[the past] | completed

escape

   I stood there in awe, just massaging my wrist and arm softly at the mark he made by grappling me.

   I just stuffed the phone back into the back pocket of my black ripped jeans. I sighed and turned around to leave the wyrm, when I saw three familiar faces. It was obvious they saw what happened.

I just took another deep breath and took a few steps toward them, closing the space by a few feet. I stared the red head straight in the eyes as Fangs and Toni watched, awaiting in anticipation.

"Does your idiotic and uncomprehending brain understand what just happened? I wonder, Cheryl, do you still think I fucked him?" I held just the right amount of sass and classiness that made her embarrassed and angered.

As I walked past the three of them, I looked back.

"Oh, and in case your itty-bitty brains didn't get that, we didn't. I'd die before that'd happen."

I flicked my ponytail over my shoulder and walked out in a stride. I hope they felt as demolished and torn down as I did when they royally insulted me.

   I just felt exasperated when the cool November breeze hit me like a truck. But it was a surprisingly good feeling. I felt powerful, and free again.

   I continued to walk as my feet for some reason led me to my trailer. I rolled my eyes and swung the door open. My eyes scanned the room and then I saw them. My ear buds.

   I smirked a bit then snatched them off the counter and untangled them as fast as I could. Now I knew why my feet took me here.

   An escape.

   It was that simple.

   Music was my way of relating to the world. That, and sardonic and sarcastic humor of course.

   It always made me feel at home. And that was a feeling I've never really felt before. Cause I don't exactly have a home.

   Oh yeah, I live in this shit-hole. The same shit-hole I lived in with my previously living but now dead grandmother. Amazing.

   But home is where the heart is. And I don't have a heart, so... well, I do but according to others, it's cold and black like my soul.

   Really though, home is where you're happy. And considering I haven't been happy in years, this is not a home to me.

   But music is. It always has been. It makes me feel alive and independent. It gives me confidence when I feel nothing of that sort. And it makes me feel strong when I feel weak.

   It all depends on the right song. And lucky for me, I'm equivalent to a world-class DJ.

   I popped the earbuds in my ears and then plugged them into my phone. As I strode away from the trailer, the cool breeze got heavy. The wind began to blow my body to the opposite direction, and I fought to keep walking.

   I couldn't even look down at my phone without having the powerful breeze enter and fog my vision, leaving me with no ability to even play any music.

   The wind became so fierce I even thought of turning back. Then, it suddenly stopped. No breeze at all. Nothing, whatsoever. I rolled my eyes at the dramatic turn it had taken then oh-so-calmly left.

   I then turned on my damaged phone and began to scroll through my options. I picked a playlist of songs I made myself.

   The lyrics had a deep meaning behind them that made me think of my own life. It made me feel emotions I don't normally feel as strong as I did. The cool breeze I had felt before slowly made its way back to embracing as I struggled with the mood changes.