of traveling for enjoyment, impulse decision making, and living was completely out of their standard vocabulary.
At the age of ten, Lydia was learning how to make a living instead of chasing boys on the playground, braiding hair, and coloring pictures of imaginary creatures. Lydia resented the fact that no matter how she lived the entirety of her life, she could never revive those moments.
Lydia glanced around the inside of her Fiat and realized that every possession that had ever been truly hers was crammed in the miniature back seat. A silent laugh bounced throughout her brain and a small, subtle smile lit up her face.
There were no remnants of her cage left. Her parents could live how they had always desired to. Somehow, as wicked as it sounded, Lydia was okay with that. She was okay with the fact that they were better off without her because maybe, she was better off without them too.
She rolled down the window and stuck her arm out to caress the cool air. She felt the wind curl around her hand and invade her warm space. The roads were slightly crumbling around the edges, but the air was pure and that is what she loved.
As she pushed on her accelerator to climb the forreign mountainous terrain, she let the gates of joy break apart within her heart, never to close on her again.
YOU ARE READING
Deviant
Werewolf"I could trace the curve of his face with the glance of my eyes. An elongated nose, with a wide base making a staple on his unique face, and his coarse curls gathered together in a flock, falling over his forehead with the tilt of his head. Eyelids...
