#and it's so heartbreaking because it's like every possible misreading of the straight girl kiss

[ladynuwanda]

Whatever Souls Are Made Of (Michael LangdonXMallory AU) - Chapter 5

A/N: This is the final actual chapter, and probably my favourite! We still have an Epilogue to go, so don’t give up on this story just yet... ;)

Warnings: Deaths. Many. Kinda gory. Definitely bloody. I tried not to get to graphic about it, but I had to.

Word Count: 4K

Michael was sitting alone with a glass of wine in the library. All guests were long gone, and his personal staff in the Grange were already retired for the night. Lady Mead was the last to leave him, but not before saying how proud she was, how much of a success she thought the Evening had been. And she had good reason to be proud, his return to Yorkshire was exactly as they had spent all those years planning. The party was flawless, everyone was exactly where they were supposed to be, his reveal had the impact he wanted, and now he knew all the witches in Robichaux Manor were quivering in their boots, waiting for his next move. Everything was happening according to the plan. So why on Earth was he feeling so miserable?

It was her, obviously. Seeing her again, holding her in his arms for the brief time of one dance. He hadn’t thought it would have such a strong effect on him. But why did she have to appear so happy to see him? The loving way those beautiful eyes were feasting on his face, the sweet smile dancing on her lips, the way her gentle hand held on to him, like her life depended on it... it made absolutely no sense, and he felt like that lonely little boy again in her presence. He could see her with his waking eyes, as if she was standing right there in the library, brights eyes on his, her chest heaving with every breath. His vision of Mallory walked towards him and crouched in front of his armchair, “Michael. It really is you. You came back”, the vision put her hand on his with the lightest of touches. Light but solid. Undeniably real.

Michael felt like he was in a dream as he slowly put his wine glass down and reached out to touch Mallory’s face, part of him fearing she would disappear in a flower-scented mist once he did. But she didn’t, she was real. Somehow, armed with her own bravery and magic, she had walked all the way from the Heights to the Grange in the middle of the night and into his library unnoticed. She smiled when his thumb brushed her cheek and he couldn’t help smiling back in disbelief. Suddenly everything was forgotten - the sadness in which they had parted from each other, the years apart, the ominous reunion - and it was just the two of them, together again. Without ever knowing who started it, they threw themselves in each other’s arms, and shared a kiss full of longing and relief.

Time stood still for a moment, and nothing else was real. They were just lost in each other’s arms and lips. Together again. Back home. Both of them. But reality slowly crept into their minds. The faint memory that they were on a mission was becoming more of a pressing matter with each second, until it became a painful sore in their hearts, that was impossible to ignore. This man wanted Mallory and all her sisters dead, how could he kiss her with such passion? And Mallory had rejected him most cruel and definitely, what was she doing sneaking into his library in the middle of the night, now? Their lips parted and they gazed at each other like strangers. The ice wall of pain and suspicion was between them once again.

“You’ve got some nerve coming here like this”, Lord Langdon picked his glass of wine again and took a sip. And Mallory thought that he was right, but not in the way he was thinking. “Did your Supreme tell you to come and beg me for mercy?”, the look in his eyes made it clear that there was no mercy left in him anymore. “I wanted to see you when no one else was around, Lord Langdon”, these last two words tasted like poison in her lips, “I needed to know who this man you’ve become truly is”. With a bitter chuckle he got up from his armchair and slowly walked around her “Well, take a good look then, what do you see?”. Mallory got herself up, and looked him straight in the eyes “A little boy in a Lord’s clothes”.

Michael closed the distance between them in less than a second, his face glowing with anger, so close she could feel his breath on her lips “I should have you killed for this insolence, Witch!” It wasn’t the first time she saw Michael’s face become the white-faced demon in his fury, but it was the first time that fury was aimed towards her “And why don’t you?”, she said it with a confidence she didn’t really feel. “A quick death is too simple for you, I want you to feel as I’ve felt. What it’s like to have your beating heart ripped from your chest and crushed before your very eyes. I want to take everything you hold dear, your home, your family... Everything! I want to see the despair in your eyes when you see what you thought was your life shatter to nothing. Because I know that despair, Mallory, you gave it to me the night you sent me away!”

“You think I don’t already know what it feels like? You think you’re the only one who’s lost something when you left... I died that night!! You want to break my heart, well you can’t: I’ve broken it, and in breaking it I have broken yours. And it has killed me. I’ve been nothing but a shell of the person I was. But I don’t regret it, because it saved your life. My heart, my soul, my own life are nothing to me if they can buy you freedom and safety, and that’s what I did. And it cost me everything. And I paid it gladly, knowing you were still alive somewhere in the world. And now you are back, talking of revenge. It is you who’s got some nerve, Lord Langdon, not me!”, Mallory’s eyes were all but sending sparks to the air, it was like the girl herself was on fire as she said those words, with her flushed cheeks and heaving chest leaving no room for anyone to doubt the truth in her words.

For the first time Michael revisited the memories of that night without being blinded by his own pain, and Mallory’s heartbreak was so obvious now. He could remember the pain in her eyes and her voice, and how desperately she had fought to hide them. “You lied... to save me?”, Michael was speaking in the smallest voice, again the little boy she had known not the devilish Lord Langdon. And it was that voice what broke her, all the pain she had spent five years holding in bursted out of her in a flood of tears and sobs she almost collapsed under. But Michael caught her with sure hands and pulled her to himself, holding his precious girl in his arms one more time. And she let herself cry freely in the shelter of those loving arms.

It’s like they forgot everything the minute they were together again. That the Coven would have killed him, what Mallory had to say to make him leave, all those years apart, Michael’s thirst for revenge... everything was forgotten, only that moment mattered. That they were back in each other’s arms. That she had always loved him and he, in his turn, had never stopped loving her. A love that even time would lie down and be still for. They kissed like it was the beginning and the end of the world. All the longing slowly turning to a thirst, the desperate desire to become one once again, right there in the library. “We’ll never be parted again, Mallory, we belong together”, he gasped the words between passionate kisses, “I will be a King in this new world that I’m building, and you will be my Queen.”

It hit Mallory like ice-cold water was poured over her head. “Michael, what... What are you talking about?”, she looked at him with fear in her eyes, “you’re still going to go through with your plan?”. “Why, of course I am!”, he seemed puzzled by her question, “more than ever now that I’ve got you by my side, my love! The Coven wanted me dead, and tearing us apart all but killed us... the world would be better off without the witches!”. “Michael, I am witch. It’s my family you’re talking about...”, Mallory had to do her best to keep herself from shivering from the cold she felt in her heart. “Your family who kept secrets from you? Who would have me killed before I could know what I’m capable of? What you are capable of... they did everything to keep you on a leash all these years and called it love, Mallory... you can be so much more, and by my side you will be!”, he misread the shock in her eyes and pulled her to his chest again to soothe her, giving a kiss to the top of her head, “I know it’s a lot to take in on one night, Mal... give yourself some time to work it out. It will all make sense...”, he gently stroked her hair and rested his cheek against her head, while Mallory was frozen in fear in his arms.

Mallory returned to the Manor that night carrying doom on her shoulders. Michael would be waiting for her answer, and then he would put his plan back in motion. With or without Mallory by his side. But she simply had no answer to give. None of the options seemed like a solution. She couldn’t simply join Michael and watch him destroy the Coven and the life she had built for herself. But she didn’t have the strength to give him up once again, now that they had been reunited against all odds. She wanted to go straight to her bedroom, as silent as possible, before someone would find her and ask her what news she brought from the Grange. The entire Manor seemed to be asleep, and she thanked the Goddess for this small blessing.

Once again, Mallory used her magic to go unnoticed into the house. As she passed by the parlour, she saw that Zoe and Kyle were there sharing a chaise longue, holding each other close and talking in whispers. They wouldn’t have noticed that she was there even if she hadn’t been using a concealing spell, they were just too focused on each other to pay attention to anything else in the world. They were looking into each others eyes and kissing slowly and gently. Making promises of eternal love, come what may, and of doing their very best to protect each other against whatever darkness might fall upon them. And in that moment Mallory’s broken heart hated them. She resented the simplicity of their love, and every single happy couple she had ever met. Why were people allowed to find each other and live happily together, while Mallory and Michael had to have so much pain and misery between them. Then she remembered that Kyle Spencer had already died and been brought back to life through an elaborate ritual. Nothing was as simple as it seemed. And she decided to put her resentment aside and take her shattered heart to bed.

In the morning, Mallory was once again spared to have to report her conversation with Michael to the Coven, since everyone else in the Manor had their attentions diverted by an unexpected visitor: Madison Montgomery. Even more unexpectedly, she was there to profess her undying loyalty to the Coven. She told them of how Lady Mead had stolen her body the night they left the Grange, and brought her back through a dark magic ritual. But according to Madison’s story, they had done so because they thought having a witch on their side would be some form of leverage for them. So she bid her time, waiting for a chance to escape and go back home. She swore she was never on their side, specially because everyone in Lord Langdon’s household seem a little too pleased with the idea of having a witch on their leash.

The Coven didn’t even have time to question the truth in Madison’s words, as they were interrupted by another unexpected visitor. Lord Langdon, himself. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to betray us, Madison. To be honest, I never thought you capable of waiting an entire night to come wagging your tail back to Lady Cordelia.”, even though those words had been spoken in a quiet voice from outside the Manor, everyone in the parlour could hear them loud and clear inside their heads. “You should run! Assemble the Coven in the woods, come up with a plan to take him down... I’ll hold him off for as long as I can!”, Madison was already walking towards the door when Lady Cordelia reached her. The Supreme held on to Madison in a maternal way that none of them was used to “I can’t let you do this, my dear girl... it’s not fair”, she touched Madison’s face, tears welling in both women’s eyes. “Fair or not, it’s the only way...”, Madison lifted her hand and tenderly touched the one that was resting against her cheek, “Go!”, she smiled bravely at Lady Cordelia.

The first two people Michael saw leaving the Manor were Kyle and Zoe. And he felt the same kind of resentment Mallory had felt the night before. Everything was so simple for those two. They both had everything they ever wanted... Zoe wouldn’t even let Kyle stay dead, for crying out loud! That’s where it all went wrong. When Kyle came into the Manor and Michael was reduced to his apprentice. And Zoe was just an ordinary witch, not the next Supreme, they could live together as equals to everyone else’s eyes. Michael had to work hard to make himself worthy of Mallory, and even then it was never enough. And the Coven would repay his efforts by murdering him. It was unbearable to live in a world where Kyle Spencer had everything he’d ever wanted, and Michael had nothing.

He didn’t even have to snap his fingers now, Michael would just roll his eyes back for a moment and Zoe’s body would be in flames. And not just any flames, that strange heatless fire of his, that could destroy souls as well as bodies, and in a few seconds Zoe was gone from this world and the next. Kyle lost his mind, screaming in fury from the deepest places of his own soul, he turned to charge on Lord Langdon. But with the slightest wave of one hand, Michael sent him flying against the nearest wall, and Kyle fell unconscious to the ground. Unconsciousness seemed to be enough for the time being. Killing Mr Spencer was not in his plans, at least not in his immediate plans. He wanted to enjoy the other’s desperation at the loss of his beloved one for a while. And he wanted to witness the moment when the so-called Protector of the Coven would find every single one of the witches under his care dead. Only then Michael would kill him.

Madison came rushing out of the Manor, half mad with pain. In the end, she felt for Zoe’s sudden demise, the same way Zoe had been inconsolable when Madison disappeared all those years before. She looked at her former master, furious tears running down her cheeks, but the cold look she found there was almost amused “Oh, Madison... I could pretend your betrayal is in any way a surprise, but that would be if I had ever trusted your loyalty to begin with.” Anger made Madison forget her fear of Lord Langdon for a moment “You stole me from my family, you made me your slave... you couldn’t expect me to simply stand aside while you murdered everyone I had ever cared about? Even you couldn’t be that stupid, Farm Boy...”, the last two words carried all her despise for the so-called Lord. “You have lived both your lives as the Coven’s little bitch. And now you’re gonna die like one.”, Michael snapped his fingers once and Madison’s head disappeared in a bloody explosion, like Lady Mead’s hounds’ had when he was a child.

Michael Langdon opened his arms, his eyes rolling back again, and what had been a clear sky was now heavy with dark clouds. And inside the Manor witches were dropping like flies all around. One by one, all the students in Lady Robichaux’s School were dying. The four women in the Parlour now - Lady Cordelia, Misty Day, Myrtle Snow and Mallory - were facing the massacre, horrified, not knowing what they could do to stop it. He wanted them to leave the Manor and face him. Michael’s revenge wasn’t simply about killing the witches, he wanted to drive them crazy with hopelessness and despair before the end. Lady Cordelia knew what she had to do, and she knew she had no choice. “Ladies, I love you more than my own life”, she reached out and held her beloved Misty’s hand, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to lead this Coven safely into the next Century.” And without giving the others a chance to respond, she walked out into the dark day. To face whatever fate, and Michael, had in store for her.

Lady Cordelia stepped out of the Manor looking every bit as regal and powerful as the Ladies of the Lake in the ancient times of Avalon. “So you decided to face me”, Michael was not impressed, “even though I know you can feel, as much as I can, that your powers are fading as the new Supreme rises.” It was true. Cordelia had been feeling it for months, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had hit a chord “I am not afraid of you, young man”. Michael chuckled, seeming positively amused now, “You should know this is pointless. Deep down you know I was always going to win, Lady Supreme.” Cordelia forced herself to smile back at him “Oh, but you haven’t. Darkness has only one son. But my sisters are a Legion!”, she took her silver cerimonial blade from her belt, and without taking her eyes from Michael’s she plunged the blade into her own heart in a sure movement. Time stood still for a moment, and even the raging storm that was gathering in the sky was silent. The only sound they could hear was Myrtle Snow’s heartbreaking cry, her sorrow at the loss of the darling girl she had raised weighting in the air.

“She performed the Sacred Taking”, Misty’s shock came out in a breathy whisper, unable to hold back her tears, “she sacrificed herself to give full power to the next Supreme. Why would she do that?”, shock was turning into heartbroken hysteria, “Why now? We don’t even know who the next Supreme is”. But they did. Mallory turned to look at the older witch, tears streaming down her own face as well, her eyes wide at the realisation. “Oh no, Mal. Don’t.”, Misty pulled Mallory to a desperate last embrace, “Don’t leave me here alone!!”. Mallory held tight to her dear mentor, feeling the surge of power in her bones, running through her veins like a lightning bolt. She knew this was how it had to be. That she was the only one who could face Michael Langdon as an equal. “It will all be alright, Misty”, she said in a soft voice and gently kissed her on the forehead. She walked out on poor, sobbing Misty and neither witch had ever felt more alone.

When Mallory found Michael, the ashes of what had been Myrtle Snow were still warm at his feet. With a wave of her hand, the dark clouds went away and the sun was shining on the moors again. For the first time since his return, Michael doubted himself, his purpose and his resolve, looking at Mallory. She was heartbroken, but still had all the power of the Goddess with her. She walked towards him, not without fear, and looked him in the eyes “How did we come to this, my love?”, she asked with all honesty. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Mal... you can still join me. The two of us will be more powerful than anything the world has ever seen...”, his words might have been full of authority, had his voice not betrayed the desperation in his soul.

None of them could simply raise a hand to hurt the other. The death of one would be the death of both. Michael understood that, even through all the years he had spent planning his revenge, there was a part of him that never stopped believing that Mallory would join him again, and that they would rule the new world he was creating side by side. Mallory, in her turn, was incapable of making herself believe that the Michael she had known and loved would do what this Lord Langdon was doing now. But the evidence was undeniably all around her, the Coven had been massacred. Only Misty Day was still alive inside the Manor, trying desperately to perform the Vitalum Vitalis on her fallen sisters, but all her powers had left her when Lady Cordelia died. She could no longer be the bringer of light in the Coven when the light of her life had been extinguished.

“I can’t let you do this, Michael, I’m not here for myself. I’m here for all the witches of the Avalon lineage. Everything depends on me, now...”, tears were rolling freely from her eyes, and Michael understood that Mallory’s stakes were simply higher than his own. She was fighting for something bigger than herself, others relied on her. She really did have a family she loved in the Coven and they loved her, while he had spent all his life gathering power and followers. In the end, he had never had any chance of ever being worthy of Mallory. “Then take this burden from me”, he held her hands while he pleaded, “set me free!”. When she understood the meaning of his request, she shook her head in panic “No, Michael, please! Don’t make me do this!”.

This would be his final act of love. Michael had been born from evil, and evil was the only thing he had known in his life... except for Mallory. She was the only thing that was good and pure, the only person who had ever truly loved him for himself, and in spite of his darkness. He couldn’t bestow that darkness upon her. Make her a murderess and send her into damnation. He kissed the hands he was holding, soft and slowly, before he reached inside his own chest, his eyes never leaving hers, and ripped his own heard out. He placed the bloody organ, still somehow stubbornly beating, on the palms of her hands, and his body fell lifeless to the ground at her feet, as she felt his last heartbeat fading in her hands. The heart she held burst into heatless flames, and was gone at the same time the light left his eyes.

Misty Day was brought outside by Mallory’s desperate cry, and found the girl cradling the body of her beloved one, the image of a dark Pietà, running blood-stained fingers through his golden locks and kissing the cold, lifeless lips, smudging his beautiful face with his own blood and her tears. The painful sight brought Misty to her knees, covering her face in her hands, listening to Mallory ramble in misery “I killed him, Misty... not with my own hands, but I killed him...”, in her despair, Mallory started talking to Michael’s corpse “I killed you... haunt me, then!! Be with me always... take any form... drive me mad!! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!! Oh, Goddess!! I cannot live without my life!! I cannot live without my soul!!”

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#American Horror Story #AHS Apocalypse #Michael Langdon #Mallory #Cody Fern #Billie Lourd #AHS Brontë AU #Wuthering Heights #MCA #Millory #Fanfiction #Whatever Souls Are Made Of

[boyslovebandito]

skam france: episode 7, samedi to mercredi

From samedi to mercredi Lucas has been telling people that Elliott doesn’t have feelings for him. Sure, one could bring up the drawings or that Elliott approached Lucas in the cafeteria as proof that Elliott does care, but that’s not going to convince our little hedgehog right now. 

But how did Lucas come to be so bitter?

Lucas has been closeted for years and has had crushes on straight guys, so he’s extremely cautious when it comes to his romantic feelings. When he saw Elliott for the first time, and especially when they made eye contact, he immediately felt attracted. At the bus station he bravely walked over to Elliott but it was Elliott that started the conversation. Elliott was being friendly and Lucas reciprocated, while making sure to play it cool. From then on Elliott was mostly initiating interactions while Lucas, still unsure if it was just talking or if Elliott was indeed flirting with him, timidly and cautiously flirted back. 

The night he went over to Elliott’s place for the beers he was more confident. His body language was more relaxed and he even played a song for Elliott! It finally felt like the start of something mutual to Lucas. However, as he left Elliott’s place he saw Elliott kiss his girlfriend Lucille. Strike One. All that confidence and excitement suddenly came crashing down. It seemed that Lucas had misread the signals, Elliott wasn’t interested in him in THAT way. He felt like a fool. Once again, he was alone.

The next week, Lucas doubled down on heterosexuality. When Elliott approached him about the scarf, Lucas hid that they knew each other. This served to 1) keep his lie about vendredi from his friends and 2) shut down a chance for Elliott to get closer to Lucas and his friends. Lucas now feels embarrassed about vendredi and tries to completely sweep it under the rug. Until the night of the Kiffance.

Elliott openly brought Lucille to the party. It was like rubbing Lucas’s stupidity in his own face. But later, the eye contact as each of them kissed another girl. That was not normal. Another spark. And then Elliott offered to walk Lucas home. A glimmer of hope? But Lucas was on his guard. He was back to playing it cool that whole conversation as they walked back to his place. It was then that Elliott made his big move: “Pas forcement one meuf d’ailleurs”. Not necessarily a girl. 

Oh the relief. He wasn’t making it all up in his head! It’s mutual. It’s reciprocated. It’s real. Lucas knew for sure that Elliott was interested in him and that Elliott was having serious doubts about his relationship to Lucille. 

The next day our brave Lucas, more confident than ever before, initiated contact with Elliott via text. Elliott wasn’t available, too bad, but it’s normal to have plans. That mercredi Lucas waited for Elliott, but Elliott ghosted him. Strike Two. Gone was any confidence Lucas had gained, so he retreated back to Chloe. 

However, Elliott approached Lucas to apologize in person, even mentioning beers, weed, and music- an inside reference to their time alone. Lucas couldn’t help but let out a small smile.

At their double date, Elliott was obviously upset about Chloe clinging to Lucas. Elliott fought with Lucille and choose to ditch his own girlfriend in favor of spending time alone with Lucas. The kiss. And the morning after. Lucas was in absolute bliss. It’s mutual. It’s reciprocated. It’s real.

Lucas woke up alone. And stayed that way for a few days. When he did meet up with Elliott again, Elliott told Lucas that Lucille knew about their affair. Lucas was worried that Elliott had regrets about their time together or that maybe Elliott was sad about his break up, that would possibly explain Elliott’s distance. But Elliott says he isn’t sad. Then he suddenly pulls away. Lucas doesn’t know why. Maybe because Elliott has told Lucille but Lucas hasn’t told anyone? 

After Lucas tells Mika, he immediately texts Elliott about it, trying to bridge the gap. But Elliott pulls away: “peut etre que ca va un peu vite pour moi”. Maybe it’s going too fast for me. 

Lucas was so disappointed. It seemed too good to be true. Then Chloe’s party. Two days after telling Lucas he split up with his girlfriend, there was Elliott, kissing Lucille. Strike Three. It’s not mutual. It’s not reciprocated. It’s not real.

Elliott has repeatedly shown interest in Lucas only to pull away. To call Elliott fickle would be an understatement. Lucas feels embarrassed, lied to, betrayed. He has been strung along time and time again. Every time he believes Elliott’s sincerity, he has been proven wrong. All those moments of happiness are now bitter.

Lucas sees Elliott’s advances as fake. To him, Elliott is a player trying to keep him as a sidepiece. Lucas truly believes he doesn’t mean anything to Elliott. Lucas has been through a roller coaster of emotions with Elliott and he doesn’t want to be taken for a fool anymore.

Lucas is at his rawest moment yet. So when Elliott approaches him at the cafeteria, he can’t play along and runs away. And when he sees the drawing in his pocket, it only serves to remind him of all the times Elliott has given him hope, just to immediately take it away. The drawing in his textbook? Just another play on his emotions. He’s not falling for it anymore. 

But he’s almost come to peace with it. He’s thinking about moving on from the heartbreak that is Elliott. They are not lovers. They aren’t in a couple. So when Yann and Chloe ask him about Elliott, he puts on a small smile as he says his truth, that there isn’t anything between them.  

#skam france #lucas lallemant #lucas x eliott #episode 7

[mattkeepsrambling]

Escape (Updated 1/23/19)

I'm working on adding a bit more detail here. I tell a lot of what happens to Clarke to get her to the point she is, but, as they say "show, don't tell." ********************************************************************* The smell of stale coffee radiated throughout the station from the stand in the corner and the dozen or so other passengers stood around either with their heads looking down at their phones or staring blankly at magazines and newspapers. Not Clarke though. Clarke stood, music playing on her headphones, lost in thought, eyes staring straight ahead, focusing on nothing and everything. Her time had come, she was finally going. Her bags were packed, and the bus to anywhere else was about to board. She was about to leave, for good, the city in which she had spent almost a decade. While that thought made her a little homesick already, she knew it was for the best. She may be leaving a place she loved; she was also leaving all the baggage it held. She was leaving a crappy job, a stagnant relationship and a city where everyone she knew had either moved away or moved on. She was leaving a job where she spent her days covering for and fixing the messes of her coworkers. It was a job where she was told to deal with problems without any help or backing from her supervisor who, by the way, was never in the office. She was leaving being overworked, under-appreciated and vastly underpaid. She knew she had settled for this job, but she had seen it as a stepping-stone for other opportunities that never seemed to materialize. She was leaving her thankless work and unsupportive higher-ups. When she had started, she had hoped it would lead to other opportunities within the company. She took the job because there was a genuine chance to move up the ranks and make a name for herself. Those opportunities never materialized, and those times when the spotlight should have been on her, it was stolen by others. She saw others with better connections get the promotions that were rightfully hers. Her supervisor promised that the next time something came up, she would be in serious contention, but her moment never came. One of the more incredible injustices was when a son-in-law of a board member got a job for which Clarke was immeasurably more qualified. When his incompetence almost cost the company one of its clients, Clarke got assigned to double-check and fix every mistake he made. She had become a glorified babysitter whose sole purpose was to make someone else look good. Although it was never explicitly said, they dangled the carrot of a promotion in front of her if she continued to help the company in this matter. She was, most importantly, also leaving a relationship where she was putting in more than she was getting out of it. She was tired of making big romantic gestures like homemade dinners or weekend getaways. She was tired of picking George up when he had "been out with the boys" and was too wasted to get home. She was tired of being chastised for spending time with her guy friends when he saw nothing wrong with the hours-long conversations he had with "just a girl from work." She needed to stop justify staying with him. They had met, like some a weird modern fairy tale, when they moved into the dorms during their freshman year of college. She was struggling with one of the boxes full of her stuff and he, like a Prince Charming in jorts and a backward baseball cap, swooped in and offered to help her. He helped her bring a couple of carloads to her room. "My name is George by the way," he said, holding out his hand. "Thank you for your help George, I'm Clarke," she responded, shaking his hand. "I'm only a few floors up on 6. Room 628, if you wanted to hang out later." "Yea, sure. I might have time to stop by once I get all this stuff unloaded," "I look forward to it, Clarke," he said as he walked out of the room. She spent the next few hours unloading and stashing away all her things. She was finishing up when her roommate came in and introduced herself. Her name was Rebecca. "Want to go grab some food from the Union?" she asked. "We can use it as a time to get to know each other more." "Yeah, let's go," Clarke said. They sat, ate and talked. Becky was from Kentucky and came to college up north because she was trying to get away from her family. About a year before her grandmother had died and some family members were left bitter by the amount left to them in the will. She had taken her share and put it into going to college. Clarke told her all about growing up in the suburbs and her ever-growing desire to move to a city. When she applied to colleges, she jumped at the chance to go to a place as unlike where she grew up as possible. They spent a long time talking and laughing, comparing stories and experiences. By the time they left, the Union was about to close, and as they headed back the dorm, she remembered the invitation from Geroge. She felt terrible, but she had only just met him and figured she would run into him eventually. The next few days were all about freshmen orientation. She and Becky went to the events together and further solidified their bond. She did see George a few times, but only from afar and never got the chance to say hi to him. After a whirlwind weekend, classes started. She walked into her English 100 class and, who should she see, but George. There he was in the third row with his head down doodling in his newly bought notebook. "So, you're an art major," she said with a laugh. He looked up and smiled when he saw her. "So I see you finally got all your stuff put away-took ya long enough." She felt herself blush. "Sorry about that. My roomie came in after you left and we went to get food together." "No problem. Here, sit here," he said moving the backpack on the chair next to him. Freshman year was a blur. New friendships, figuring out her major, being away from home and truly independent. It was a lot to adjust to, but she had Rebecca, her roommate to get her through it. They started spending a lot of time together as friends after that day. It was not until Sophmore year winter break that their relationship shifted. They would text back and forth over the break, and one night after their conversation, she found herself lying awake and all she could think of was him. It happened every night for the next week. When she returned to campus, she walked into his room to see him. He was just on his way out. "I was coming up to see you. I think we need to talk." They went into his room and sat on his bed. There was a long uncomfortable silence between them before George broke it. "I like you and, unless I am completely misreading this, you feel the same." Clarke felt herself start to smile, but he did not seem to notice as he was so focused on the words coming out of his mouth. "Do you want to go on a real date and see..." She didn't let him finish. "Of course, you dummy," she said, punching him in the arm for good measure. Then she planted a kiss on his cheek. She got up from the best and said, "How 'bout now?" He stood up and grabbed her hand as they walked to the dining hall for their first real date. Clarke fell in love, and she fell fast. She found herself mentally categorizing her time into "BF time" and "everything else." They became, according to their friends, "insufferably inseparable." A term they embraced whole-heartedly. He was a psych major and she a marketing major, so they didn't have classes together, but whenever possible, they would meet one another between classes and have a "mini-dates." They would grab a cup of coffee or find some secluded part of campus and talk or make out. Those "mini-dates" were the very essence of their first year together. As with most relationships, there were ups and downs, but what mattered was they always stayed together in the end. In hindsight, she could see when they started to grow apart. It was when, in their junior year of college, their quality time together began to dwindle. They still made time for romantic evenings out, but date nights started to consist of meeting friends at a bar to hang out and drink. Where they once would spend hours alone talking about nothing of importance to anyone but themselves, they now spent the evenings on the opposite side of a dirty booth at the bar while their friends shouted at each other over the drunken celebrations of the other patrons. They still made time for one another, but it was much more of an effort. Clarke set up real date nights, going to shows or cooking meals together. He planned weekend getaways and fancy dinners out. It was these things she focused on when they were in the same booth in the same loud bar with the same people. Now, a few years removed from graduation and the spell cast by the "college experience" had worn off. Where Clarke once was contemplating spending the rest of her life with him, she was now planning a life without him. She wanted to get away from the double standards and continually being made to feel like she was in the wrong. She wanted a life where taking care of herself, and her needs trumped making someone else feel needed. As much as she still loved the city, it just held too much heartbreak now. Its streets had become filled with sadness and reminded of her failures. She could barely turn a corner without being confronted with regrets, missed opportunities and unfulfilled promises. Even now as she wandered around the bus station sipping her coffee, she could see the building where she didn't get her dream job. It was not all bad; there were a lot of good memories too. A few blocks down from where she stood now was where she experienced the moment she fell in love with the city. It was her first summer here, and she had gotten a waitressing job downtown. She had worked the late shift and had helped to close. She stepped outside, exhausted from the busy shift and the city still felt alive. She saw a couple snuggled up on a bench next to the train tracks. The bars were humming with activity as patrons spilled into the patios. As she walked back to her apartment, she saw the audiences from concerts and plays file out and into the warm summer night. It was close to midnight, and there was still so much this place had to offer. It was then, at that moment, that she knew she never wanted to leave this city. But that seemed like such a long time ago. Sadness had infected all the joy and excitement the city once held. The fights she had gotten in with George, watching her dreams slip away and feeling like she was settling in all aspects of her life that had become all she saw as she walked the streets of her once beloved home now. All her good memories had become tainted by the overwhelming feelings of regret and grief. There was no inciting incident to her actions now, no preverbal "straw that broke the camel's back." It just happened. She had woken up one day and realized she needed to get away; to where she did not know. All she knew was that she needed not to be here anymore. In movies it seemed so simple, you get up and go, but this was not a movie: she had responsibilities: namely a lease that was not going to be up for three months. She could stick it out for three months. It was not easy. Once she got the idea to leave, it burrowed deep and stuck. It made her anxious and often irritable as she felt the need to get out only grow stronger. She channeled that energy into laying the groundwork for when she left. She made a list, picked a destination, started saving and for the first time in a long time, focused on the future. Things were going to get better; she just needed to prepare. And that is what she did. The first thing she did was she end things with George and kicked him out of her apartment. It felt like it lasted for hours when in reality it was mere minutes. "I'm leaving," she told him. It was a shitty opening line, but it got the ball rolling. "Going where" he responded. It was at that moment that she realized how vague she had been. It was too late to back off now; she was in it so she might as well do what needed to be done. "Away. From here. From this city: she said. "Why?" came his response. Clarke paused. She wished the words would come more natural, but she couldn't for a coherent thought. This was the first time she had said any of these thoughts out loud and her mind would not calm down. "...because...I just need a break," she told him. "From what?!" He was starting to shout, something she had heard more and more in the past few months. "From work," she began. She took a deep breath, and for the first time, she took her eyes of the stain on the living room carpet and looked George in the eye. "From you," she told him with all the conviction she could muster. For the first time in a long time, he was silent. "You had to have seen this coming. I mean, we have been in a funk for months. We go to the same shitty bar with the same shitty people..." "But you..." he started, but she was not going to let him interrupt her anymore. "It's okay now and then, but every single week...come on. I have tried my damndest to change things up, but you....you want things to stay the same. You seem content to coast through the remainder of our relationship. I have already made up my mind, and there is not much more for me to say. I'm quitting my job in the next few days. It is time to end whatever the hell this has become." She was done, but he wasn't. This was when the real screaming started. George went on for a while, but Clarke didn't pay attention to what he was saying. Her mind was made up, and she had to move on to the other preparations she needed to make. She was so deep in thought that she didn't realize he had stopped talking until he said, "Well...?" "What more do I need to say. This is what I am doing." "So just like that, you are going to throw away almost six years of our relationship because of a few lousy dates!?" She had stayed calm up to this point, but this last comment got to the heart of the matter. She felt her breath quicken as her chest heaved as she felt the mental dam break and all the anger she had felt since this conversation started could be held back no longer. "If you think that is what all this is about, you have NOT BEEN PAYING ATTENTION!! Those 'dates' are not the problem; they are a symptom of the problem. The problem is, and you might want to sit down for this news bulletin, THE WORLD DOESN'T REVOLVE AROUND YOU! I am done compromising MY sanity, MY happiness for someone who refuses to do the same for me. So, yea, we had some lousy dates, but the fact is I AM MISERABLE. The truth is I am 75 percent sure you are cheating on me with Chelsea, and the fact is I am 100 percent done with YOUR BULLSHIT!" She was done talking. She sat down on the couch as George hurled insult after insult at her. She refused to dignify anything he said with a response. He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. He started to stumble over his words as he saw that nothing he was saying was registering with her at all. When he had finally worn himself out, George took what few items he stored there and slammed the door as he left. It was after Clarke heard his car pull away from that she finally let herself breath again. It was the was the freest Clarke has felt in a very long time. She could focus on her wants her needs and not someone else's. It was the first step Clarke needed; It was just the morale boost necessary to get through the other hardship, her soul-sucking job. And she was going to need it. Clarke went to work and kept doing what she always had done: cover for everyone else. She kept her head down and did what she needed to do. Clarke just needed to bide her time until she was ready for it. Something told her there would be less cursing in that exchange. Then the moment came: the time to put in her two weeks notice. It was the happiest moment of her time there when she could finally tell her do-nothing boss that she quit. She had intended to say what she needed, exchange a few pleasantries, politely decline to do an exit interview and get out. But something happened when she finally said those words out loud she was leaving, something so simple that Clarke was surprised by how she reacted. He asked her why she was resigning. It was such a straightforward and harmless question, and for whatever reason she decided to tell him, to be brutally honest and tell him. What she felt as she let out all her gripes and anger could only be described as euphoric. She let out everything she has been holding in. With that cathartic release, she told him she was taking her paid time off, walked out and grabbed what few possessions she had. She was not going back. Now, at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, it was real. After months of planning, this was it. The announcement came over the PA, the bus was ready to board, and Clarke handed in her ticket. She stuffed her bag in the busses undercarriage compartment and got on. Clarke walked straight to the back and took a seat. She starred out the window at her city, or what once was hers. It wasn't hers any longer. The time had come to pass it on to another young dreamer who sees nothing but potential in the manic pace of the people, cars, trains, and busses. That was a feeling long ago lost to her, and now it was time to move on. She was lost in thought, recalling both good and bad memories when she was jolted back to reality by the bus' engine starting. As the bus pulled out and moved steadily away from over a decade of people and events, moments and memories, she could not help but smile. The bus got onto the highway, and the city disappeared in the morning fog, and just like that, she had escaped.

[mattkeepsrambling]

Escape (5/3/18)

The smell of stale coffee radiated throughout the station from the stand in the corner and the dozen or so other passengers stood around either with their heads looking down at their phones or staring blankly outside at the line of busses. Not Clarke though. Clarke stood, music playing on her headphones, lost in thought, eyes staring straight ahead, focusing on nothing and everything. Her time had come, she was finally going. Her bags were packed, and the bus to anywhere else was about to board. She was about to leave, for good, the city in which she had spent more than half her life. While that thought made her a little homesick already, she knew it was for the best. She may be leaving a place she loved; she was also leaving all the baggage it held. She was leaving a job where she spent her days covering for and fixing the messes of her coworkers. It was a job where she was told to deal with problems without any help or backing from her supervisor who, by the way, was never in the office. She was leaving being overworked, under-appreciated and vastly underpaid. She knew she had settled for this job, but she had seen it as a stepping-stone for other opportunities that never seemed to materialize. She was leaving her thankless work and unsupportive higher-ups. When she had started, she had hoped it would lead to other opportunities within the company. She took the job because there was a genuine chance to move up the ranks and make a name for herself. Those opportunities never materialized, and those times when the spotlight should have been on her, it was stolen by others. She saw others with better connections get the promotions that were rightfully hers. Her supervisor promised that the next time something came up, she would be in serious contention, but her moment never came. One of the more incredible injustices was when a son-in-law of a board member got a job for which Clarke was immeasurably more qualified. When his incompetence almost cost the company one of its clients, Clarke got assigned to double-check and fix every mistake he made. She had become a glorified babysitter whose sole purpose was to make someone else look good. Although it was never explicitly said, they dangled the carrot of a promotion in front of her if she continued to help the company in this matter. She was also leaving a relationship where she was putting in more than she was getting out of it. She was tired of making big romantic gestures like homemade dinners or weekend getaways. She was tired of picking George up when he had "been out with the boys" and was too wasted to get home. She was tired of being chastised for spending time with her guy friends when he saw nothing wrong with the hours-long conversations he had with "just a girl from work." She needed to stop justify staying with him. They had met, like some a weird modern fairy tale, when they moved into the dorms during their freshman year of college. She was struggling with one of the boxes full of her stuff and he, like a Prince Charming in jorts and a backward baseball cap, swooped in and offered to help her. They started spending a lot of time together as friends after that day. It was not until after winter break that their relationship shifted. They would text back and forth over the break, and one night after their conversation, she found herself lying awake and all she could think of was him. It happened every night for the next week. When she returned to campus, she walked into his room to see him. He was just on his way out. "I was coming up to see you. I think we need to talk." They went into his room and sat on his bed. There was a long uncomfortable silence between them before George broke it. "I like you and, unless I am completely misreading this, you feel the same." Clarke felt herself start to smile, but he did not seem to notice as he was so focused on the words coming out of his mouth. "Do you want to go on a real date and see..." She didn't let him finish. "Of course, you dummy," she said, punching him in the arm for good measure. Then she planted a kiss on his cheek. She got up from the best and said, "How 'bout now?" He stood up and grabbed her hand as they walked to the dining hall for their first real date. Clarke fell in love, and she fell fast. She found herself mentally categorizing her time into "BF time" and "everything else." They became, according to their friends, "insufferably inseparable." A term they embraced whole-heartedly. He was a psych major and she a marketing major, so they didn't have classes together, but whenever possible, they would meet one another between classes and have a "mini-date." They would grab a cup of coffee or find some secluded part of campus and talk or make out. Those "mini-dates" were the very essence of their first year together. As with most relationships, there were ups and downs, but what mattered was they always stayed together in the end. In hindsight, she could see when they started to grow apart. It was when, in their junior year of college, their quality time together began to dwindle. They still made time for romantic evenings out, but date nights started to consist of meeting friends at a bar to hang out and drink. Where they once would spend hours alone talking about nothing of importance to anyone but themselves, they now spent the evenings on the opposite side of a dirty booth at the bar while their friends shouted at each other over the drunken celebrations of the other patrons. They still made time for one another, but it was much more of an effort. Clarke set up real date nights, going to shows or cooking meals together. He planned weekend getaways and fancy dinners out. It was these things she focused on when they were in the same booth in the same loud bar with the same people. Now, less than a year removed from graduation and the spell cast by the "college experience" had worn off. Where Clarke once was contemplating spending the rest of her life with him, she was now planning a life without him. She wanted to get away from the double standards and continually being made to feel like she was in the wrong. She wanted a life where taking care of herself, and her needs trumped making someone else feel needed. As much as she still loved the city, it just held too much heartbreak now. Its streets had become filled with sadness and reminded of her failures. She could barely turn a corner without being confronted with regrets, missed opportunities and unfulfilled promises. Even now as she wandered around the bus station sipping her coffee, she could see the building where she didn't get her dream job. It was not all bad; there were a lot of good memories too. A few blocks down from where she stood now was where she experienced the moment she fell in love with the city. It was her first summer here, and she had gotten a waitressing job downtown. She had worked the late shift and had helped to close. She stepped outside, exhausted from the busy shift and the city still felt alive. She saw a couple snuggled up on a bench next to the train tracks. The bars were humming with activity as patrons spilled into the patios. As she walked back to her apartment, she saw the audiences from concerts and plays file out and into the warm summer night. It was close to midnight, and there was still so much this place had to offer. It was then, at that moment, that she knew she never wanted to leave this city. But that seemed like such a long time ago. Sadness had infected all the joy and excitement the city once held. The fights she had gotten in with George, watching her dreams slip away and feeling like she was settling in all aspects of her life that had become all she saw as she walked the streets of her once beloved home now. All her good memories had become tainted by the overwhelming feelings of regret and grief. There was no inciting incident to her actions now, no preverbal "straw that broke the camel's back." It just happened. She had woken up one day and realized she needed to get away; to where she did not know. All she knew was that she needed not to be here anymore. In movies it seemed so simple, you get up and go, but this was not a movie: she had responsibilities: namely a lease that was not going to be up for three months. It was just three months. She could stick it out for three months. It was not easy. Once she got the idea to leave, it burrowed deep and stuck. It made her anxious and often irritable as she felt the need to get out only grow stronger. She channeled that energy into laying the groundwork for when she left. She made a list, picked a destination, started saving and for the first time in a long time, focused on the future. Things were going to get better; she just needed to prepare. And that is what she did. The first thing she did was she end things with George and kicked him out of her apartment. It felt like it lasted for hours when in reality it was mere minutes. "I'm leaving," she told him. It was a shitty opening line, but it got the ball rolling. "Going where" he responded. It was at that moment that she realized how vague she had been. It was too late to back off now; she was in it so she might as well do what needed to be done. "Away. From here. From this city,: she said. "Why?" came his response. Clarke paused. She wished the words would come more natural, but she couldn't for a coherent thought. This was the first time she had said any of these thoughts out loud and her mind would not calm down. "...because...I just need a break," she told him. "From what?!" He was starting to shout, something she had heard more and more in the past few months. "From work," she began. She took a deep breath, and for the first time, she took her eyes of the stain on the living room carpet and looked George in the eye. "From you," she told him with all the conviction she could muster. For the first time in a long time, he was silent. "You had to have seen this coming. I mean, we have been in a funk for months. We go to the same shitty bar with the same shitty people..." "But you..." he started, but she was not going to let him interrupt her anymore. "It's okay now and then, but every single week...come on. I have tried my damndest to change things up, but you....you want things to stay the same. You seem content to coast through the remainder of our relationship. I have already made up my mind. There is not much more for me to say. I'm quitting my job in the next few days. It is time to end whatever the hell this has become." She was done, but he wasn't. This was when the real screaming started. George went on for a while, but Clarke didn't pay attention to what he was saying. Her mind was made up, and she had to move on to the other preparations she needed to make. She was so deep in thought that she didn't realize he had stopped talking until he said, "Well...?" "What more do I need to say. This is what I am doing." "So just like that, you are going to throw away almost six years of our relationship because of a few lousy dates!?" She had stayed calm up to this point, but this last comment got to the heart of the matter. She felt her breath quicken as her chest heaved as she felt the mental dam break and all the anger she had felt since this conversation started could be held back no longer. "If you think that is what all this is about, you have NOT BEEN PAYING ATTENTION!! Those 'dates' are not the problem; they are a symptom of the problem. The problem is, and you might want to sit down for this news bulletin, THE WORLD DOESN'T REVOLVE AROUND YOU! I am done compromising MY sanity, MY happiness for someone who refuses to do the same for me. So, yea, we had some lousy dates, but the fact is I AM MISERABLE. The fact is I am 75 percent sure you are cheating on me with Chelsea and the fact is I am 100 percent done with YOUR BULLSHIT!" She was done talking. She sat down on the couch as George hurled insult after insult at her. She refused to dignify anything he said with a response. He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. He started to stumble over his words as he saw that nothing he was saying was registering with her at all. When he had finally worn himself out, George took what few items he stored there and slammed the door as he left. It was only after Clarke heard his car pull away from that she finally let herself breath again. It was the was the freest Clarke has felt in a very long time. She could focus on her wants her needs and not someone else's. It was the first step Clarke needed; It was just the morale boost necessary to get through the other hardship, her soul-sucking job. And she was going to need it. Clarke went to work and kept doing what she always had done: cover for everyone else. She kept her head down and did what she needed to do. Clarke just needed to bide her time until she was ready for it. Something told her there would be less cursing in that exchange. Then the moment came: the time to put in her two weeks notice. It was the happiest moment of her time there when she could finally tell her do-nothing boss that she quit. She had intended to say what she needed, exchange a few pleasantries, politely decline to do an exit interview and get out. But something happened when she finally said those words out loud she was leaving, something so simple that Clarke was surprised by how she reacted. He asked her why she was resigning. It was such a straightforward and harmless question, and for whatever reason she decided to tell him, to be brutally honest and tell him. What she felt as she let out all her gripes and anger could only be described as euphoric. She let out everything she has been holding in. With that cathartic release, she told him she was taking her paid time off, walked out and grabbed what few possessions she had. She was not going back. Now, at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, it was real. After months of planning, this was it. The announcement came over the PA, the bus was ready to board, and Clarke handed in her ticket. She stuffed her bag in the busses undercarriage compartment and got on. Clarke walked straight to the back and took a seat. She starred out the window at her city, or what once was hers. It wasn't hers any longer. The time had come to pass it on to another young dreamer who sees nothing but potential in the manic pace of the people, cars, trains, and busses. That was a feeling long ago lost to her, and now it was time to move on. She was lost in thought, recalling both good and bad memories when she was jolted back to reality by the bus' engine starting. As the bus pulled out and moved steadily away from over a decade of people and events, moments and memories, she could not help but smile. The bus got onto the highway, and the city disappeared in the morning fog, and just like that, she had escaped.

[mattkeepsrambling]

Escape (Updated 8/19/17)

The smell of stale coffee radiated throughout the station from the stand in the corner and the dozen or so other passengers stood around either with their heads looking down at their phones or staring blankly outside at the line of busses. Not Clarke though. Clarke stood, music playing in her headphones, lost in thought, eyes staring straight ahead, focusing on nothing and everything. Her time had come, she was finally going to escape. Her bags were packed, and the bus to anywhere else was about to board. She was about to leave, for good, the city in which she had spent more than half her life. While that thought made her a little homesick already, she knew it was for the best. She maybe leaving a place she loved, she was also leaving all the baggage it held. She was leaving a job where she spent her days covering for and fixing the messes of her coworkers. It was a job where she was told to deal with problems without any help or backing from her supervisor who, by the way, was never in the office. She was leaving being overworked, under appreciated and vastly underpaid. She knew she had settled for this job, but she had seen it as a stepping-stone for other opportunities that never seemed to materialize. She was leaving her thankless work and unsupportive higher-ups. When she had started, she had hoped it would lead to other opportunities within the company. She took the job because there was a genuine chance to move up the ranks and make a name for herself. Those opportunities never materialized, and those times when the spotlight should have been on her, it was stolen by others. She saw others with better connections get the promotions that were rightfully hers. Her supervisor promised that the next time something came up, she would be in serious contention, but her moment never came. One of the more incredible injustices was when a son-in-law of a board member got a job for which Clarke was vastly more qualified. When his incompetence almost cost the company one of its clients, Clarke got assigned to double check and fix every mistake he made. She had become a glorified babysitter whose sole purpose was to make someone else look good. Although it was never explicitly said, they dangled the carrot of a promotion in front of her if she continued to help the company in this matter. She was also leaving a relationship where she was putting more in than she was getting out of it. She was tired of making big romantic gestures like homemade dinners or weekend getaways. She was tired of picking George up when he had "been out with the boys" and was too wasted to get home. She was tired of being chastised for spending time with her guy friends when he saw nothing wrong with the hours long conversations he had with "just a girl from work." She needed to stop justify staying with him. They had met, like some a weird modern fairy tale, when they moved into the dorms during their freshman year of college. She was struggling with one of the boxes full of her stuff and he, like a Prince Charming in jorts and a backward baseball cap, swooped in and offered to help her. They started spending a lot of time together as friends after that day. It was not until after winter break that their relationship shifted. They would text back and forth over the break, and one night after their conversation, she found herself lying awake and all she could think of was him. It happened every night for the next week. When she returned to campus, she walked to his room to see him. He was just on his way out. "I was coming up to see you. I think we need to talk." They went into his room and sat on his bed. There was as long uncomfortable silence between them before George broke it. "I like you and, unless I am completely misreading this, you feel the same." Clarke felt herself start to smile, but he did not seem to notice as he was so focused on the words coming out of his mouth. "Do you want to go on a real date and see..." She didn't let him finish. "Of course, you dummy," she said, punching him in the arm for good measure. Then she planted a kiss on his cheek. She got up from the best and said, "How 'bout now?" He stood up and grabbed her hand as they walked to the dining hall for their first real date. Clarke fell in love, and she fell fast. She found herself mentally categorizing her time into "BF time" and "everything else." They became, according to their friends, "insufferably inseparable." A term they embraced whole-heartedly. He was a psych major and she a marketing major, so they didn't have classes together, but whenever possible, they would meet one another between classes and have a "mini-date." They would grab a cup of coffee or find some secluded part of campus and talk or make out. Those "mini-dates" were the very essence of their first year together. As with most relationships, there were ups and downs, but what mattered was they always stayed together in the end. In hindsight, she could see when they started to grow apart. It was when, in their junior year of college, their quality time together began to dwindle. They still made time for romantic evenings out, but date nights started to consist of meeting friends at a bar to hang out and drink. Where they once would spend hours alone talking about everything or nothing, they now spent the evenings on the opposite side of a dirty booth at the bar while their friends shouted at each other over the drunken revelries of the other patrons. The still made time for one another, but it was much more of an effort. Clarke set up real date nights, going to shows or cooking meals together. He planned weekend getaways and fancy dinners out. It was these things she focused on when they were in the same booth in the same loud bar with the same people. Now, less that a year removed from graduation and the spell cast by the "college experience" had worn off. Where Clarke once was contemplating spending the rest of her life with him, she was now planning a life without him. It was going to be a life away from the double standards and continually being made to feel like she was in the wrong. A life where taking care of herself and her needs trumped making someone else feel needed. As much as she still loved the city, it just held too much heartbreak now. Its streets had become filled with sadness and reminded of her failures. She could barely turn a corner without being confronted with regrets, missed opportunities and unfulfilled promises. Even now as she wondered around the bus station sipping her coffee, she could see the building where she didn't get her dream job. It was not all bad; there were a lot of good memories too. A few blocks down from where she stood now was where she the moment she fell in love with the city. It was her first summer here, and she had gotten a waitressing job downtown. She had worked the late shift and had helped to close. She stepped outside, exhausted from the busy shift and the city still felt alive. She saw a couple snuggled up on a bench next to the train tracks. The bars were humming with activity as patrons spilled into the patios. As she walked back to her apartment, she saw the audiences from concerts and plays file out and into the warm summer night. It was close to midnight, and there was still so much this place had to offer. It was then, at that moment, that she knew she never wanted to leave this place. But that seemed like such a long time ago. Sadness had infected all the joy and excitement the city once held. The fights she had gotten in with George, watching her dreams slip away and feeling like she was settling in all aspects of her life that had become all she saw as she walked the streets of her once beloved home now. All her good memories had become tainted by the overwhelming feelings of regret and grief. There was no inciting incident to her actions now, no preverbal "straw that broke the camel's back." It just happened. She had woken up one day and realized she needed to escape. Escape to where she did not know. All she knew was that she needed not to be here anymore. In movies it seemed so easy, you just get up and go, but this was not a movie: she had responsibilities: namely a lease that was not going to be up for three months. It was just three months. She could stick it out for three months. It was not easy. Once she got the idea to escape, it burrowed deep and stuck. It made her anxious and often irritable as she felt the need to get out and grow stronger. She channeled that energy into laying the groundwork for when she left. She made a list, picked a destination, started saving and for the first time in a long time, focused on the future. Things were going to get better; she just needed to prepare. And that is what she did. The first thing she did was she end things with George and kicked him out of her apartment. They got in one more screaming match with him doing his best to guilt her out of it: how dare she throw away the last six years of their relationship over nothing. She stood her ground, and in the end, she won. He took what few items he stored there and left. It was the freest she has felt in a very long time. She could finally breathe and focus on her wants, her needs and not someone else's. It was just the morale boost she needed to get through the other hardship, her soul-sucking job. And she was going to need it. She went to work and kept doing what she always had done: cover for everyone else. She kept her head down and did what she needed to do. Then the moment came: the time to put in her two weeks notice. It was the happiest moment of her time there when she could finally tell her do-nothing boss that she quit. She had intended just to say what she needed, exchange a few pleasantries, politely decline to do an exit interview and get out. But something happened when she finally said those words out loud she was leaving, something so simple that Clarke was surprised by how she reacted. He asked her why she was leaving. It was such a straightforward and harmless question, and for whatever reason she decided to tell him, to be brutally honest and tell him. What she felt as she let out all her gripes and anger could only be described as euphoric. She let out everything she has been holding in. With that cathartic release, she told him she was taking her paid time off, walked out and grabbed what few possessions she had. She was not going back. Now, at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, it was real. After months of planning, this was it. The announcement came over the PA, the bus was ready to board, and Clarke handed in her ticket. She stuffed her bag in the busses undercarriage compartment and got on. Clarke walked straight to the back and took a seat. She stared out the window at her city, or what once was hers. It wasn't hers any longer. The time had come to pass it on to another young dreamer who sees nothing but potential in the manic pace of the people, cars, trains, and busses. That was a feeling long ago lost to her, and now it was time to move on. She was lost in thought, recalling both good and bad memories when she was jolted back to reality by the bus' engine starting. As the bus pulled out and moved steadily away from over a decade of people and events, moments and memories, she could not help but smile. The bus got onto the highway, and the city disappeared in the morning fog, and just like that, she had escaped.

#fiction #escape