RUNAWAY

09. TOO FAR INTO THE PAST

With my forehead still pressed against the glass door, I closed my eyes, and slowed down my breathing. Someone behind me tapped on my shoulder, causing me to jump slightly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the deep voice chuckled. I glanced over my shoulder and relaxed a bit when I saw Buck. As I turned around to face him, I let out a deep breath. Noticing my strange state, Buck titled his head and asked, "Are you okay?"

I nodded and put on a smile, not necessary fake but also not real. "Yeah, I'm fine," I replied simply. Buck narrowed his eyes, not really believing me, but shrugged it off anyway.

"You look like you could use a drink," He said honestly. Before I could protest, Buck wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me towards the bar. I followed along through the crowded building, walking through clusters of different people, and sat down at one of the empty stools. Buck walked behind the bar, and pulled a bottle of liquor off the glowing shelves that hung off the wall. He reached under the bar, grabbed two shot glasses, and began pouring the white, syrupy liquid into the tiny cups.

I propped my elbows on the bar, which was still sticky from before, and placed my head in my palms lazily. Buck sent me a smirk as he slid one shot glass across to me, keeping the other for himself. "You know I'm only sixteen, right?" Buck shrugged, completely clueless as to what I was talking about. I rolled my eyes and elaborated. "Can't you get in trouble for giving a minor alcohol?"

"Yeah, so?" He answered carelessly. "Besides, 'age is just a number'," Buck imitated my line from before. I chuckled and shook my head. He tilted his head down towards me and gave me a knowing look. "Since when do you care about breaking the law, anyway?"

I scoffed. "You don't know anything about me."

Buck seemed to think about this. "True.. but judging by the cuff on your left hand, the stacks of cash from your backpack earlier, and the blade in your back pocket, I think it's safe to say that you're not really one for following rules."

I chuckled and smirked, a little surprised that he noticed all these details. "Fair enough." Buck sent me a wink and pushed the shot glass closer to me. I shook my head though, "Seriously though, I don't drink."

Buck laughed at that. "What teenager doesn't drink?" I faked a smile as I pointed at myself, and pushed the shot glass back towards him. Buck picked up the two glasses and shrugged, pouring both of the shots into his mouth simultaneously. Unlike other times I had watched my New York friends drink, the bitter taste of liquor didn't seem to faze Buck at all. While he poured himself another shot, I went through my bag in search of a cigarette. I pulled the stick out and held it between two fingers, sighing as I remembered that I never seem to have a lighter. "Hey Buck, you got a light?" I asked.

Buck's eyes darted to the cigarette in my hand. He crossed his arms over his chest, becoming annoyed. "What did I tell you about smoking at the bar?" He lectured.

"Hm, let me think," I played along. I pursed my lips as if in thought before my eyes went wide with realization. "You told me, that if I gave you all my cash, then I could smoke wherever." Buck paused, remembering our deal from earlier. He sighed and uncrossed his hands, reaching into his back pocket, and pulled out a small, silver lighter. He tossed the metal box over the counter to me. I caught it with a smirk and lit my cigarette. I tossed the lighter back over to Buck, and placed the stick between my lips, taking a drag and blowing out white smoke in his direction. "Thanks, Buck," I dragged out the words tauntingly as I sent him a sly wink. He rolls his eyes and shook his head, walking down the bar to tend to other customers.

I spun around in my stool, facing away from the bar, and took a drag of my cigarette. The ends of the paper-like material flared to a burnt crimson red, and the smoke that I exhaled swirled around in the air before disappearing right in front of my eyes. Because it was nighttime, the bar became more alive with blasting music, neon lights, and drinks around the clock. It seems that the darkness from outside brought in numerous crowds of different people. There were couples swaying to the beat of some Johnny Cash song, friends chugging colorful shots at the bar, and a gang of bikers playing an intense game of pool. Everyone looked like they were having a good time, and I can see why Buck is so proud of his place now.

My eyes glanced over each face in the room casually, until one caught my attention. Sitting at a rounded table near the staircase was another teenage girl that appeared to be my age. Her golden, blonde hair was in loose curls that hung right at her slender shoulders. She had short bangs that stopped before her eyebrows and swept  to the right side of her forehead. I watched as the girl laughed at something that must've been said. Her eyes crinkled and her lips turned upward into a bright smile. The girl reminded me a lot of Erica, which made me miss my friend back in New York. We were never as close as of friends as Todd and I were, but Erica still meant a lot to me. Although we rarely talked anything personal, she always knew when something was bothering. Erica is the type of girl to put her feelings aside to make others feel better. It's my favorite quality of hers.

A sad smile took over my face, and I didn't realize it until Buck tapped on my shoulder. "Diana, you okay?" My thoughts of Erica dispersed back into the depths of my mind as I tore my eyes away from the blonde girl sitting at the table, who was still laughing and smiling.

I turned my stool around to face Buck with a straight face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired is all," I shrugged.

Buck nodded slowly. "Okay.. well, your room is ready. Sylvia stormed out of here while you were gone." I laughed at the thought of that image.

"Thanks, Bucks," I said as I stood up from the stool. "Cya tomorrow."

"Cya," Buck replied.

I turned around and began making my way over to the staircase, dropping my cigarette in an empty beer bottle on a table I passed. I weaved through a variety of people and walked up without another glance at the Erica look-alike that was sitting just a few feet away. I made my way through the gloomy hallway. Even though I could still hear and the pounding vibrations of the bass from below, it was relatively quiet up here. When I reached my new room, I turned the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside hesitantly. As expect, the room wasn't much. It was small, but doable. The walls were white and lined with tiny cracks that resembled a spiderweb. Some of the paint was peeling off, revealing dark, red bricks behind the wall. In the middle of the room, there was a metal bed frame and an old mattress, where white sheets, blankets, and pillows were scattered sloppily. I closed the door behind me, and walked over to the bed. When I sat down on the mattress, the metal made an awful squeaking noise. I can already tell that it's going to get on my nerves easily.

Next to the bed, there is a small wooden nightstand with two drawers closed inside. There is also a matching dresser across from the bed. The wood seemed to be chipped away from age. The only sources of light in the room is the window, which shielded the outside with a purple, stained curtain, and a light that hung low dangerously off the ceiling. Although my room back in New York was way nicer, this room wasn't too bad. It just needed a little cleaning up and decorations. Maybe I'll go 'shopping' tomorrow, since I need more clothes too.

The only thing that bothered me about the room was the strong smell of fruity perfume, most likely leftover from Sylvia. I've always disliked that scent; sweet smells, like vanilla, were my favorite. I across the creaky, wooden floors and pulled the curtain aside, so I could open the window. Hopefully her scent would air out by morning.

I walked back over to the bed and sat down at the edge. I threw my backpack on the beside table, and slipped off my boots. My feet ached from walking all day, so it was nice to finally be able to relax. I laid down on the bed, adjusting the pillow, and pulling the blankets up to cover my body. I stared at the ceiling blankly, before reaching into my back pocket and pulling out my ruby, red switchblade. The memory of how I got the blade is scarred into my mind, and on my face..

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts from wandering too far into the past. Lifting the pillow under my head, I tucked my knife under it. Closing my eyes and falling into a deep sleep.