Artistic Behavior (#Wattys2014)

Chapter Thirteen - Somewhere Near the End

Chapter Thirteen -

Somewhere Near the End

[_]

2 YEARS LATER

Sometimes it's easy to forget. and sometimes it's hard. Or both, at rare times. But, soon, we all get over it right?

Nope.

I've been waiting, sitting near the window in my dark, shitty room in where? New fucking York. A few years ago, on my last day of that talent program kind of thing, and when I got home, of course it had to be a horrible welcome home present.

I mean, everyone wants to come home from a long trip and see cake and friends and family around, and a big, colorful banner that says:

'WELCOME HOME, YOU AWESOME PERSON!'

But, nothing can really go your way. I've always known that, but now, I never knew how bad not getting your way could actually be.

I mean, a lot of people don't get your way, like me (a lot), but when you finally see how bad it can be, you would wish you were alone, all on your own, but at the same time, that's even worse, so you have no choice but to follow the path someone else has given you.

"Danielle, time to go," my father calls from downstairs, and I can see him rolling his eyes in annoyance. I'm still surprised as to why he even took me from my real home, and to this junk of a city, where all he does is snap at me.

"Coming," I mutter, roughly kicking a box under my desk, causing my father to shout at me from downstairs, and me nearly ripping my hair out from him.

After a few minutes or so, I'm downstairs, stabbing my fork in what is supposed to be cereal, but looks like something a donkey would throw up. I scrunch my nose up from the horrible smell, and carefully taste the milk in the cereal, and gag, finally noticing the milk is spoiled. I get up from the table, grabbing my coat from the chair, and taking my keys from the counter, cursing under my breath when my father calls out to me as I was getting up.

"What?" I ask harshly through gritted teeth, itching to leave the house.

"Where are you going?" He barks from behind me, and I blow out a breath from clenched teeth, making it sound like a hiss. I ignore him, continuing on to the door, quickling opening it and slamming the door behind me. I hear the door open again after I leave, and my father's voice yelling at me, but I once again, ignore him and keep moving toward the junk of a car my dad actually had enough money to afford.

As I drive down the road, tears pricking the corners of my eyes, and my fists clenching the steering wheel, I move the car into a gas station parking lot, turning off the car, and resting my head against the wheel, sobs threatening to escape my mouth.

A knock from the window startles me, making me shoot up, quickly wiping my tears away, and when I look at the person who knocked, I blink, staring at the familiar looking person before me. His eyes widen in recognition, where I can't seem to pin point who exactly he is, when he seems so ridiculously familiar.

I start the car again, rolling down the window, and he grins at me, then frowns when I don't seem to do the same.

"Hi," he breathes, holding a hand out for me to shake, and I stare down at it, and look back up at him, and he is still frowning.

"Hi..." I reply hesitantly, and when I speak, tears start to roll down his cheeks, and my eyes widen, quickly reaching out, as if on instinct, and wipe them away.