I never knew just how difficult a psychology degree would be, and just how much work it would involve.

I'm currently at the library, trying to catch up on all my assignments that I've been putting off. 

Unfortunately, since I'm planning to be here for a few months, I have to be on top of my work load and make everyone believe that this is my long-term plan. Now, I know that Olive and James have been extremely nice to me, but this doesn't change the fact that I didn't want to come down to LA in the first place. 

Some might think that I'm making friends here, so that should be enough for me to want to stay. However, all I can think about is going back home; to my city and my friends. 

I continue looking through several books for more information to guide me in my upcoming assignment. 

The library was relatively empty; it looks like most people have their lives together and don't need the extra time in the library for studying and writing assignments. 

I wish I was an organised person, but that was never me. I have always left things until the last minute. 

My phone, which was on the table amongst all the books and articles I've been using for my assignment, has vibrated all of a sudden, startling me a little bit. 

I picked it up and looked at the screen, where I saw yet another text from my mother. She's been texting me everyday since I came here, which was 3 weeks ago. 

"Amber, I hope everything is going okay, please call me" - Charlotte

I only spoke to her once so far, and that was on the day I arrived here. I've not replied to any of the texts and voicemail messages she's been sending me since then. I don't want to talk to her.

She's the one who sent me to LA. 

She's the one who 'didn't know what to do with me anymore'. 

She's the one who gave up on me and didn't want anything to do with me.

So I'm done with her.

I continued with my work, but my phone would not stop going off with texts and calls from mother. It kept vibrating and the screen kept flashing, distracting me from my work.

After a while, I got fed up and turned off my phone. Did she not get the hint that I didn't want to talk to her? What do I have to do for her to leave me alone. 

All of a sudden, I felt a hand on my shoulder which scared me, causing me to grab the hand and bend it at an awkward angle making the person behind my scream in pain. 

"Ow ow hey chill please oh my god let go, it's me, Dylan" said the voice behind me, causing me to relax and let go of the hand. I turned around to face him, and saw him holding his hand against his chest and massaging it gently. 

Damn I must've really hurt him.

"Sorry but you really shouldn't come up behind me like that without announcing yourself, next time I might hurt you worse than that" I meant it, I always hated people coming up behind me. It made me think that I was in danger straight away.

"Don't worry, I've made a mental note to myself about that. I'm never approaching you from behind ever again" he grumbled, still massaging his hand close to his chest. What a baby...

"Anyways, what are you doing here? I've got a paper to write so make it quick" I rushed out, not wanting to be too distracted from my paper since I was on a bit of a roll right now.

"Oh yeah that... why are you not picking up your phone? My mum rang me in a panic, she's been trying to reach you for a while now and you've got her worried" he rushed out, remembering why he's here.

"I turned my phone off cause my mother would not stop bothering me and I needed to focus. You can let Olive know that I'm fine and I'll be home later tonight" I waved him away, hoping he'll leave me alone.

There was a silence and so I assumed that Dylan left the library to calm down his worried mother. I focused back on my work, typing on my laptop. 

The chair opposite me slides out and as I look up, Dylan settles into the chair. I give him a questioning look, wondering why he sat down. 

"Is everything going okay Ambs? Is there anything you want to talk about?" he asks, leaning in slightly and waiting for my answer.

"Umm yeah. Why do you ask?" I continue looking through some articles, not realising just how serious Dylan's face is. 

"Why don't you want to talk to your mum? Is she really that horrible?" his voice sounded genuinely concerned, although I'm not sure why. 

"She sent me here after having a few issues with me so what do you think? She not getting the Mother of the Year award anytime soon, that's for sure" I sighed whilst finally looking up at him. 

"According to my mum, she's really worried"

"What do you mean? How does Olive know? Have they been talking?" I fired the questions at him one after the other.

"My mum just got off the phone with your mum before she rang me. When your mum couldn't reach you, she rang my mum hoping that you were home" he explained, trying to whisper as we were in the library and after my outburst of questions, people started giving us pointed looks.

"Ugh she is unbelievable!" I smacked my hand against the table, frustration rolling off of me in waves. 

Dylan looks more and more worried with every word that comes out of my mouth. He puts his hand on my shoulder and starts to rub it in a soothing manner. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, not wanting to draw anymore unnecessary attention to myself. 

"Better?" Dylan asked

"Yeah I think so. Thanks" it's been a few minutes now and I felt a bit calmer. 

Some might think that I overreacted, that the information that Dylan told me wasn't that big of a deal. I strongly disagree.

My mother now has no right to check up on me and see how I'm doing. She sent me here because she didn't want the burden of having to help me and deal with my issues. She has lost every right to talk to me or about me, and I refuse to talk to her. 

"Okay well if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here you know. You can always vent to me about anything" Dylan reassured me, making me smile slightly.

"I doubt you want to hear about my drug problems but thanks" I smiled back at him, appreciating his offer and support.

_______________________________

After everything that happened in the library, Dylan left for his football practice and I stayed in the library to finish the essay I had to write. 

I was now walking home, I could've waited for Dylan to finish his practice and for him to drive me back, but I was too impatient. My long session in the library has drained all my energy and all I could think about was having a bath and going to bed. 

The sun was now setting slowly, leaving the sky in orange and pink hues. It was still warm though, and I was so happy that I decided to wear a comfortable outfit to the library which made my long walk home easier. 

What I was not expecting was a car that came speeding down from around the corner. All I managed to see was a flash of black, and the sounds of tires skidding against the black road. 

It all looked like a scene from an action film, where there are car chases and somehow civilians never get hurt during them. 

For a millisecond, I was completely frozen. I didn't move, I didn't breathe, I just stared at the car that was coming towards me like a bullet. Weirdly, all I could think about was my luck that I have finished my assignment on time because it seemed like I will be spending the next few weeks in the hospital. That is, if I survive the car crashing into me. 

All of a sudden, my brain jerked me awake from my frozen state and my body jumped into action. Just as the car was nearing me, I jumped aside into the bushes that were nearby; away from the speeding car. The sound of the car crashing echoed loudly in the air. 

As I looked up from the ground after my jump, I saw the car crash in the same place I was standing on a mere few seconds ago. 

My breathing was erratic; how in the hell did I survive this. I was positive that I was going to get crushed by this car, that I was going to die right then and there. 

The door opened on the driver's side and I heard a loud thump. The driver's side was facing away from me so I couldn't see what was happening, but my guess was that whoever was driving the car was trying to now get out of it. 

My hands were shaking, and my legs felt as if they would not have enough strength to carry me anywhere. 

I willed myself to stand up and started making my way towards the car, needing to see whether the person driving was hurt. As I was making my way around the car, I saw a slumped body on the ground. I could now see that it was a man, with black hair and slightly torn clothes. 

He was breathing deeply, almost as if he was trying to come to terms with what has happened. He didn't seem to be injured apart from a few scrapes and bruises.

 I was leaning my body against the back of the car, my body becoming limp as the adrenaline was slowly leaving my body. I felt as if I had no energy in me at all, like I was close to collapsing.

After a few seconds, the man started to stand up, taking his time and moving each limb very slowly. As soon as he looked up, he found my eyes as if he felt that I've been watching him the whole time. 

The wide black eyes found mine and I recognised them immediately. His eyes were the same ones that looked into mine a few weeks ago, just outside of the abandoned building which was surrounded by police cars.

The black eyed man was in handcuffs then, and now he was sitting on the ground a few metres away from me. I saw a quick flash of recognition in his eyes, he might be remembering the staring match we shared a few weeks ago. 

His face was full of panic all of a sudden, as he rushed to his feet and started running away from the scene. 

As he passed by me, he pushed me roughly aside, making me loose my balance and hit my head on the concrete. 

The pain in my head was getting greater, and as I put my hand on my forehead, I felt a liquid on my palm. I looked behind me to see if I could still see the man, however he was nowhere to be seen. 

After trying to stay awake and to stand up, my body was refusing me at all costs. 

My vision started to get blurry, until all I could see was black. 

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