Running awayMature

I could already tell New York was different to life in England. Everything was so big…so bright, so mesmerizing. Just being in the back of this small yellow taxi brought me excitement. I was in New York, the Big Apple, the bustling bright city that I had only dreamed of escaping to. It all seemed so surreal that I was actually here now.

I wonder if people are going to accept me… I couldn’t help wonder. I pushed that thought to the back of my mind. Don’t be stupid, you’re here for one purpose and one purpose only. Another voice whispered Stop running away… I pushed that one right to the very back. That voice was not going to surface again any time soon.

My music was what had brought me here and that was all I was going to focus on. Nothing else mattered. I could live without friends. Heck I’d done it for the past sixteen years. Why break a pattern?

Truth was, I was a naturally shy person, extremely introvert and I only had one true friend but she was back in England. I didn’t connect well to people my age, I found it extremely difficult. Most of my life in England was spent holed up in my room with my guitar, trying to figure out a new melody, another song which I could relate to.

The taxi pulled to a stop outside some small, nondescript café. I threw some money over the seat, thanked the driver and stepped out.

‘Hey!’ the driver called to me. ‘You only gave me a twenty!’

‘Oh!’ my cheeks flamed red. ‘I’m sorry.’ Fumbling in my purse, I tried to make sense of the American money. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘You’re not from around here are you?’ He raised his eyebrow.

Well duh.

‘No I’m actually from England, I’ve never been here in my life.’

‘Forget it then, just try and stay out of trouble.’ Without another word, he pulled the door shut and sped off.

Sighing, I started towards the café. However, I wasn’t looking where I was going and seconds later I found myself walking straight into someone. My books flew out of my hand and scattered across the pavement.

‘Sorry! Sorry!’ I gasped desperately, scrambling for my books. The man sprawled on the floor was very good looking, but the look he directed me now sent chills down my spine. He had short black hair which contrasted sharply with his pale complexion. His eyes were the strangest though; one was a bright green, the other an icy blue. I didn’t hold eye contact for long; my instincts were telling me this guy was dangerous.

Brushing himself off, he stepped over me like I was a piece of rubbish and hissed, ‘Just watch where you’re going.’

I was dumbfounded for several seconds before I collected my belongings and stood up with as much grace and dignity as I could muster.

‘What a jerk,’ I mumbled to myself.

I was not going to last two seconds here.

 

{Elliot Minor - Running Away}

The End

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