Sorrel Hill: Dancing In Rome (BK3) |COMPLETED|

Chapter Thirteen

" To know what life is worth you have to risk it once in a while." Jean-Paul Sartre.
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(PETER TRENT)

     The room was dark, darker than it had been a few months ago.  It was colder, gloomier, less welcoming.  The bed was stiffer, dust collected in clumps along the dresser, the curtains old and faded.  This place was nothing like the hospital yet resembled it completely.  It had the same absence of loneliness, depression, fear, and blankness the room held.  I withdrew a long sigh and dropped a small bag at my feet.  I didn't like this room, I never have, not from the first time I saw it as an eleven year old.  I was fifteen now and the world still sucked.  No one wanted a teenager even if they did decide to take me in they wanted an easy one, not a kid who's been through crap and hates just about everyone who breathes.
     Except Chase, he's the only one I'm okay with... him and one other person.  "Shut the door!"  A yell shouted from down the hall.  I stifled a groan and kicked my bag into the room, shutting the door behind me.  Back to the same old routine.  Wake up, breakfast, avoid everyone, lunch, avoid everyone, dinner, avoid everyone, sleep.  I wasn't the traditional type, but living in Hell, variety wasn't an option.  I walked over to the window and watched the empty street glisten with rain.  Great, another lazy day.  I jumped as a rock came soaring to the window. My straight face had broken into irritation, "Foster, stop doing that. You're going to break it." I slid up the window and leaned over it to see one of my best friends, Foster King, looking back up at me.
He had a stupid boyish grin, "come on, no one's out! I've already checked." I glanced around my room once more before I carefully climbed out of the window. I cautiously moved down the roof toward I was only five feet from the ground. I hopped down and nearly collided into Foster. I suppose an introduction would fit right about here. Foster King, his real name Griffin King, was my only other best friend aside from Chase. Chase went to Sorrel Hill two summers ago, and I happened to be forced to go by my grandparents who left me at an orphanage after camp. I've kept in touch with him ever since and he often stops by to visit, he's only nineteen.
Foster I met last summer. I was selected to go out and ride as apart of the kids in need program. I suppose I was one of their "guinea pigs." Foster was there because he ran away from home to be with his horse. It sounds weird, but to put it simply he had had the horse forever, his dad a cop, his mom a lawyer, they weren't really around. They sold his horse and he snuck away in the trailer. Anyway him and I became tight due to home life and we both liked horses.
"Let's go!" Foster whispered and took off across the street. I sprinted to catch up to the brisk teenager. We took the long route out of the city and to the forest. We weaved our way through sharp grass blades, around leaning trees, over surfacing roots, and under lazy logs. We were just about two miles in when I felt something was wrong. My horse, Olympic Star, usually always met me at a mile in. He somehow always knew where I was in the forest. Today was not usual. Then I remembered something and calmed down, "he must be with Nathan." Foster cocked a brow, "who the heck is Nathan?" Right, I haven't had the chance to tell him.
We were walking through the forest at an even pace now, "guess I thought I told you. Remember that guy last summer riding that paint? Brown hair, brown eyes, didn't really talk to anyone? Yeah, him. We've been talking here lately about him taking Olympic to somewhere safe. After that night when Chase and I were attacked by Kenneth, a horse thief, I've been paranoid over Olympic being whisked away in the night and Nathan agreed to take him- for the time being."  Foster nodded, his brown hair bounced, as he did.  We moved swiftly when all the sudden Foster yanked me down.  I was about to retaliate until I found what he was so reactive about.
     There was a whole pen full of horses all cramped together like sardines in a tin can.  I scanned the area to see nothing but confined horses and a travel trailer parked to the side of it.  My heart beat quickened as I looked for Olympic hoping and praying he wasn't in there, but as a black horse reared up I found who I was looking for.