Destination 1974

Chapter 1

|I am not what I say I am. I am never what I say I am.|

~***~

1973; the era of flower power, and the birth of the God-awful phrase, "Have a nice day!" Mass murder cases across America also causes panic, but people just hide the pain behind cocaine and ecstasy.

What's a good place to start a story? I like to think of it as a dream - it starts right in the middle. You don't know how it started or where it'll go, but it seems like the perfect place since it's right where the action is. The beginning must be captivating, otherwise, it wouldn't be doing its job of keeping you distracted until the irritating alarm of reality sucks you into its void of no return.

Reality, oh yeah - I almost forgot.

I blink, finally breathing again, and feeling like a reanimated corpse. My breath gets caught in my throat as I soak up my surroundings like a hardened sponge. There's a special place in my mind where I store these messy memories, and they happen to live behind a brick wall. I'm standing beside the turntable by the window, and I lift the needle to stop the crunching noise coming from the speakers. I flip the record and place the needle on the specific track that I want. I drearily wipe my hands on the flower-patterned curtains, despising everything around me. I head over to the side door of the suburban home that's filled with the admirable sound of Mrs. Robinson.

The world is white with dark silhouettes as I stumble outside. I raise my arm above my head to block direct sunlight, allowing my eyes to adjust to the bright afternoon. I flip the blade in my blood-stained hand before shoving it in the back pocket of my jeans. The other pocket's filled with two bobby pins and a hair elastic. I adjust my satchel over my shoulder, making sure it's closed, and I make my way to the highway; farther from town, and into the countryside.

My legs tremble as I trudge along the side of the deserted highway. The warm country air breathes across my frail skin as I rub my arm across my damp forehead. My gaze casts over to the sign directing me to the next town over. My eyes drag across the words, and I impatiently tap my fingers along my thigh at the irritating amount of miles I have to walk. My skin cracks as my dirty face twists with disinterest at the gravel crunching under my worn boots.

I can't even remember what blood is mine and what isn't. Did I even bleed?

The sudden sound of an engine roaring echoes along the countryside as it drives up from behind at full speed. I watch the truck swoop by, well above the speed limit, and completely ignoring me. But, as if out of sheer luck - or misfortune - the tail lights shine as the brakes screech, and the pickup comes to a complete stop about ten or fifteen feet ahead of me.

"Dammit..." I mutter bitterly under my breath as the truck slowly starts backing up.

Another day in paradise.

The truck rolls to a stop beside me, and I take a deep breath before turning to face the person inside. Brown Eyed Girl is playing on the radio, and it's barely audible as I check out the driver.

It's a man, not too old, but not very young either; probably in his thirties. He's staring out at the road ahead of him with regret written all over his face. I can tell he's still contemplating whether this is a good idea or not. He harshly exhales before craning his neck to face me. The man has a clean stubble and curly chocolate coloured locks on his sweaty head. He clears his throat a bit and then leans on his open window with his hand swimming in his moppy hair.

"Where're you headed, miss?" His gravelly voice is intimidating, and my first reaction is to stare directly into his ocean-green eyes. His eyes are searching everywhere except me, which is honestly pretty understandable. I open my mouth to speak, but I choke on the lump that has abruptly appeared in my throat.

"I - uh...I don't really know...just - um - anywhere but here, I guess..." I cough out with a nervous stutter.

He raises an eyebrow suspiciously at me before his sight catches my fly-away hair again. He leans forward and leisurely crosses his arms over the wheel. He scans me intently with squinted eyes, and his eyebrows furrow in thought; he seems to have a pondering expression branded into his features.

"How old are you?" He asks firmly.

Why is he avoiding the subject of my painfully suspicious appearance?

"Sixteen, sir," I reply bluntly with my arms numbly hanging by my sides. His eyebrows lift up, and his confused expression becomes more vibrant as my response sinks into his brain.

"You're sixteen?" He leans closer to me, keeping his posture perfect. "What the hell happened to you?" He practically spits the words out while sitting up straight.

There's the million dollar question I was waiting for.

"I, uhh - that's a long story for a rainy day." I chew on the inside of my cheek and scratch the phantom itch on my collarbone. His expression morphs into anger while he rests his elbow on the open window. He takes a deep breath through his nose, and distressfully scruffs his fingers through his dark hair...again. The man closes his eyes, seemingly lost in a battlefield of thoughts. He finally exhales and faces me again with a smug-bitterness in his expression.

The man tightly grips both hands on his steering wheel and faces the dusty street ahead. He leans over and unlocks the passenger door without taking his eyes off of the road.

"Get in." The words practically roll out of his chest like an engine. I nod briefly, understanding that he obviously doesn't want to pry any further into my issue. I grab the handle, pull the heavy door open, climb inside the truck, and I slam the door shut once I'm comfortably sitting on the seat.

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Hi there! I hope you enjoyed my first chapter! If you liked it, you could click that little voting star to share your support if you're not one to be vocal on how much you liked it!

I'm gonna just introduce myself. My name is CE.Parker, but people online just call me Pebbs since my username for everything is peblezq. I actually have an account on here with that username, but I made a new one for my books because I wanted to take them more seriously and put more of my real name on them.

You guys can even call me Hen since that's my nickname in my day-to-day life. Whatever floats your boat, man.

Thanks for reading my book! :) What do ya think so far? Who do you trust more? Or do both characters seem sketchy to you?