Rubble (Riders of Apollo #7)

Chapter Three: Juniper Channing

I have always hated my car. It's pretty and more than most people could afford but the money could be so much better spent in any other way. My father saw it as a symbol of status, that whenever I pulled up at the college he paid so much for - money that was sincerely wasted - he liked to think that every other student told their parents of the girl with insanely rich parents.

So, I sold the damn thing.

I drove into the city in the early morning, stopping only for fuel and a bathroom break. It got me an extra two hundred thousand and it was transferred into a bank account my father knows nothing about. I drag my suitcase behind me, my hair tucked into my hat to try and avoid identifying features, into the bus station to buy a one-way ticket to the one person who can save me from a future of housewifery and child-rearing.

"Thank you," I tell the lady as she passes me my ticket and points to the bus I'm getting on. The man helps me get my luggage into the well of the bus and wishes me good luck on my travels which I thought was very sweet. I take a seat in the middle of the bus, by the window with my bag at my feet. I would put my headphones in now but I need to feel safe in my environment before I take one of my senses away.

I don't get to go out much and when I did it was only to places I was already familiar with. It's a volley of new people, scents, and sounds that immediately put me on edge. I've also never travelled by coach before and I feel quite cramped for the seven-hour ride to what I hope will be my safe haven, even with the smells it is more appealing than the estate I've lived in since my birth.

The driver checks everyone's tickets and then we set off, the bus growling underneath the pressure. I find it soothing so I slip my headphones in but keep the volume low, I settle further into my seat and allow myself to snooze if only for a little while. It was a long night of driving, something I've never done before, I was only allowed enough fuel in my car to get me to and from college - and yes, they monitored how much I put in every time.

At every point they've tried to stop me from running away, inadvertently pushing me to do. I can imagine it now, the headlines they will spin 'my daughter was kidnapped', 'she was drugged', all sorts of random stories to hide their abuse of me over the years. No one must know that Mr. and Mrs. Channing, the well-known moguls from Forbes 30 under 30, are raging hypocrites who snatched away the only freedom their daughter wanted for herself.

The right to choose.

The right to choose my own house, my own car, my own job, and for goodness sakes, the man I'll spend the rest of my life with. It is only fair for me to do so even at the cost of losing my family, they weren't worth much anyway if you ignore the dollar signs.

I'm sure someone with nothing would have so much more integrity, so much more kindness because they've seen the world at its worst and can still find the courage to be a human being. Someone with a heart. While I sit here with perfectly manicured nails, perfect hair, perfect body, and an excessive amount of money, yet nothing to love and nothing to care for.

I stare out the window in a daze, just watching as the rain comes down in heavy sheets and the street lights flash through the drops striping down the window. I remember when I was a child and I'd race two of them just to see which one would win, it was never in a car but the window of my bedroom.

My parents never took me out to dinner or the movies or the theatre just left me at home with the nanny. After Julia - the nanny who would let me bake with her, sing with her, and be a child with her - they gave me someone so strict that I felt even more suffocated than when they themselves were home.

I was expected to sit straight, talk clearly, eat without dropping the smallest amount and I was supposed to do it all with ease. The perfect young lady. It was why I wasn't allowed to leave as a child because I would embarrass them.

The double standards with my brothers infuriated me the most. They could flip an entire table in public yet still be considered the perfect children because 'boys will be boys' but if I use the wrong spoon or say the wrong thing in polite conversation, I'll be lynched. It's amazing how despite the money spent on my 'training' I am still the problem child.

They deserve it. Deserve the embarrassment of having a child of theirs run away, the one who was expected to be the role model for their friends' young girls, I won't care from where I will be. Won't hear a word of how the Channing enterprise came under fire for a choice they didn't make.

It's amusing to me how my first choice, the first one I made of my own volition, will cause so much destruction for them. Let them suffer, let them suffer how I did for years, and see if they come to their senses.

I shake my head at my dramatic thoughts and tug out a book. Before I ran, I left all of my technology. I mean all of it, my phone, my iPad, my laptop. I can buy more in the future but I don't need anyone tracking it while I'm in hiding. I'm using the tiny little iPod Nano that only has the buttons on the front, I don't think it has any tracking capabilities, at least I hope not, I doubt I could go this whole journey without some music.

I chew on some gum to settle my stomach as I read some action novel to keep my curious brain from wandering.

Settle in for the long haul, Juni, this is the start of your new life.

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It's still raining when we pull up at the bus station. I almost fall down the steps getting out of the bus, all of my things now kept in my backpack and my coat wrapped tightly around me to keep the rain off. Another man this time helps me with my things and I thank him quietly as I hurry into the station to escape the heaving rain.

It feels like decades since I last felt rain on my skin. When I was younger I used to dance in the rain, throw my head back and shout in delight as I sprinted through the gardens getting absolutely sopping wet. Until my parents then banned me from doing so because no proper young lady dances in the rain.

They study and they model and they sit pretty. That's all I was ever good for. I rest for a few minutes, happy for the warmth the building provides. I keep my head down, my cap pulled over my eyes as I think over what to do next. I could call a taxi but this is literally a bus station, I'm sure I can find a way to get where I need to go.

Thankfully, a lady helps me as I stand in front of the map of the town extremely confused. I've never had to travel on public transport before, not from lack of trying though. When I went to New York I wanted to go on the subway because traffic infuriates me more than anything but my father refused and called a helicopter, 'this is how the rich travel, girl, we don't travel with the vermin in the sewers'.

I halted my argument then.

What can I do to convince a man, who has never known hardship, that those who have suffered, earned the same respect as him no matter how much money they had?

Old money has him stuck in his ways, while he should take responsibility for his actions, his parents should also take a portion of the blame, their parents too because none of them have known any different.

I thank the lady for helping me and head towards the bus I'm getting on. I only just manage to get on before the door shuts behind me. I take a seat closest to the bus driver, just to avoid the large group of young males at the back of the bus that makes me uncomfortable with their staring.

Just twenty minutes to go and then freedom... hopefully.

I don't even know if he'll remember me, I spent a lot of time at his house and he spent a lot of time at mine but I was closer with his sister. He did promise the both of us, when we were all still young, that he would always be there for us no matter what. I hope he'll make good on that promise because I'm literally pulling up to just outside his place now.

I step off the bus, into the freezing rain and stare up at the building in front of me.

Riders of Apollo MC.