𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢 • 𝘱.𝘴

2; Peggy

Peggy Schuyler's Point of View

I stopped at a gas station once my phone struck 3:59 a.m. I don't know where I am going, but I won't stop. I wandered around the isles. If I am going to run away and become Maria Lewis, she'll need a look. Angelica's color is salmon pink. Eliza's color is pastel blue. My previous color was was yellow. Mine could be something that represents my character's new personality. I want Maria to be a beautiful yet dangerous girl. Somebody you wouldn't want to be involved with, but you find yourself becoming friends with. A luscious red rose surrounded by sharp thorns that wouldn't hesitate to make someone bleed. I want Maria to be a flirtatious socialist that parties from dusk 'till dawn. Basically the opposite of my old self, also known as Peggy. She was an awkward wallflower that allowed herself to be mistreated by her own bloodline. Peggy stood for nothing and fell for anything. Maria won't. In fact, Maria would be the center of attention, and if anyone tried to mock her, she would put them in their place. Maria didn't need someone to hold her. She needed nobody to protect her. She could take care of herself. I know what color would suit her. The color red. I always favored red, but I knew it never suited my persona.

I wandered around the isles of the gas station. The bright lights and vibrant shades of neon pinks and blues on signs made me squint, but my eyes eventually adjusted. I chose a matte red lipstick, mascara, a pack of gum, and a limited edition Skittles slushie along with a box of Skittles that I slipped into the cup. It was large, and it's not like the cashier would inspect it. I slipped the cosmetics and gum in there too. I would later pour the Skittles into the slushie. I placed the items on the conveyor belt and reached for my wallet. The cashier appeared to be in her early twenties. She had tan skin and lilac purple hair. She looked sleep deprived. "That'll be a dollar." Mumbled the tired cashier as she made eye contact with me. I saw the bags under her dark orbs. I handed her a dollar and she gave me my belongings.

I sat in my car, checking the time on my phone. 4: 13 a.m. I turned on the radio and began to cry. Was I truly making a good decision? Hopefully. I know I am a overly dramatic person. Everything I say and do is unimportant. I am unimportant. I always ask myself a complicated question: What is the purpose of my existence? When I was a small child, roughly 10 years old, I thought I was destined for greatness. I believed that if I worked hard enough, I could become a successful billionaire. But later on in life, I learned that success is meant only for the intellects. Not an outlandish teenager such as myself.

I wiped away my tears and began to drive. The atmosphere around me was soothing. The only sounds were the soft vocals of a skilled singer playing quietly on the radio and the calming sound of cars rushing by. I don't know where I am going, but I'm going somewhere. There's something very comforting about driving this early in the morning. I drove peacefully for possibly thirty minutes before my cell phone rang. I quickly checked the caller ID. Angelica was calling me. I fought the urge to answer and allowed it to ring. However, she would not give up. Angelica repeatedly called me at least five times after that, and then probably left with Eliza to go to the police.

I stopped at a empty parking lot and searched for events and places in my area. I found a 3-star hotel that I could stay at temporarily, and a nearby free concert starting at 8 p.m. tonight I could attend to meet people, which is also close to the hotel. There was also a shopping mall and other places to create Maria's look. I immediately set my GPS to the hotel and left.

(Word count: 699)