365 Days.

She’s a genius.
A pure genius.
I guess it’s because she had come across so many kids like me,
run away kids,
rebelling,
not sure how to get home to their strict parents.

Turns out she has the biggest collection of clothing ever to exist,
piles of clothing from whatever shop existing,
every style imaginable,
for both genders.
Clothes once lost and never retrieved.

She cleaned me up,
and dressed me,
and lectured me a story that I was to tell my father.

And it worked.
I don’t know how,
perhaps my father was feeling generous or extremely happy that night,
but he didn’t even ask twice.
He just nodded and let me go in.

Eying the pills Kenzie had given me,
balancing a glass of water in the other hand,
I twist my lips and tilt my head back,
putting them in and swallowing them down with the water.
According to Kenzie,
the pills were the best for hangovers,
something I need to free myself of right now.

Giving a small moan,
I lie back down and bury my face into the pillow.
I almost drift off to sleep but Satan sends me a message.
Okay,
maybe not Satan himself,
but it wasn’t God either.

With a growl,
I push myself up and crawl over to the side of the bed to retrieve my phone.
Staring at the screen with a frown and a blank mind,
not comprehending the flashing words in front of me.

Where are you?

Where am I?
I look around and stare at the phone some more.

“At home,”
I say.
When nothing happens,
I frown some more and put the phone down.
Stupid phone.

Running my hand through my hair,
I wince in pain as a finger gets caught in a knot and glance in the mirror.
My eyes are sunken,
sunken and bloodshot,
and the bags under them don’t make me any more attractive.

I give a soft laugh at my messy appearance.
The phone rings again and I glance over.

Evie? We need to talk.
I’m sorry.

And I laugh.
I don’t know why,
I don’t know how,
I have no idea as to what I find so funny,
but maybe it’s because I saw my appearance in the mirror,
maybe it’s because I realized down what path I was stumbling,
or perhaps it was because of the two funny words
in the end of the text message from a certain blonde.

Jumping up,
I turn on the music on my player.
Search and Destroy by 30 Seconds to Mars begins to play.
I smile,
flick some hair out of my face and kick aside some jeans on the ground.

Dancing around the room,
singing into my hairbrush,
I try to brush my hair somewhat.
Standing in front of the mirror,
I look myself over.
There needs to be a change.
A change to suit this new me.
This new me without the influence of anyone.
I refuse to have my life dictated to me.

The scissors near the tips of my hair,
the snip drowned out by the sound of the blaring music.
No more hiding for me from the world.
I want to see it,
with the little time I have in this world.
I want to see it all.

By the time I’m done,
my fringe is only just above my eyes,
and the sides of my hair reveal my ears.
Should I get those pierced?
That would be nice.
The very top,
yes I should get that done.

Maybe a little tattoo too,
why not?
The thought makes me smile a little more and I chuck the hairbrush aside.
Now,
time to go to Kenzie’s,
I have a party to attend.

I sneak out of my room,
eyeing the hall for any signs of father or the butler,
but there is no smell of jasmine.
The sudden longing to smell just a tinge of it overwhelms me,
the want for the smell of jasmine to be there,
for Magnus to be there,
to stop me,
to calm me,
and set me back on track – like he did when I was little.
But it is not there,
and I keep walking.

I sneak out through the back door,
grabbing my bike on the way and get on.
Quickly,
I run down the side of the house,
keeping out of sight,
and once I’m sure that the coast is clear,
I ride out onto the road and pedal down the street,
as fast as I can,
legs pumping,
and laughing.
I’m free.

But oh Mama,
I’m sorry.
I’m going straight to hell.