"Daddy, why do you and mommy fight so much?"

"Well, sweetheart, there are many things that your mother will never understand."

My father faced me as I got lost in his warm, chestnut-coloured eyes. I saw a flicker of emotion build up in him that he gently pushed aside.

"Like what?" I propped my hands up on the kitchen counter.

He took a sharp breath and broke our eye contact.

"Like what it means...to want to throw your whole life away. It's an artistic madness. A yearning to re-create again and again...like an actor."

                               ***

I clutched my chest firmly as a hefty weight fell onto my shoulders.

"Ugh," I groaned, slapping my palms over my eyes.

Then I held the sides of my head and squeezed as hard as I could.

"No," I cried finally, "I can't."

I closed my eyes.

I can't do as he did. I have to be better, right?

Yes, I did. I had to conform.

I tried to ignore my swirling thoughts and pushed myself up off the bed. My hands were shaking madly; my heartbeat was irregular.

I glanced over at the sundress hung up on the curtain rod and remembered that I had somewhere to be. So, I cracked my knuckles and shut off the imminent war inside my head.

Before I left home, I was tempted to apologise to Catherine since we hadn't spoken since last night. I also had some baffling news to give to her, the thought of which caused my body to ache.

About an hour later, I arrived at a food court in the mall, awaiting my dreaded company.

I passed my hands through my hair aimlessly. A few of my long locks tangled in my fingers as I busied myself with undoing the knots.

"Oh my God, Beth?"

I glanced up at Stacy, one of the girls I knew from Highschool. She had a pair of rectangular shades perched on top of her head, and I noticed that she was wearing her hair at least six inches shorter.

"How are you?" I faked a smile.

"Good! You look..." she cringed, slightly, "...tell me, what's up?"

She sat across the table and placed a black Chanel handbag on top of it.

"Oh, you know..." I tried to seem casual.

No, she didn't know.

Right as I looked up to recover from my awkward sentiment, I saw two other girls rushing toward our table. When Stacy followed my long gaze, the squealing commenced.

"I haven't seen you girls in forever!" Avalon, the most petite out of all of us, beamed.

While they were on their feet, bouncing around and hugging, I sat staring at the table.

"Oh, Elizabeth...you're here too." Danielle gestured as her blue hair swung lusciously.

"Hey..." I stood and wrapped my arms around each of them.

"Alright, what should we eat?" Stacy clapped.

It only took around fifteen minutes for everyone to get their food since the food court was nearly deserted. I could tell by the cashiers' wide eyes that they were grateful for any small profit.

"Everyone take ten minutes to give us the deets," Avalon waved her palm excitedly and used her other hand to garnish her salad with croutons.

"Well, Jake and I moved in together..." Danielle started slowly, pausing long enough for a collective reaction, "And let's just say things are moving pretty fast."

"I hear wedding bells!" Stacy sang as the other two laughed.

I sighed heavily. Wooden splits in a table have never seemed more fascinating to me. I stabbed a chicken nugget with my plastic fork and stuffed it into my mouth along with a couple of fries.

"I'm trying to expand my fashion line." Stacy squeezed her pan-roasted sandwich, "I'm just looking for a few more models."

Danielle's emerald eyes widened, "Avalon would be perfect for that."

She protested, "C'mon Dani! My legs aren't long enough - we all know that."

They shared another collective chuckle.

                                 ***

My father had met his favourite people on the road - miles and miles away from the place he'd call home.

"Where are they now?" I brought my knees up to my chest and balanced on the sofa's armrest.

"Hard to say," he ran his fingers through his slowly graying hair, "They're hard to keep track of, those guys."

He shook his head and then laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" I squinted at him, "What'd you remember?"

He looked up and locked his eyes with mine, "Them," he said.

I'd feel a pang in my chest every time my father spoke about his old friends. I had no one to speak highly of and no one who could speak highly of me. Most bridges I crossed burned way before I could reach the other end.

"I'm sixteen," I told him as if he didn't know, "And I have no real friends."

"How'd you know?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Cuz..." I brought down my legs and let them dangle. After I realised I had no explanation, I simply shrugged.

My father smiled and placed his hand on my knee.

"You haven't met them yet. You can't talk of people you don't know," he removed his hand, "All my friends wear leather, and their cheeks are as scarred as their faces are weathered."

I smiled faintly at the thought before a giggle escaped from my mouth.

"Those are my people. Who are yours?"

I shook my head, "I wouldn't know."

I took in a sharp breath.

My father continued, "You'll figure out as we all do eventually."

                                 ***

"How about you, Elizabeth?"

I snapped out of my daze, "Huh? What's that?"

Danielle took a bite out of her mashed potato.

"What's going on in your life?" Stacy forced a smile.

I took a deep breath. I could tell the girls about the dilemma I'm facing, but how could I make them understand? They didn't know about my father, Catherine's plans to move, or even my gigs at the tavern.

Damn. I really haven't told the girls much about my personal life.

"Nothing," I grinned briefly.

"...Oh." Danielle frowned, "Okay then."

"Beth, it's too early for fried chicken," Avalon gestured to my fast-food box, "Maybe that explains your pimple?"

"...It's a menstrual breakout," I said flatly.

"Oh." the three of them said in unison, with different looks on their faces.

Then we spent a couple moments in total silence. Although I was gazing at my fries, I knew that the girls were exchanging judgemental glances above the table.

"...Actually..." I looked up rashly, "I'm moving across the country."

I pressed my lips into a line and nodded continuously, trying hard to convince myself.

"What?" Stacy shouted as I widened my eyes at her delayed reaction, "By yourself?"

"...Yes," my voice almost caught in my throat. I licked my lips.

"When?" Avalon tilted her head.

"Soon. Very soon," I laughed, "And y'all may never hear from me again. Or you might, who knows."

I tittered again, this time more maniacally. My heart fluttered as I felt a rush of adrenaline so wild that I knew it would disrupt my most level-headed thoughts.

When my small episode was over, I popped my last nugget into my mouth and looked at them.

As I looked, I saw their faces with false concerns written all over them.

"Y'all don't care what happens to me," I couldn't erase the smile plastered onto my face, "I know that."

Danielle glimpsed over to Avalon and Stacy and grimaced.

"Can we... call, at least?"

I flipped my hair over my shoulder and took a few gulps of water.

"Yes..." I said cautiously before bursting out laughing, "Yes! As many times as you'd like!"

"Should we remove you from the group chat?" Stacy said in an annoyed tone while Avalon slapped her shoulder lightly.

"Yes..." I looked her dead in the eye and said sternly, "...Please do."

                                ***

That afternoon, Catherine walked through the door with a few grocery bags. When she saw me sitting at the dining table, she stopped in her tracks. I folded my hands onto the table and gave her a big smile. Her eyes trailed down to the suitcase at the foot of my chair.

"...I don't like that look on your face," she said hesitantly.

"Sit," my beam wavered only a little as I tapped the seat beside me.

Catherine slowly set the bags down and then swung her leg over the chair. The tip of her flat shoes grazed against the rough material of my suitcase, so I gently rolled it away.

"At least talk to mom, just before -"

"Hey..." I said, standing to cup the sides of her face, "I'll be okay. I'm not a child."

She raised her freshly done eyebrows at me just as I scoffed.

"You know very well Mom and I don't talk," I reminded her, "If she asks, tell her I've found a handsome millionaire who, literally, swept me away. Miles and miles -"

A small laugh left her mouth, yet her eyes were riddled with pain.

"Don't do this, Beth," she shook her head.

"I have to... I have to get away."

Admitting it caused fear to bubble in my gut. My hands began to shake again as my bottom lip quivered. I was going to take a risk - something that was long overdue.

"Where will you go?" she asked, her lips trembling.

"I'll hop on the bus, then figure it out."

"Oh God," she put her head in her hands.

"I -"

"You don't know what's out there... you're still young, I -" her voice took on a panicked tone, "Is it counselling? Is that what you need? A therapist? If so, I'm engaged to one, I -"

"No, Catherine," I pleaded with her.

If she continued on like that, I'd end up changing my mind.

I couldn't possibly change my mind.

"There's nothing left for me here." I glared at her and let out a harsh sigh, "Nothing!"

I tried to calm down. I had to avoid getting worked up again since I had to leave here on a good note.

"Will you return?" her eyes were glossy now, "At least in time for my wedding?"

I averted my eyes and stared at my lap. Catherine's wedding. Her fiancé. 
Her plans. 

There was nothing of mine.

"I can't make any promises," I said shakily.

Her mouth dropped into a frown as she started sobbing. I wanted to console her, to tell her that all I needed was time to think, but no - my mind was made up.

Catherine stood and ran into her bedroom, leaving the door wide open. I leaned forward, trying to peer inside. Then she came out with a picture frame.

She stood in front of me and flipped the frame over to reveal the photo.

"Him! You're just like him!" she sobbed, "You're doing me what he did our mom!" 

I creased my forehead as my breathing quickened.

"How do you have that?" I half-yelled on the edge of my seat.

I gripped onto the edges of the frame holding a captivating photo of my parents when they were newly-weds. I tried tugging it away from her, but she was insistent.

"You bitch!" she screamed as I finally pulled it loose and sent it flying toward the opposite wall.

It plunged to the ground and shattered. Catherine crumpled to her knees, overcome with tears. I was crying now, too, as I glanced over at the shards of glass laying across the naked photo. 

At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. 

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and rolled it over to look through the peephole.

"It's your fiancé." I spat as I unlocked the door and stormed off into my room, dragging the suitcase behind me.

                                ***

I hated travelling at night, but I couldn't wait until the morning. I knew that it only took a few hours for guilt to get a hold of me. I needed to act now.

I traded my suitcase for a travel bag about the size of my torso. I packed my wallet, makeup, favourite outfits and, of course, my lighter.

When I left my room, Darian was still in the living room with Catherine. She rested her head on his lap and whimpered while he traced his fingers through her scalp. I fixed my bag on my shoulder and marched past them.

"Wait -" she said to me, then reached into her back pocket, "Take this."

I paused and walked back to her. 

She pulled out a large envelope. I was reluctant to take it. Once I did, she gave me a look. 

"Emergencies only." She instructed, sounding like our mother.

I answered weakly, "You got it."

Darian lent me a polite smile. I noticed, for the first time, how well his amber eyes complemented his dark brown skin.

I knew that he thought nothing good of me. Still, I returned his small gesture.

I walked over to the dining room. Catherine had cleaned up the glass shards and placed the photo of my parents on the dining table. There was a small note on top of it, in my mother's handwriting - one that she had placed inside the frame after my father left us.

It read:

Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me.

I picked up the note and the photo and glanced over to the couch where Catherine was kneeling on the sofa and watching me go.

My eyes burned. I released a troubled sigh. I carefully folded the photo and the note into my front pocket and looked back at Catherine once more. Tears still streamed down her face. I quickly looked away.

"Goodbye," was all that I managed to mouth as I opened the front door and left.

                               ***

The bathroom at the bus station was revolting. Muddy footprints painted the wet tiles - the mirrors were cloudy and cracked. The counters were surprisingly clean...at least they appeared so. Regardless of all that, I set my bag down near the sink and applied some more mascara.

I caught a glimpse of my bus ticket poking out of my bag pocket. The bus was due to leave in fifteen minutes. The ride would take me away from here - to a place where hopefully, I could start again.

By the time I left the bathroom, the station wasn't as crowded as before.

I sat on an empty bench and clutched my bag tightly. The smell of my old room was already nostalgic. Why? Maybe my mind was playing tricks with me. My heart was jumping for joy at the mere idea that -

"Can I sit here, pretty?" an old man appeared beside me.

I turned up my nose at him with a suspicious look.

"...No?" I responded.

- The mere idea that one day I could actually miss this place. Then again, how much worse would life have to get for that to become true?

The bus eventually arrived. I piled on eagerly - too eagerly - alongside dozens of other persons. I imagined that they, too, were emotional misfits and that they were taking a prodigious leap of faith like me.

A man dressed in a worn-out, grey suit pushed his way past me.

He argued into his cellphone, "Jessica, I needed that deposit today!" He ran his hands through his silky hair.

Then I remembered that, in fact, most of the people on this bus had it all figured out - or at least some of it. Either way, it was enough for them to buy a ticket and grab the best seat possible.

Perhaps, it could become enough for me, too.

I sat across from the door and put my bag beside me. I knew that it was a selfish thing to do. I went over my odds of not falling asleep on this trip, and then I justified it. I rested my head back.

How much better could life get, to where I'll never have to miss this place?

As the last few stragglers filed in and the door closed shut, I realised that I was moving head-first into finding out.

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