Sorry about the long as wait, I had work and school and blah... But still, no excuses. I don't even know how long this is, probably not very. Oh well, the best I can do right now. Please enjoy the chapter, and sorry for any mistakes.
(CHAPTER EIGHT)
I had been sitting at this damn bus stop for forty minutes waiting for a bus to take me anywhere but here. I didn’t care where it took me; if a bus came, I would get on it. But no; not a single, bloody bus has stopped here or at any other bus stop even remotely close ever since I had walked out of that blasted classroom. I had seen one bus, but it was “out of service”.
I had my headphones in and was listening to some extremely depressing song by Simple Plan. Tears were strolling down my face as the lyrics hit me:
I open my eyes, I try to see but I’m blinded by the white light.
I can’t remember how, I can’t remember why I’m lying here tonight.
And I can’t stand the pain, and I can’t make it go away. No, I can’t stand the pain….
How could this happen to me? I made my mistakes. Got nowhere to run, the night goes on as I’m fading away.
I’m sick of this life. I just wanna scream. How could this happen to me?
The memories struck hard and I couldn’t hold back the sob in my throat. I cried like I had never cried before.
“Daddy,” I called out to the retreating figure of my father. He stormed to his car and flung his bags in the backseat.
“Daddy, don’t go! Please, please just don’t go!” I screamed. He sent me one last, sympathetic gaze my way before reversing into the street.
I started to turn my back when I heard the screeching of tires; heard the gut-wrenching sound of the cars screeching and squealing and reverberating against my ear drums before finally crashing together. I happened to see it all. I watched as my father reversed onto the road and a car – going at an illegal speed – run into my father.
“Daddy,” I let out the piercing scream that I’d been holding in. I collapsed to my knees as I saw my father’s body sticking out of the broken windshield of his car.
I couldn’t even register the driver getting out and checking the damage before coming to stand by me.
“Hey, are you alright?” It took me a moment to realise it wasn’t the driver’s voice, but of someone in the real world. I lifted my head and saw him.
“No.” I answered truthfully. He sat next to me, placing his hands on his knees.
“What’s wrong?” He asked me softly.
“I missed my bus.” I lowered my head because I knew I’d give away my lie. I was never a good liar, I was absolutely horrid. The guilt of lying to someone’s face ate away until I caved and admitted the truth. I guess that’s why I had no real social life – my mum always knew when I was sneaking out.
“I know that; how come you’re still here?” I lifted my head slightly and caught sight of those perfect blue eyes before lowering my gaze again.
“My home is at least an hour away and I didn’t want to risk walking home.”
“Have you got anyone you can call to pick you up?”
