Blazing Rivers

2

Why is it that bad things happen to good people?

And, why is it that sometimes these bad things turn into a snowball effect?

Where everything seems to go wrong from that one moment.

That one bad thing that changed everything.

And then it just keeps getting worse.

Why?

Maybe know one truly knows?

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BLAZE

I speed walked out of the house, I didn't want to be there, playing happy families like everything's okay, like everything's tickity boo in the world. Because it's not. It's like they're trying to replace the family I-. Never mind.

I had got around the corner by the bus stops and the corner shop, when I hear booming, obnoxiously loud music nearing my way. So loud that it had probably woken up the neighbours. A silver Audi zoomed past, an Audi I recognised as my friend's, Greyson Cole.

I met him at a party when I was fifteen. He was sixteen at the time so I didn't really know him, as I didn't know who any of the older kids were. He was hooking people up with pills and weed in the garden. We met by the drinks tables, he came up to me with his charming smile and offered to make me a drink. I obviously accepted, round that time I didn't know what to do or make. We got chatting and became friends, after him pushing me to come sit with his group friends.

He was good for me....at the time.

Now. I'm not so sure.

The car swerved back, erratically, and came towards me. Braking abruptly in front of me, nearly making me roadkill. Greyson and Bentley were smirking and practically laughing at me, along with my other friend Carla who sat in the back.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and scowled. Raising my fists and slapping them down on the car.

"What the hell? Are you trying to kill me?" My eyes were wide, glaring at Greyson, who's face seemed to drop as soon as I started attacking his car.

"Hey. Don't attack my baby!" He poked his head out the window, laughing lightly, thinking this was all a big joke.

I'll give him something to laugh about when I knock him into next week.

"Get in the car Blaze. Now! We have to get to college after all." Bentley hollered.

     I got into the backseat beside Carla, who was smiling at me as I got sat down. She was nice and all and we were friends it's just that damn smile, too cheery for my liking.

What's there to be happy about?

Shit life. Shit world.

The car started up again and skidded and speeded back onto the road. The ride to college was pretty fast due to Greyson's erratic, mad man driving, that could get us all killed.

Greyson parks in his usual spot. He reserved it for himself. Wrote his name on it and everything. He's a control freak when it comes to that spot. Beats and yells at anyone who even tries to go near it. I don't blame him. I'm like that when my godparents try and steal my chocolate.

We exited the car and ended up in groups of two.

Carla and Bentley. With Bentley flirting after every other sentence.

Greyson and I. With the boy putting his arm, lazily around me. I try to shove him off, not in the mood once again, but his grip around me tightened.

"You need something to take your edge off. You're all moody and jumpy. Here." He hands me a few pills. Who knows what type of pills they are, I just gulped them down like they were nothing.

"That's it gorgeous. You'll start to feel better soon Blazey. More like yourself." He strokes my arm and talks almost patronising. He had an angle. No doubt buttering me up to do his bidding, something illegal probably. But what's new.

I walk into college, finally escaping Greyson's firm grip. I scan my pass and waltz through the canteen to find the familiar chairs we take everyday.

    Everything bored me now. The partying, the drugs, minor crime, all that jazz. However I couldn't seem to stop. I needed to, I really did, but I couldn't. It's like I'm addicted to the lifestyle. Stuck. I just can't seem to care anymore. About anything.

Sometimes I feel like I'm letting life float by. Like I'm falling. Not able to stop. Endless falling.

I watch as different people pass by, glancing my way, knowing my reputation. For being the wild child. The drugged up drunk at a party. Or the violent girl that always seemed to have bloody knuckles.  Having a bad reputation wasn't that bad at times, nobody dared mess with you, those that did would bear consequences.

My friends voices are background noise. I didn't feel like listening, it was always the same topic. The next party. The next crime. The next fight. It's all the same now.

Lost in my own world, I don't see a hand, waving in my face.

"Hey B. You good. Isn't it your lesson now or something?" Carla laughed.

"Yeah, I don't feel like going. I'll just wait until you guys get back." Carla nodded and waltzed off with the boys.

I however went into my bag, grabbing out my sketchbook. I start to sketch out something, although I wasn't sure what it was just yet. Minutes past, and my rough sketch was done. A shaded drawing of somebody falling. Maybe it was me.

As I was about to start another, a figure sat in front of me, making themselves rather comfortable.

"We need to talk." Cori. Great.

"What do you want Cody?" I rolled my eyes. The kid got on my nerves without even doing anything.

"Look my mom is planning to get you another counsellor. She's coming to meet you in a minute." He told me.

"Another one. Doesn't she remember what happened to the last one. All it took was me to spill hot coffee on the old bag for her to leave, and don't get me started on the one before that. Doesn't she realise I don't want or need help." I rolled my eyes, annoyance creeping up in me by the second.

No way was she introducing me to another counsellor. No way in hell.

"Look. You should go before she comes waltzing in here."

I did just that. I walked away and to my hiding place, where she wouldn't have a chance to find me.

You could say I was stubborn. But these old, crooked looking counsellors and mentors she used to get were awful. Always trying to get me to speak, talking to me like I was a little 11 year old. They're all the same. They don't understand, nor would they ever. They've never been in my shoes. I've had six so far, and there's no such thing as seventh time lucky. Plus I'm not lucky. Ever.

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Unedited x