Runaway

Chapter 7

© Sweetslover8 2013. It is illegal to copy and/or steal.

~Uploaded December 12th, 2013

I woke up and stretched like a cat. As soon as my eyes opened, I jumped out of bed. I looked around suspiciously at the strange new room. When had I-? Then yesterday's memories came back to me.

I had driven away from Springfield. My truck had broken down and it was being repaired at the garage. I was staying at the Silver Creek Inn with Mrs. Wells. The tension in my shoulders decreased by a fraction, still not completely at ease. I quickly made my bed and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. I carried my runners down the hall and to the front door, being quiet enough not to wake up Mrs. Wells. It was 6 am after all.

Once I got outside, I double-knotted my laces and plugged in my headphones. I really needed new music on my iPod. Part of me wished I had kept my phone after all, instead of ditching it somewhere between here and Springfield, Illinois. It had all the good songs on it. Oh well.

As I ran, I scanned up and down the small streets, familiarizing myself with the neighbourhood. I ran all around the town, which was close to forty times smaller than Springfield. I noted where the grocery stores were, the gas stations, the fire and police departments. They had a sports store, a church, a restaurant, a small clinic, an elementary school and high school, a town square and a movie theater that only had four theaters. McCade and Sons' Garage was the only garage in town. And that was about it. It was so small that I could run the entire town in less than an hour. And I did.

I turned onto one of the streets. The houses here were all two stories with flowers lining the walkway and perfectly trimmed lawns and hedges. The windows were sparkling clean and there was at least one tree per property. There wasn't a single weed to be seen and there wasn't any trash lying around. Not even a candy bar wrapper. Way too good to be true.

A pang of sadness erupted from my chest. I bet this town had barbecues or block parties every week, or some sort of gathering. And live community theatre. And-

Shut up, Dani. How can you feel nostalgic for something that never was, never can, and never will be? You have to face facts: you can never live a normal life. You're constantly on the run and you can't afford to settle down or to even think of it. Thinking of it only makes you weaker, and you are NOT weak.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't see the truck backing out of the driveway until it was two feet away. The driver had seen me and braked sharply but I was already reacting. I put my hand out in front of me and lazy vaulted over the flatbed of the truck. As I landed on the other side, I did a tuck and roll and came up, my senses more awake then they have been for a while.

The driver's side door opened, followed by the other three doors, and I was ready for whatever came out. But what came out was not what I was expecting at all.

Four guys. All my age and all extremely good-looking, maybe even hot. They were all tall, lean and had that boy-next-door look to them. One of them had bright red hair, which caught my attention first, there were two brunettes and there was the driver, a blond. Well that explained a lot. Not to be stereotypical.

Said blond came running up to me and I prepared to bolt, in case he proved dangerous. But instead of speaking right away, he froze on the spot when he was five feet away. He furrowed his brows at me. I immediately thought I had something on my face. One of his friends, the tall muscular brunette, came over and leaned on one of the blond's shoulders.

"What I think my dear friend here is trying to say is..." He nudged the blond's ribs with his elbow. He immediately spoke. Or rather spat out all the words.