YIPEE CHAPTER TWO :D I’m very tired yay The cover is very old art sry ___________________________________________________ Chapter two ⬇️⬇️⬇️ I roll up my one pair of jeans and toss them into my small suitcase. I only have two outfits. One is what I’m wearing right now, which is an average tang top with a belt and leggings. The other is my work outfit, or what I wear when my other clothes get dirty. It’s a pair of battered jeans with a pastel-ish sweater. I add the “ish” because its practically coated in dirt. I would wash it, but I’m not sure I want people to know that I’m extremely poor. My idea of cleaning is a rinse in the sink and a hanging over the balcony. I sigh. Again. I sigh a lot. I grab the zipper to my suitcase and yank it closed. I look back at my hotel room. Maybe I should take the sheets. I could use them as a first aid kit or padding for…something. I’ve learned from past experiences not to leave any resources. It would be stealing, but that’s never stopped me before. Without thinking, I tug the sheets off the bed and stuff them into my suitcase. I zip it back up. I lean back. I’d better get out of here before they notice. I stand up and leave without looking back. As soon as I’m downstairs, I notice the desk person staring at my bag. Fudge. He probably noticed how, with the sheets, it looks a little bigger. Desk people always notice things like that. I try to walk past him in the least suspicious way possible. I’ve gotten better at not looking suspicious. In the corner of my vision, I see he’s about to open his mouth to say something. I quicken my pace. If I can just get to the door… I push the door open and leave before he can say anything. I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I take a minute to look around and calculate. If New York is that way on the map… I wait until no one is looking and jump up onto the roof of a building. I use the straps on my suitcase and turn it into a backpack. Then I start running. I was genetically engineered to be naturally good at nearly everything. Not GENERALLY everything, mind you, just the basic things, like running, sneaking, acrobatics, talking, all that stuff. This may make me sound perfect, but I’m really not. I literally just stole some hotel bedsheets, like, five minutes ago. I’m not perfect. Plus running saves a lot of money and unwanted plane rides. It’s just facts. As I run, I think. Not about anything in particular; that’s just painful. No, I’m just thinking about…stuff. About the excellent steal I just pulled off at the hotel, about how everyone at school will probably wonder why I just disappeared, about what I should do on the way there. Hrm. Maybe I should call James over… James is my Ai system. He’s kind of like the Jarvis that Tony Stark made, but real. Also, I don’t think I’m going to make him into a living being with an infinity stone in his forehead. He is in a robotic form, but that’s different. I press my finger to my earring, which has a small speaker microchip that I built into it. As I run, I jump from house to house. Luckily, it’s still very early in the morning, so not a whole lot of people are out. “James,” I say, my voice unsteady from the movement. “Bring the car over.” Im not getting the car because I don’t believe I can run to New York. I’m getting it because it has all my drawing stuff inside, and you can’t exactly draw while running. I run for a couple more minutes, then I spot my black Subaru. I screech to a halt on the very edge of the building I’m on, then slide down the side wall and hop into the car.
The door slams behind me. “James, take us to New York,” I say as I pull out my notebook and pencil. The car starts moving, and I begin to sketch the first thing that comes to my mind. Which, for some reason, turns out to be ducks. I start with the head, my pencil making skirtching noises as it dances across the page. As I doodle the bill, the car takes a sudden jump of speed. The momentum throws me back and I hit the back of my head on the headrest. I rub my head. I don’t know why that still surprises me. I modified this car to go decidedly faster than a normal Subaru would, mostly because if I get sent to jail for going past the speed limit, I could probably escape in record time. Also, when you think about it, I’ve had worse. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. Like the walls of the car are caving in on me. Oh no. It’s happening again. I groan internally. Or externally. I don’t know, I can't really tell anymore. Nonono. Not now. Please not now. I close my eyes, but the flashbacks consume my mind, causing all my feelings and thoughts and worries to all mash together into one big ball of anxious horribleness in my chest. I try to focus my brain on breathing, on calming down, but its too far in now. I can’t stop it. Laughing, playing tag. No. Crying, comforting arms wrapped around me. Stop. Screaming, watching the only person I ever cared about fall to the ground. I can’t breathe. The air around me refuses to go into my lungs. I’m suffocating. I can feel myself shaking. I need air. I try to move, run, scream, but my body refuses to take any action with no air to support it. Finally, one thing comes into my mind. “James,” my voice is cracked and wobbly. “James, roll down a window.” I hear the noise of a window opening and loud air passing the car. With only one thing in my head, I find myself with my head out of the car, wind filling my lungs, being able to breathe again. The car slows down and comes to a stop for a stoplight. Then I lean forward and throw up.
