Two Lanes Of Freedom

you can wake me up, in the dead of the night.

"It don't matter what plans I got I can break 'em, yeah I can turn this around at the next red light"

Brett sat in the empty music room at his college, letting himself become lost in the tune of the guitar and the greatness of the lyrics. Brett had always had a strong, undying passion for the guitar and music, and  had found that music is the only thing he could turn to when he felt that the world didn't understand. He loved his dear family, more than anything, but he couldn't see why they wouldn't accept him for who he actually is. A loving soul.

He'd been musical for as long as he can remember. But his father saw music as a huge waste of time. He wanted Brett to grow up to be that perfect A* student, which a well payed job and a sweet, flashy car, like had done.. well, that's what he expected, nothing less. But, he focused on that so much that he lost track of who Brett really was.

"If you wanna call me, call me, call me you don't have to worry about it baby. You can wake me up, in the dead of the night, wreck my plans baby that's alright".

As the clock ticked away, the more deep into the song he got. The tone of his voice fit perfectly with the strings of the guitar, like a missing piece to a puzzle. A mystery that was yet to be solved. His fingers came to a hault, his ears still ringing. The smile planted on his face could light up a thousand acres, all across the world. He had never heard anything so beautiful. His phones vibration broke his train of thoughts.

"Oh, hello?"

"Brett, where are you? You were supposed to be home an hour ago to help your mother with collecting Georgia and Dawson from school and help with the groceries".

His father, as usual. The school is only ten minutes down the road, surely they could walk home?!

"Oh, crap. Dad I'm sorry... I..uh..had extra study time and thought I might as well use it. You know me, study, study, study!" He chuckled nervously. He knew his father wouldn't take this bullcrap he was trying to feed him. He just couldn't spill out that he's been playing guitar instead of cramming for finals.

"Well, I guess that's good. But you could've atleast told us what was going on, you mother has been worried sick!"

"Sorry, dad. I'm leaving now anyway. I'll be home soon".

"Alright, son. Well, you can apologise to your mother by doing the dishes tonight, hmmmm?. Now hurry, I need to talk to you about something, in private".

The beating of his heart rapidly stopped as a million thoughts ran across his mind like a marathon. What did I do? Was it that I didn't clean my room? Or that I skipped maths to be here? Oh god they probably called my parents! Brett, calm down. Be cool.

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The engine of his truck came to a zombie-like hault, dying out as he just managed to park into the driveway. Brett lept out of the truck, slamming the door and aiming his foot into the tyre. Letting out a deep, angered breath he made his way over to the door, hearing the lock and calmly pushing it open. "I'm home!". Seconds later, he heard bare feet running across the wooden floor from the other room. "Brett!" his seven year old brother Dawson came running over to him, jumping into Brett's open arms. "Hey buddy, how was your day?" "It was so good! Today we learned about our times tables and I got all of them right! Well, some" he giggled. Brett smiled. He loved Dawson and his cheeky personality. "Sounds good buddy. Now, hop down, I gotta talk to dad" his voice had a melancholy tone to it. "You're in troubleeeeeeee!" Dawson sped away, light on his feet.

"Brett" an angry tone spoke behind him. He spun round on the heels of his shoes, turning to face his father. "Dad. What did you want to talk to me about?". His father's crossed arms dropped to his sides, an overwhelmingly diappointing look crawled across his face. "Brett, the University of Charleston called, about your application. Now, why would they do that if you were planning to study here, hmm?".

Oh crap, busted.

He couldn't speak. His whole plan of escaping Nashville had been flushed down the drain. All the memories he was going to make... seeing Lee-Anne again. "Brett, I'm waiting". His eyes met his fathers. Anger, disappointed, worry and just pure hatred swum around in them. "Dad, don't be ma-" "Don't me MAD? Well what else do you expect me to be! My own son has betrayed me and is planning to leave the state all for what? For some girl?". "SHE'S NOT JUST SOME GIRL DAD. FOR GOD'S SAKE YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND GOD DAMNIT!". His dad took a step back, knowing her had let off a ticking timebomb. Brett slowed his breathing to a soft pace, his hands stretching out from his fists. His knuckles had become a deep shade of red from the clenching. "I love her, dad. It's my life, not yours. It's not you job to tell me what I can and can't do, I'm not twelve anymore. I guess I'm not the perfect son you wanted. You can drown Georgia and Dawson in your hopes and dreams and tell them how much of a failure their older brother is. I'm done with Nashville".

"Well, if that's how you think, so be it. If you take one step outside that door, don't you ever come back".

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The rain beat heavily against the glass windows, so hard that Brett thought that the drops would eventually break the window and drown him.

"Please, remember me".

With a forceful mind, he shut off the radio and pushed his foot hard down on the pedal, shooting off down the dirt road like a shooting star in the night sky. A few more hours, he thought. A few more hours and I'll finally see her again. His head shook, brushing off the memory he didn't want to remember.

"I'm leaving. My dad has been transferred to Charleston. I'm so sorry, but we can't be together. I know what it feels like to miss someone, I can't put you through that . I love you, Brett".

A horn. A skid of his tyres. A scream. Another last flash of the white hot paint flew across the sky. Brett's eyes closed, praying to God that whatever was going on doesn't stop him from reaching Lee-Anne. A razor sharp pain impaled the left side of his head, putting his world into a deep sleep.

"Please, remember me".