Saved By A Mikaelson (Loving a Mikaelson AU)

Chapter 8: Runaway

Chapter 8: Runaway

Song: Iris- The Goo Goo Dolls

"Are you lost or incomplete?"

+ + + + +

After direct orders to go straight to my room (with the exceptions of dinner and the bathroom) every day, right after school, strict rules prohibiting any interactions at all as well as all the usual - stealing, etc., and multiple threats, you can see why I found the Lawsons a lot less enjoyable than what my ignorant therapist and social worker described.

My bed is lumpy and uncomfortable, and my room is tiny. I feel like Harry Potter in his broom cupboard, but I don't get any letters, and I don't get to leave. So after an hour of sitting on my bed doing absolutely nothing because I'm not allowed downstairs and it's too early to go to bed, I decide I will not under any circumstances allow myself to be in another home that I don't want to be in.

I won't.

Screw waiting until I'm 18 and I can live by myself.

Screw pushing through and sucking it up.

Screw smiling and hiding my feelings.

Screw the Lawsons.

I am my own person. I won't do this anymore. I won't do it to myself.

I check the entire room for anything that I can take with me, and there's nothing. But that doesn't stop me.

I won't be a 'good girl' anymore. I won't 'stay put' or 'do what's right.'

I'm going to start living my life for me and only me. And I most certainly won't do it here.

+ + + + +

When night falls, I make my move. I quietly slide open the only window in the room. Convienently, the house is only one floor, so the jump is child's play.

It's dark, and incredibly quiet. I start my long-stretched trek through civalization. If you would even call it that, in this sad excuse for a town.

I have no cash at all for anything like a bus. I have no plan, nowhere to go. But that doesn't stop me. So I just walk. I'll figure out something on the way.

+ + + + +

I have no idea how long I have walked, when the sky is black as coal, and the wind is chilly. My feet begin to ache, but I only pick up the pace. I need to push myself. I need to keep going.

I need to run, it's the only thing I know how to do.

The landscape is ever-changing, from roadsides to little pit stops. There's loads of scenery - forests and clearings.

Worst case scenario, I guess I could take a nap by a pond.

Uncomfortable, yes. But secluded and blocked from people who could be potentially searching for me. No doubt the Lawsons will throw a fit, having a field day about what an insolent child I am to the authorities.

I surely don't want any extra... Publicity.

Which is why I strongly consider running into the woods before dawn instead of something like a park bench. I don't want to be caught or sent back, or god forbid somewhere even worse. I shiver at the thought of all the bone-chilling stories about those group homes.

A fate worse than death, almost. At least in my mind.

I could have it so much worse, I suppose. I could still be trapped in my hell of a house.

At least now I can control my own pain - the aching of my thighs from the walk. Maybe that's why I like bringing a blade to my skin, maybe that's why I even started in the first place. I can control that.

But it was a terrible choice, it became my new addiction, my secret obsession. After the coma, I guess it stopped being so secret. And then people treated me differently, like a time bomb seconds from exploding.

Maybe I am a time bomb.

I'll hit my own button one day.

I walk down a bridge, stopping to gaze down at the water.

I find myself pushing my body to sit on the ledge to get a better look. It could be so bloody easy. A simple push and I'd be gone. I'm too much of a coward. I'm too afraid.

So instead I watch the slow waves of the lake, how they rush over the rocks in strong currents. I'm so lost in the view, even, I don't give any thought or worry when I hear the sound of a car engine. I'm too busy to even hear such a thing. I'm looking at the lush trees and feeling the breeze in my hair.

I don't hear the slam of a car door.

But I almost fall off when I feel a hand grips my shoulders.

Funny how the thing that almost sends me off the edge is also what's holding me down.

"Please, don't jump. I really am not at all in the mood for anything tragic today." Says the voice of the person directly behind me.

The voice chills my very soul, and fear runs through me. I don't know them, and I haven't even turned around to get a look, but something gives me the sense they're the kind of person that would push a girl off just for kicks. Just the tone is the very definition of terror, a tone that's rattling to the core.

I push myself around to face the person, hopping off onto the safety of the bridge to get at the man that almost sent me to my death.

"ARE YOU INSANE?! YOU SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE BEEN THE THING THAT KILLED ME?!" I yell, getting in his face a little to make my point.

It's then I get the chance to really look at him, that my eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and thought. I know him from somewhere. I can't place my finger on it, exactly. But it's like he's been haunting my dreams. More likely my nightmares by the way he's acting. It's hard to see exactly, but I get the basics, he has light brown hair and eyes, and a cocky smirk that makes me want to send him off the ledge.

"I just saved your life, a simple thank you will do." He replies curtly. By his voice I can tell that he isn't from here. Some sort of accent, London maybe. Which is particularly unique in a place like Virginia. Besides, it's not like I crossed oceans overnight. I think I would've noticed that at the very least.

"Thank you?! You almost TOOK my life, you idiot!"

"You're rather rude." He comments.

"You want me to thank you for nearly pushing me off a bridge?!"

"That woukd be nice."

I scowl, rolling my eyes. People these days.

"Well you're not getting anything from me except maybe a shove into the water yourself."

He chuckles, obviously amused, which only makes me see red.

"Fine, If you're so upset, let me make it up to you. I'll give you a ride to wherever you're going."

I huff. "I am not going anywhere with you, let alone getting into your sketchy car."

"Sketchy?" He questions, raising an eyebrow. "Very." I growl, turning on my heel and storming away from the rude man. "Wait!" He calls after me, much to my frustration. "Just let me give you a lift. You obviously don't actually live here. I'm only trying to be nice. Besides, it's the middle of the night and dangerous for a young girl to be out."

"Young." I scoff. "I don't need your help."

"Oh really? What would the authorities say if a report was to go out about a girl on the run?"

"You rude, nasty little - "

"Just let me help."

"FINE!" I roar. "But I swear to god if you try anything or so much as touch me ... "

He ignores me and opens the car door, gesturing me inside. I glare at him and jump in, disregarding every instinct I have and every lesson taught in any thriller movie ever shown.

I never should've gotten in. It brought me into a whole new mess I never knew I'd want to be apart of.