Paranoia coursed through my bloodstream. Every pair of eyes felt like they were on me, every car would swerve onto the sidewalk and run me back straight against the brick wall at my side, everyone on a jog would stop to mug me.
So what.
Despite the sarcasm flooding through my mind to calm myslef, and even though the constant glancing around wasn't really helping me, I couldn't help it; I was scared out of my mind.
Mary M. Johanson was one hell of a horror show when it came to being on her bad side-for God's sake, and I have the scars to show for my mother's anger; not just physical. Her reaction, if I get caught, is enough to make me worry. What would happen to Lauren? My mother was basically a world-class bitch; she could track any secret down, and knew all the seperate ways to manipulate or frustrate somebody. I'd be found within a week by metro police-if she bothered to even call them-or she would just let me leave and be glad to not worry about me anymore. More gambling money, less arguing. My thoughts seem to end abrubtly when my train of thought realized the situation I'd put myself through oh so mindlessly; I'd boughten a bus ticket and was loading, large clicks and roars and chatter floating around the large bus station and into my head once I was out on the pavement to wait for the soon-to-come means of transportation.
After a few hours, it felt like, the bus finally arrived, the rest of the people jostling against my back as I found myself being shoved up onto the bus, my ticket out, hands shaking ever so softly.
I was rarely scared like this, and there were few moments I could recall where I was. As I sat down, the common memories of 'what exactly were those few times' staining the present.
Lauren's cries from last night rang through my ears as the bus doors clicked shut softly, and it pulled out of the parkinglot, heavy machinery rolling. I sat at the back of the bus, and immidiate regret hit me as hard as if the bus had ran into a brick wall, and I had been thrown through the windshield. I should've brought her. I shouldn't've left at all. I should've done it just after Mary left for her next leisure trip, not a day or two before she'd get back to find Lauren, 13 and alone with herself. I leaned my head against the sticky back of the seat in front of me, ready to be sick all over myself.
That seemed to be a common feeling, nowadays.
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Everything & Anything
PrzygodoweDespite the long amount of build-up, there's just about more of the result! But be warned, everything is not as it seems. (Teenage runaway Dean Winchester-alone for many years-finds himself to be not so much of a teenager anymore...and not alone, ei...
