Don't Stop Believin' (COMPLETED)

2. Highway to Hell

HIGHWAY TO HELL - ACDC

Athour's Note:

Thank U for reading my little story :) So in this chapter there will be a little from Katies past and you'll get to know her a little better (hopefully ^^). And please fan/vote/comment what you think about it. It would mean a lot :)

Hope U enjoy! :D

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It didn’t matter how much mom pulled down the heat in the car, it still became warmer and warmer in it. The sun had just had time to go down behind the skyscrapers and hopefully soon the heat would go down a bit in the upcoming quarter. It had been an extremely  hot day for being April, but the sweat was still almost running down to my forehead after the nearly four hour long car ride from the airport and my head hurt so badly that I thought it would explode. Kevin sat next to me in the backseat of the brand new BMW that daddy got from his new job and his headphones were pressed into his ears, just like mine was. Unlike me, he sang loudly as each new song began, and if there was something Kevin could not do it was to sing. My mother had stopped trying to tell him to stop for over an hour ago and the rest of us simply had to accept the fact that the family's only son broke our eardrums.

But despite his terrible singing technique, it was not what bothered me the most. Somehow (don’t ask me how), he had managed to get his skateboard into the car and he couldn’t stop running around with it on the little space he had left at his feet. I was getting mad at him! I took a deep breath, clenched my hands hard to try to stop the rage that was bubbling up inside me and stared out the car window to my left. But what I saw there had already made me depressed for over an hour and a half.

The sweets in the bag I got from Leah before we left was gone and the chocolate had unfortunately melted. My tongue and throat was screaming for liquid but the one and a half-liter coke bottle I and my dear brother had brought, we had drunk after just an hour drive. I was so tired of the car and the strange smell made me think of Aunt Angela's old brown couch, apparently passed down through several generations. I shivered just thinking about the prickly crinkled fabric that scratched that into hell.

"Dad ... how far is it to go ...?" I said in pain, just as I had done every ten minutes the last hour. Dad, who apparently was in much better mood than the rest of us, smiled and answered me without thinking.

"It’s not far now, baby. We just have to go through this neighborhood too," he replied, and devoted his attention to the fully-loaded road. Although I had wished that it was only one block left, it would have taken a half an hour just to drive through it. How could there be so many cars in one place! But unfortunately, my dad’s encouraging words didn’t have the effect on me that he wanted. Just as I had asked every ten minutes he had answered exactly the same thing to my question. Instead, I turned to my mother, who sat on the passenger seat diagonally in front of me. Her cheeks were red from the heat and her dark blond hair had stuck a little at the top of the forehead, just at the hairline. She smiled sadly at me and I knew exactly what she felt.

We had had a good life on our small farm in Colorado. We might not have been the wealthiest family and we had definitely not owned a pool, but we had a good time. My parents had jobs that they really liked, and both I and Kevin had enjoyed the school, even though our friends may not have lived next door to us. But I remembered the day who torn up my old wounds and caused them to bleed again, that day in December.