The Runaway

The storm clouds were gathering rapidly overhead, I could feel the bitter wind whipping at my hair and clothes; it chilled me to the bone.

I hoisted my bag higher up on my back and set off once again into the unknown. I'd heard that Paris was beautiful, with bright lights and clean streets. However, all I could see was dingey grey alleys and filth. I suppose when the sun was shining it could be pretty, but today the sun must have been hidden away by a thick layer of menacing clouds.

I wandered the streets aimlessly, hoping to see a sign that would point me to the 'Gare du Nord,' the train station. I had read online that it was only a ten minute walk from the Eurostar station. Yet I had been walking for nearly two hours.

I noticed that people had started to give me odd looks. I guess it was obvious what my situation was. A sixteen year old girl, alone with a large back pack and no idea what she was doing, it must have simply screamed 'runaway.' I sighed; I decided it was time to ask for directions. At that point, my stomach interrupted my thoughts with a growl. Ok, so directions and food. I could kill two birds with one stone by going to a coffee shop, and I did just that, entering the nearest one I saw.

As I stepped inside the door, the strong delicious smell of freshly ground coffee beans and warm cake invaded my senses. I found a small table in a corner and placed my backpack carefully on the floor. I retrieved my wallet and checked my funds. Very limited funds, I might add. The Eurostar from St.Pancreas to Paris was seventy Euros, leaving me with two hundred and thirty. My second train from Paris to Zurich was approximately one hundred and fifty, and I still needed accommodation.

I approached the counter nervously, purse clutched in my hand 'Umm...' Oh God, good start genius, now you look like a simpleton. I could feel my face heat up. 'Could I have a large hot chocolate and some cake please?' I asked as nicely as possible. 'And could you also tell me the way to the "Gare du Nord"?'

The middle aged woman behind the counter smiled as she handed me a thick slice of cake. 'It's not far, just down the street on your left' she replied, with a heavy French accent. Then she passed me an enormous steaming mug of hot chocolate, with lots of cream and a flake.

'Thanks' I murmured, opening my purse and handing over a precious five euro note. I sat down at my table and practically inhaled my cake, much to the disgust of the man sitting near me. I then gulped down my drink, breaking world records I'm sure. I left as soon as I finished, grabbing my bag and waving to the waitress as I walked out the door. I headed directly to the station.

Upon my arrival I looked at the timetable. The next train to Switzerland was in half an hour. I went to the ticket office and bought my ticket. A hundred and fifty Euros was a small price to pay for freedom.

As I boarded the train, I thought of the family I had lost in a car crash, not so long ago. I knew leaving Britain was my only choice, travelling helped me to cope with the pain, and I hoped desperately that I would find some answers along the way. As the train sped through France, I watched the scenery go by, and for the first time in several months I thought that things might just work out ok.