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It's lonely to live in your own little world

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It's lonely to live in your own little world. It's powerless to live in someone else's and it's maddening to have no choice on where you reside.

The human mind is a prison.

"Lucy, your finger is bleeding."

Nari holds her phone light toward me and she's right, my finger is bleeding, the red drop growing and making a slow slide down to my knuckle.

"That is the worst habit," Gia says, her expression twisted into disgust.

Stars dot the black summer sky as we slip through a pre-cut hole in the fence surrounding the development site, past a group of diggers, concrete mixers and trucks. There's an enormous billboard erected at the edge of the site and another one in the middle of a newly laid round about. 'LAHEY REAL ESTATE.'

"I can't believe your dad is developing this entire suburb," Nari whispers as we jog in a crouch across the loose gravel, hoods up.

South Fort Collins is full of new developments, modern restaurants and shopping centres. Personally, I prefer Old Town Fort Collins. Old Town Square is a major tourist buzz made up of historical buildings with renovated 1800s store fronts, live music, art, boutiques and the best food in the state. It's where I would have chosen to be tonight.

"Doesn't he live in New Jersey?" Gia asks, a spiral from her pixie cut falls on her forehead.

"It's his company," I mumble. "He sits in his office and signs shit off. He hasn't been to Colorado in forever."

We stop in front of a half-built house; the frame and walls are up but the windows are hollowed out and the roof only comes half way across the mammoth two story home.

"It's easy to forget you're a rich girl when you're slumming it with the rest of us," Gia says.

"My dad is rich."

She smirks at me. "Something a rich kid would say."

I hate it when she separates me from her and Nari, like having family money puts me on the edge of our group, present, but not totally belonging. Gia joined our duo last summer when she moved here from Ohio. Her mom went to prison, which left her with two options, her dad, here in Fort Collins. Or a foster home in Ohio. She chose her dad; despite the fact she'd met him only twice before. He's around but he's more of a friend to Gia than a father. Something I somewhat relate to.

She grunts as she slings off her backpack and throws it up to the second-floor window before we creep in through the front door.

The staircase hasn't been installed, so we climb the walls where the framing is still exposed because the plastering hasn't been put up. When we get to the top floor, we heave ourselves through the gap on the floorboards, every single bump and thud echo's against wooden walls. Nari puts her phone down so we can see, the white hue casts shadows on our faces, distorting our features.

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