Far From Home

Chapter One - The Beginning

Chapter One

Screee

The sound of slammed breaks screamed behind me, so quick and sudden it terrified me out of my skin. I piled my thoughts together, through the blood and wounds... What a mess, what a mess! Skin on gravel, blood on glass. Blood leaking and crying through the gravel down the road, down along the white lines. Glass searing through my skin, severed and dirty.

It's just so funny though, how a little object or event can change your entire future. Just one little step off the curb, just one millisecond too late.

I had always wondered what dying would be like, I often thought about it.

The lights. Oh, the lights. Over the yelling voices in my head and through my swollen, bruised eyes, all I could see was lights. Screaming, hurling, pulsing, the voices rambled.

It could've been the headlights of the car, or the distance ambulance sirens, or a by-standers phone... It was just lights. Everything seemed to be muted and on hold as my eyes had given themselves to this empty, light, whiteness that seemed to get bigger or closer and closer. It made the wounds, the windscreen's pieces stuck into my body, lighter; less painful. My body wanted to give in-- but in the back of my mind it still felt so wrong and wanted a fight.

But sometimes, the light wins. My damaged self couldn't handle it anymore... The light won, but truly it was a dark, dark place.

~*~

Weeks earlier...

Emptiness.

My latest fascination was the pills that rested within my bedroom cupboard, third shelf down, box beyond the plush toys, hidden compartment. All 92 of them, counted and in a clip-lock bag. It made me tremble, it made me hopeful. They were the back-up plan, my very last resort.

Never, would I ever use them. I thought about suicide but I wanted to disappear more, start over. The drugs would not help with that. But still, the further down the tunnel I got, the darker it was and the more I would think about the pills. The pills were my guardian-- there just in case.

Silence was my main name at school. I was alone, but I was lonely. The way out didn't seem reasonable -- my reputation, shyness made friends impossible to come by. I was depressed. But really, no matter how addicted to sadness you are, you just want hope, happiness.

School was not helping.

"Pandora."

Somebody's voice reached out to me, leaving me angst and confused. It was history, last period and the usual uneventful day. Substitute teacher unable to control students, explain theories and obnoxious teens wild.

"Um." I almost snapped my earphones in half, pushing on the pause button, hoping no one can read my mind. Images of a World War Three flashed in my mind-- if only I could commence it within my school. The hatred, boredom and sense of not belonging seemed unmanageable. Not that I would actually hurt anyone, of course.

"Pandora, have you ever thought about modelling?" A bitchy girl called out to me, in a sarcastic way making the compliment actually threatening.

I looked down at my clothes, my school uniform was crumpled up with a black worn, oversized jumper swinging over top. My legs were all silver anklets, ripped black pantyhose with runs and suede boots. I also had a bad taste in my mouth which told me my teased hair was now flat and just messy, and my coloured eyelids were smudged.

Sighing, I lifted up my pen off the desk, going back to my sketching and music for the rest of the lesson, attempting to ignore the teacher's lectures and other student's bullshit. It was just yet another typical day.