1. Destination Reached

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Pound. My heart hammers against my ribcage.

Pound. I'm wheezing as my lungs strain to expand and contract.

Pound. Pound. Pound. If this continues, I will pass out.

My legs feel like they will give way with it constant throbbing. Nonetheless, I take a surge and speed up, forcing myself to move forward. The stagnant air is already suffocating my lungs. I force my breath in and back out. In and then out. Instead of focusing on myself, I project it onto the outside world.

I am sprinting in a cramped alleyway with dim lighting and I turn as soon as I see a corner. My throat is constricting and I am forced to stop. I look back to see that they are gone. I heave a breath of relief and the thudding of my heartbeat starts to steady.

This is the life that I have chosen. I have finally escaped them and I've finally set foot on Chicago. I will not go back; I just have to not get caught. It won't be easy finding me since my life was never documented. I have no identity. No one knows of my existence except for my father and his business. My hands search my pockets for the crumbled piece of note with the address: 110 Hanson St. 94513. A new hope surfaces in me and I finally feel like I can let go of my past.

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After searching for so many hours, I've come to the conclusion that I am directionally challenged. And of course I have to trip on a pebble. I wonder how things would be if everything was normal. If I grew up in a normal family, had a normal life. But I decide to not let these things get to me. Things haven't worked well in my favor from the beginning of my life, but I choose to fight. I refuse to let everyone dictate my life. I own my life.

I finally arrive at the destination.

It turns out that it is a pretty good looking house. Like someone rich lives here. I try to hide my nervousness and excitement and gather my courage to ring the doorbell. Silence. As I ready myself to ring again, the door swings open, catching me off guard.

Toned abs. Strong arms. My heart skipped a beat. Heat rushes up my cheeks as I realize there a half-naked man waiting. He is about one head taller than me, and I am 5'7. His brown hair is disheveled and he smells of cologne.

"Who the hell are you?" The deep harsh voice slaps me back to reality. I quickly snap my eyes up to his face, recovering from my trance. His eyes, his grey orbs, give off a sense of annoyance and coldness. He looks at me like he is angry at me, like he hates me or something.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you." I think of something to say to not anger him further. I don't know why he's already this rude to me. We didn't even meet yet. "I'm Stacy and my a-aunt told me to come here," I stammer. Dammit, I already sound scared.

He pauses, then for a second I see a smirk. But it vanishes as quickly as it appears. It is replaced by a warm smile. We both stand there. I don't really know how to react because he's acting weird. Just five seconds ago he was rude right when he saw me and now that attitude is gone. "That's right, you're Stacy" His brow creases and his eyes harden, making him look deep in thought. I remain focused on his grey orbs, while his trail onto the crumbled note I was holding.

Before I can react, I feel a harsh grip on my arms. I am pulled into a dim-litted house. I accidentally let out a strangled gasp as anticipation grips me. The door slams shut behind me I realize that I am trapped between the man and the door. His determined grey eyes drills into my wide confused ones. 

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