In a Hail of Bullets

My feet started to move before my brain worked to make them do so. I ran to my room, slamming the door closed. Grabbing last year's book bag out of the bottom of my closet, I started to throw clothes into it. My favorite band tee shirts, jeans, and socks. My cell phone was also thrown into it, along with the charger. Searching the room for anything else I'd need, I picked up my hoodie and threw it into the bag also, zipping it up. My car keys, to the car I rarely used, were put into my never used pink Coach purse, whatever the hell that meant. My drawer, containing saved money from birthdays past and other money-giving holidays, was emptied into my purse before I sealed that close also.

As I opened the door, I thought about where I was going, and I wasn't exactly sure. So I also grabbed my laptop off my desk, slipping it into my bag.

Teasrs where now consistant down my face, streaming like a river. As I ran down the stairs, I could hear my mom trying to calm dad.
I ran right past them; opening the front door, walking out and slamming it behind me.
Knowing I was crying too hard to be able to drive well enough, I started to run towards Gerard's street. I would figure out a place to go after I clamed down and talked to him.

As I ran, the wind from my fast pace whipped against my face, burning my cheek which I assumed was red now.

Finally reaching Gerard's house, I knocked on the door, hoping he'd answer and not his younger brother, or even his mom. No one answered. Looking into the driveway I realized his car wasn't there. He was returning movies. I looked down at my watch, it was only 2:13. Mikey was still at junior high, and his mom at work. Instead of going back to my house, I sat on his doorstep. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.

"Hey beautiful," he answered after just two rings. His greeting made me want to smile, but I couldn't. "Hey," my voice wasn't shaky anymore, but craked. "What's wrong?" He asked, using that concerned tone again. "Uhm, are you ging to be home soon?" It was hard to not burst into even more tears as I spoke, praying to whatever there was to believe in that I could get to hear his voice much, much longer than this. "Yeah, I'm driving home now. About to turn onto Main Street, why?"
Main Street was the street that connected his and my street. "I just need to talk to you." I felt that I was calling to tell him I needed to talk, so I could break up with him. My tone of voice sounded exactly like every girl in every movie who's ever done that. "I can be at your house in just a minute..." he started. "No, come to your house. I'm sitting outside." "Oh...kay. Should I be worried?" He asked, sounding scared now. "Of course not," I sniffed, holding back any liquids that dared to escape my face as I spoke to him.
I heard a car turn onto the end of the street. When I looked, it was his. "Okay, I'm down the street. Talk to you in a sec," he spoke, hanging up. I didn't like his tone, scared and unsure.