A Fated Trip

CONNIE'S P.O.V

So many thoughts were racing through my head, I couldn't focus, they were too fast. I felt like I was trapped in a whirlwind with only one way out. But I couldn't. What if I got hurt again? What if he decided he didn't want me anymore? Just like last time...

I jumped in my car with no intended destination in mind, but I found myself pulling into the car park of my block of flats.

Why was I here? The first place he'd come...

I ran up the stairs to my flat on the fifth floor and let myself in. My roommate Josh was there with his band mates having a jam session. He called out to me, but I'd gone before he could finish. Josh didn't really have a permanent home, he was always on tour. But when he wasn't he found comfort either here, at his parent's or his girlfriend's.

I'd known Josh pretty much since I was a couple of hours old. His parents were best friends with mine and we always used to played together; until Josh moved out of Essex and I didn't see him again for three years. I was seven years old when I lost everything. 1997 is a year that I can't forget, no matter how much I want to. Some people are blessed with the ability for things - that happened over ten years ago - to be a little hazy. Unfortunately, the year that turned my world upside-down wasn't something that ever got even the slightest bit hazy.

But Josh was there for me. His parents took me in as their own and I would forever be in debt to them for it. Josh and his family actually saved my life. Without them I have no idea where I would be and I can't even bring myself to ponder the possibilities.

But Josh couldn't be on my mind right now, he would only make me not want to do this. Without even realising it, I was throwing clothes into a rucksack. My mind was emotionless in its planning of where I would next be staying the night.

I was leaving. I didn't know where to, but I was going. Ready to leave behind all those painful memories, so I could finally get over him. I grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen out of my bedroom drawer, and started to scribble down the message I was sure would greet him when he came to find me. I didn't know what I was writing, I just let the pen write for itself. The only part I was conscious of was the name I wrote on the folded paper...

I guess I was covering my tracks.

I put the note on my pillow and tried to stop myself from processing what I was doing. Because I was doing this, I had to. I was running away; away from this city to another. I finished cramming as many clothes as I could into my tiny rucksack, grabbed my purse, the picture on my bedside table and ran out the flat, yelling to Josh that I'd call him later.

This was it. I was really leaving. I jumped into my beaten up little car and pulled onto the road. I was finally moving on.

Leaving behind the one I was still crazy in love with. The one who didn't love me back...