lost // styles

chapter z e r o

c h a p t e r   z e r o

The splashing of the girl's torn leather boots, which had long since molded to her feet, as they dipped into the fresh puddles of rain water being the only sound echoing throughout the empty streets.

The long, dark hair cascading down to the small of her back was damp from the night's early rainfall. The murderous heat bringing moisture to form at her widow's peak. There was nothing worse than a humid evening in England, for everyone has long since accustomed to the cold rain and constant chilly air.

Her legs becoming sore, her body exhausted and close to collapsing from her running. Her escape was becoming much more difficult than she had expected it to be. She was aware of the risks and challenges that accompanied such a dangerous decision. But could have never fathomed for such a feeling of exhaustion, fatigue and dissatisfaction to overwhelm her.

It was loosing its worth, and it was not too late to turn the other way and return to the life style she seemingly couldn't bare.

She knew she wouldn't manage to live with herself knowing that she left him behind.

Yet, she couldn't return to the abuse she had enough endured all this time. Of that, she was sure.

The choice she would make could backfire easily. In truth, both options could end with a bad result. And she didn't think she could bare another loss in the game her life had become.

But the boy's words created a never ending pattern of thoughts in her mind.

She had to go, but where?