"The past is one step ahead of you."
Liv Morales is a girl with a past.
Chris Carter is a boy with a past.
They only had one wish when they arrived in New York City: to move on.
After years of living in NYC and years of thinking that they have mo...
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The night sky was clear. People were partying. They were out onto the streets, all looking forward to see the sprinkling fire in the air. The entire city was a blast, except in a quiet side of the outskirt where there were no more crowds. There were only serenity, a lone road, and a reverie of a boy, who stared blankly at the Hollywood sign.
He stood stiff, his lungs were sucking the wind that blew from the city down there. The summer breeze got stronger as he took off his jacket. He held it in his hand, realizing he never felt this cold in July. In his reverie he thought of what his life had been. He was the only son of the CEO of a multinational hardware company in Los Angeles, a fifteen year-old Californian sweetheart, a lacrosse prodigy in his school. Seems like he had everything he wanted, but those who thought so, they didn't know his stories.
His phone was inside his Range Rover, blinking for hundred times that evening, waiting for him to pick it up. His stepmother's name kept showing up, her face flashing on the screen, making him feel guilty and sad. His stepmother was nice, and it almost stopped him from doing what he was about to do. He felt bad for leaving her alone with his dad, but she couldn't stop him. She shouldn't. He just looked at it as he leaned his hip to the body of his car, which was parked at the edge of the cliff that led to a deadly river down there.
Jump.
That was the only word that floated in his brain at the moment. He took a few steps towards the cliff. He had planned this for months. The boy's eyes darted to the endless darkness below him. He threw his jacket off the cliff. It disappeared into the dark. The cliff was that deep. If he took one step ahead, he would fall. He could hear the stream—of the river and of the blood in his veins—and he shivered. He was not as brave as he thought he was, but he was more than ready. Again that word echoed in his mind.
Jump.
Jump.
Jump.
At least that was what his dad would think he did when they found his car at the edge of the cliff the next morning. He jumped. Jacket was found, body was not. Perfect scene.
But no, he really wasn't about to end his life.
He was about to start a new one.
After the long silence that made his chest hurt a little, he glanced one more time to the pitch blackness before he took three steps back and turned around.
"My name's Chris," he muttered under his breath, repeating the sentence like a broken record. The trees across the road were more than ready to hide him from the rest of the world. He put one foot in front of the other, repeated it until he saw a small light moving so fast from distant road. He ran, not wanting anyone to notice his presence. He ran into the shadows of the trees that soon covered him, protected him. For the first time in years, he felt safe. Funny how shadows could make him feel safer than his dad.
To hell with his dad. He made it. He almost screamed in relief.
He kept hiking, walking past the trees, determined to go East, until a loud crash creeped through the air. He was deep into the woods and the sound still managed to jar his entire body, and it lasted longer than he thought. It made him shivered again. He hesitated if he wanted to go back and find out and suddenly he wasn't afraid of being seen anymore.
He was just a little figure in the middle of the dark woods.
He finally looked back and ran toward the deserted road, wanted to see what happened.
When he got there suddenly it was hard to breathe. He was shocked that he didn't realize he had stepped out of the shadows. From where he stood at the moment, he saw the most dreadful sight in his life. He saw a car wreck.
But it wasn't his.
It was a taxi. It was still, covered in a cloud of thick smoke. The front part of the car was more like ruins. The shape was so haunting that it made him cover his mouth, however, it wasn't the thing that shocked him the most. The Range Rover was gone, as if it had vanished into the thin air. But considering the last position of his car, he was certain that this taxi has pushed it off the cliff into the river.
The first firework interrupted his thought. It was so big and beautiful it almost put a smile on his face. Then another firework followed. And then another. And another. And another. They cheered at him, congratulated him for his freedom. He declared to himself that today was his independence day.
His sight moved back to the wreckage across the street.
An accident.
Apparently his plan had turned into something better.
He was young, he was too selfish and too ignorant to the fact that there might be people—who were dying and needed help—inside the taxi. So he turned his back, started walking again, this time without stopping, heading toward a new start he'd been waiting forever.
