Runaway Scars

“Do you have ID?” Vic looked up into the wide blue eyes of the boy behind the counter, and his heart plummeted into his mouth. He had ID, but it wasn’t real, and it was a poor excuse of an ID anyway; he looked nowhere near 21, even if the little piece of plastic claimed that he was. By looking at the outside of the motel, he had assumed that it was the cheap kind of place that didn’t ask too many questions as long as you had money, but clearly he was wrong. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, and considered turning around and leaving without another word, but he had nowhere else to go, so he had to at least try. The small Mexican held his breath as he took the card out of his wallet and slid it across the desk, to the bright eyed man. The receptionist looked at it for a moment, his eyes skimming over the details, and then he nodded and handed it back over, “Alright, man. You’re in room 38B; you need to pay half now and half when you leave.”

Vic let out a breath of relief, and pulled the money out of the bottom of his bag. He handed over $100, which would cover him for a fortnight, and then took the key that had been put in front of him. Walking back to his room in a hurry with his head down, he didn’t expect much from a room that had only cost him $200 for fourteen nights, but he didn’t much mind. As long as he had a place to stay he could deal with everything else.

Upon finding 38B, Vic slid the key into the door, and held his breath before shoving the door out of his way. He hoped it wouldn’t be too bad, whatever it was. He stepped into the room, and smiled slightly; it was grotty, he wouldn’t deny, but it was nice. There was a small bed with covers that looked a little uncomfortable, and a door to the right that led off to an en suite bathroom. Pressed against one wall was a sofa, which Vic presumed served the function of a second bed to most of the guests that strolled through the facility. It was nowhere near as nice as his bedroom back home, but Vic didn’t care; it was quiet, and it was warm, and there was no one here to argue until the early hours of the morning.

Vic sat down on the bed and sighed, dropping his backpack and pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. It had been turned off since he left home almost twenty four hours ago. His family would have noticed that he was gone for sure now, and that realisation almost made him too nervous to turn the device back on. But he couldn’t avoid it forever; he was too curious, he wanted to know if his parents were angry or worried, and when the bus pulled up in Pennsylvania, Vic had known that it was only a matter of time before he had to be brave enough to find out. The device slowly came back to life; five texts from his mom, three from his pops, six from Mike and a whole bunch of missed calls swarmed his screen instantly.

He checked the messages from Mike first. He felt a little guilty about leaving him like that, in all honestly, because even though Mike stayed at his friends most of the time, he still needed his big brother, and Vic knew it. But Vic had been headed down a tough slope, and if he hadn’t left he knew that he would have killed himself; plans had already been formulating in his mind, it was just a matter of time before he put them into action. A missing brother was better than a dead brother, Vic reasoned in his mind.

From Mike: Vic, this had better be some sort of a joke you’re trying to pull, and I’m telling you, it is NOT funny!
From Mike: Why aren’t you answering my texts? Vic this isn’t funny, mom and dad are going crazy, they picked me up from school early and everything.
From Mike: I’m getting scared now Vic! Why won’t you answer your phone or reply to anyone? At least let me know if you’re okay.
From Mike: Vic please, you’re scaring me so bad. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I’m going to do if you don’t come back. Please, I need you, just come back.
From Mike: You’re my brother, I need you, I can’t do this on my own, please.
From Mike: Vic please, just come home. I promise I won’t go out so much anymore, I’ll spend more time with you. I swear, you won’t feel alone anymore if you come back cause I’ll never leave you alone. Please, come home. I’m scared and I don’t know what I’m going to do, I need you Vic. Please come home, or at least let me know you’re okay.

Vic sighed, regretting ever having turned his cell phone on. He felt bad about abandoning his little brother during such a rough time, but it never seemed to faze the younger Fuentes brother when their parents argued; he was never around to hear them argue. Vic quickly typed out a reply to his brother, concluding that if he couldn’t give him a solution, he could at least give him a little peace of mind.

To Mike: Mikey, you don’t need to be scared. I can’t come back just yet, and I can’t tell you where I am, but I promise I’m fine. Don’t be scared, you can do it. I love you, don’t forget that.

Vic sent the message and switched his phone off immediately; it wasn’t even worth reading the messages from his mom and dad. Nothing they said could make him change his mind and go home, it would just make the teen feel guiltier about leaving. Unless they were angry at him, and then he was sure that they would just convince him that he’d made the right decision and he still wouldn’t be convinced to go home. Pennsylvania was his home now, and would be for the foreseeable future, unless he got restless and wanted to move onto a new home; he supposed that was the beauty of being a teenage runaway—he could go wherever he wanted as long as he had money in his pocket.

The thought of money reminded Vic of his duties for the next day; in an ideal world, he would have loved to go out and explore the new city, but he knew his $900 wouldn’t last him long when the motel was $400 a month and he needed to eat on top of that. He needed a job, and he needed one urgently, so the second he woke up in the morning, he swore that he’d get up, get a shower, and go on a hunt. It wasn’t too hard to get jobs in small stores and coffee shops, at least not back in San Diego, and the fact that he was willing to start right away must have had some sort of appeal to employers, even if his lack of a high school diploma put them off. With a job in his back pocket, Vic was sure that he would be able to save up enough money to get a small apartment in no time, and even if he didn’t, he was sure he’d be able to afford living in the motel until he could find a more permanent home.

Restless, Vic quickly got up off of his bed, concluding that he could at least explore the surrounding area, even if it was nearly eleven o’clock at night. It seemed sensible for him to familiarise himself with his surroundings. His hood pulled up over his head, Vic headed out of his room, pocketing the key, and headed back through the reception, where the same boy was sat behind the counter, looking bored.

“Hey,” The boy called out as Vic passed him, and the Mexican stopped dead in his tracks, fearful that the employee was about to tell him that he knew his ID was fake, and that he’d better be gone by the time the morning came around. Vic turned around, looking at the receptionist, who was just smiling at him with a lazy half grin. “You look like you’re gonna go rob a store.”

Vic blushed and pushed his hood down, noting that the boy behind the desk didn’t actually look that much older than he did.

“What brings you to a shit hole like this, anyways?” The boy asked as he leaned forward and rested his chin on his palm, and Vic relaxed a little; the boy was bored, he just wanted to make conversation with someone around his own age. Vic could handle that.

He cleared his throat, “Just trying to get a new start, y’know? New town, new people, new beginnings.”

“Oh yeah,” The boy nodded in agreement, as if he truly did understand, although Vic presumed that he probably hadn’t ever left Pennsylvania, and didn’t have a clue what getting a new start was like. “So, where are you from?”

“California,” San Diego to be specific, but Vic didn’t want to give away too many details. There was no need to tempt fate by revealing everything about himself. The less people knew about him, the less likely his secret was to be revealed.

The receptionist looked excited, his bright eyes widening and he swiped his dark hair out of his face, and Vic noted mentally that he was pretty cute; his dark hair contrasted his pale skin perfectly, and his eyes were so bright they were almost enchanting. Vic concluded that he had chosen the right motel, because if he was going to be here for a long time, then he at least wanted to be able to look at something attractive.

“I’m Kellin, by the way.” The dark haired boy smiled, holding a hand out over the counter for Vic to shake. “We should like, hang out sometime if you’re gonna be here for good. You can’t know too many people here if you just rolled into town.”

Vic smiled and slid his hand into Kellin’s, shaking it slightly, “Vic, and sure, that’d be cool.”

He stood and chatted to Kellin for the next ten minutes, until the other boy’s shift ended and he declared that he’d be back the following day, if Vic wanted to talk a little more. Vic went back to his room, the idea of exploring completely out of his head as he thought about Kellin, and the fact that he had befriended the other boy so easily, when he hadn’t even been looking for a friend. Maybe that was what he’d been doing wrong back home; trying too hard to find a friend. And suddenly, he didn’t regret running away so much; it seemed worth it if he could look at Kellin, the cute receptionist who seemed enthralled in Vic’s tales about the West Coast. He was the perfect distraction to all of Vic’s problems, and he didn’t even know it.