1. RUNNING FROM MISERY

Trickles of ice cold water seared my trembling skin, biting my flesh with its ruthless assault. Reminding me that I'm not alone...I'm never alone. Counting the wall of small blue tiles—fitted in a pathetic attempt to replicate a mosaic of the ocean—I systematically went through my familiar motions to ward off yet another panic attack. Curling into myself, I breathed heavily against my bare knees. After having spent several nights in cheap motels, I began to notice the subtle details that gifted each patron with an eerily depressing atmosphere.

The tasteless bulk-buy mints staged on every eggshell coloured pillow. Mini fridge's dwindling in over priced hard liquor. Old Cathode ray tube television sets decorated with hideous doilies, distracting us from the half a dozen channels playing B grade black and white films. Dingy showers with low water pressure set to only one temperature, negative zero degrees. Two flickering lightbulbs—one glimmer away from giving out—lighting the shoebox they call a deluxe room. At least they're consistent.

Fuck, even death would shy away from this place.

The rapid pounding of my heartbeat against the confines of my ribcage slowly began to calm, my laboured breaths falling into a familiar rhythm. Sweeping my tongue along the several droplets of water dribbling from my lips I shakily staggered to my feet. My limbs were achingly stiff from the near paralytic nightmares that kept me caged within the horrors of my past. Fisting the slimy shower curtain, I yanked it back. Stepping over the small bathtub's soap scummed rim I stared at my reflection in the stained mirror above the tiny basin.

'You want this, stop fighting me-you want this!'

Curling my fingers around the basin's edges, I glared at my reflection. The sound of Mr Hale's growl rang in my ears, mocking me, taunting me...reminding me; he's always here.

'Fucking bitch...you little cock tease...'

Wincing from the memories clawing to the surface of my mind, I gripped the cool porcelain harder. I was losing the fight to suppress them...I was surrendering, again.

'I'm always here...'

Feeling the sharp jabs of his index finger against my temple I abruptly shoved away from the basin. Slamming shut the the doors in my mind, leading to pure darkness, I snapped back to reality just barely saving my sanity. "Gia?" Macy's sleepy rasp echoed through the thin door I'd haphazardly pushed ajar two hours ago. Stripping out of my drenched singlet and night shorts I wrapped the small towel, hanging from the lopsided drying rack bolted to the wall, around my shivering torso. Pulling the door back I padded across the floor—covered with a rough industrial brand carpet—to the slab of concrete they had the portentous audacity to call a bed. "Did you get any sleep?" She asked gently, lowering the bedsheets as she brushed her finger through her sleep tussled hair.

"No." I managed to choke out a reply, swallowing past the lump in my throat, the aftershock of my nightmares always left me feeling reserved, closed off...miserable. Macy had become well accustomed to the signs and understood not to push for anymore.

"Let's hit the road early today, I'm feeling this motel about as much as the last four." Shuddering dramatically she pushed out of bed to crouch in front of one of the smaller suitcases she'd insisted on bringing with us. Dragging the zipper open noisily she pulled out a fresh set of clothes and her flamboyant toiletry bag. "The shower any warmer in this one?" Shaking my head, no, I dug through my duffle bag. "That's cool, it's not like I've been having fantasies about steaming hot showers or anything." She groaned shuffling into the cubicle that encased both the toilet and bathroom. "Fuck..." She grumbled. Based on the faucet's ungodly squeaking, that preceded her cursing, I assumed she'd discovered the disturbingly low water pressure in this dilapidated shit hole.

Linking together the three metal hooks on my plain maroon bra, I slid a pair of plain black panties up my thighs. Stepping into a pair of distressed, washed blue skinnies I pulled a grey, long-sleeved cotton shirt over my head. Yanking my arms through the maroon sleeves I took a seat on the lumpy edge of the mattress. Rolling my sock over my toes, I slipped each of my feet into a pair of warn Converse sneakers. "I swear motels are where souls go to die!" Macy hissed tossing her damp towel into a dark corner of the room. Unclipping her long hair, she skilfully brushed her fingers through each silky strand. "Ready?" She huffed, perching her hands on her narrow waist.

"Yeah, lets go." Zipping up my bag, I pulled the double straps over my shoulder. Packing up her suitcase, Macy dragged the wheeled bag behind us as we left the seedy room- bedsheets frighteningly as strewn as we'd found them. Walking down the row of half-a-dozen beat up cars and pick-up trucks I sidled up to my utility vehicle or ute. The second-hand repair yard I'd found it at had mentioned it was favoured in Australia.

"Hand the keys over babe. You haven't slept in days." Macy pointed out, her tone left no room for argument. Dropping the keys into her extended palm I circled around the front and climbed through the passenger side door. Hauling my duffle bag into the back, I slumped against the threadbare leather seat and sighed heavily. Lifting her bag into the back she jumped in and smiled brightly. Keying the ignition, she strapped on her seatbelt as she reversed. Macy's near miss with a battered Mazda, as we drove out of the complex, didn't even enlist a blink from either of us—I doubted any new dints or scratches would go noticed by the owner either way.

Heading towards the highway I made an effort to contribute to the conversation we were having. At times my attention faltered and I found myself studying the blur of cars speeding past us on the lanes to my right. Drawing my knees close to my chest I considered how far we were from what I'd always know as home, East LA was a blur almost like the vehicles whizzing past...unfortunately the hellish memories remained fresh and imprinted in my brain like a stain, a branding that owned me. We'd been on the road for five days, stopping at shabby motels to sleep and shower. I could no longer deny that this was exactly what it looked like, running, I was running. From my past, my mistakes, my fears...and the evil I'd let into my life.

"I haven't seen Joey in forever, God I miss him." She sighed.  "Seeing each other every six months is torture..." She whined. It still astounded me to no end that Macy and Joey had made it this long, despite the distance. Relationships are hard enough without the added obstacles they'd faced. "I can't believe he has his own place now." She was beaming and that managed to bring a genuine smile to my lips. I was happy for her, for them. "Okay so he shares it with his cousin but that doesn't count." Chuckling softly at her clarification I tilted my head to face her.

"I don't know about this, Mace...I mean won't it be weird shacking up with your boyfriend and his cousin?" Toying nervously with with my tattered shoe lace as it came loose, I debated the potential for how uncomfortable things could get. Joey and I had gotten along fine on the two separate occasions we'd met, but this cousin of his...was a stranger to me. Nightmares, panic attacks and paranoid tendencies aside, I'd never met the man. That alone would be probable cause for apprehension. "This is kind of a big step in your relationship...I don't want to fuck this up for you, again." Cringing at even the thought of keeping Joey and Macy apart any longer I internally punished my own naivety, the afflictions of my past had forced her to choose between her loyalties as my best-friend and commitment to the love of her life.

"Stop, Gia. Joey knows you're heading out with me. He offered before I even had the chance to make my demands." Swooning, she grinned. "He know's I'm not about to move to a new city to shack up with my boyfriend when my best-friend needs me." Lifting one hand from the faded leather of my steering wheel, she theatrically flicked her strawberry blonde curls over her shoulder before holding out her pinkie and wiggling it about. "I have that man wrapped around this perfectly manicured little finger of mine..." She sang with a pitch to her voice that amplified the trophy wife persona she often enjoyed mocking.

Macy was basically that perfect mix of girly-girly and sophisticated independent woman that drove guys crazy. She was breathtaking on a bad day and something else all together when she put in effort. Her beauty was both every man's best dream and worst nightmare. Headstrong, stubborn and sexy. The only thing that shocked me more than the prevalence of their relationship was how Joey had survived my best-friend.

"It feels like I'm intruding..." Trailing off into silence, I returned my focus to the shoe lace tautly wrapped around my finger.

"Babe, it's just till you get sorted." Pouting she gave me a pointed look. "Besides, we both know as soon as a room opens up in the dorms, you'll ditch me." Glaring at me quickly she returned her attention to the four-wheeler cutting lanes as though it were an Olympic sport. Tensing I eyed it carefully, it looked familiar. "It's only fair that you make up for your neglect of my sensitive emotions by spending as much time as humanly possible with me." Sighing her eyes flicked to mine briefly before pinning the four-wheeler again. "I'm going to hate not living two doors down from you." She admitted, tears welling in her pale green eyes.

Pouting as we fell back into a comfortable silence, she swiftly merged between the two furthest lanes, leaving the asshole in the four-wheeler in a cloud of pollution—informing me that a tune up was long overdue. Resting my temple against the cool glass window, I closed my eyes, resolving to idle between napping and taking in the "scenic" ambiance of the highway. My brain's reluctance to subdue the constant torment my life had been for the past year kept me in a continuous state of mental and physical lassitude.

Because sleep, came plagued by the debilitating memories— that I had no doubt would haunt me till the day I die—of Mr Hale's endless abuse. And consciousness, brought the striking horror of the possibility that he will find me again.

Jerking awake, I glanced at the empty seat beside me. The distinct stench of petroleum drifted into the vehicle, awakening my senses further. "We almost there?" I croaked unattractively as Macy climbed back into the ute carrying a bag full of snacks.

"Almost, we're about thirty minutes out." She explained, planting the bag in my lap. Nodding, I scrounged around in the bag for ice cream. Frowning I turned back to face my best friend who should have, by now, known that my idea of a road-trip snack is a tub of ice cream. "Their fridge was broken so that shit melted hours ago." Glaring at her skeptically I fell back into my seat. "I'm serious." Rolling my eyes, I glanced at the side mirror.

Macy's phone rang loud enough to be an alarm, pulling it out of her front pocket she held the small device between her ear and shoulder. Pulling the car into one of the three lots beside the air pumps she exhaled, clearly exasperated. "I'm good daddy, we just stopped to get some petrol." Closing her eyes frustratedly, she toyed with the ends of her hair. "Yes we're being safe, we've taken enough rests." Macy found her father's overbearing fussing a nuisance, I on the other hand couldn't help but find it comforting. You appreciate the love and care a parent has for their child when you grow up never having experienced the same from your own.

Smiling warmly at the rapid fire questions, Mr Taylor was no doubt worriedly, sending her way I lent my attention to my side mirror once more. I watched as a frumpy woman hooked the petrol hose back into its port before wobbling around her Toyota Corolla and towards the small kiosk type shop. "God, it's like I'll be five for the rest of my life!" Macy groaned tossing her phone into the glovebox rather roughly.

"Mace, your parents just love you like crazy. They've watched over you for nineteen years...there's going to be an adjustment period, especially with their baby girl moving across the country to live with her boyfriend." I tried to explain, wishing she could see the love I could in their concern. "Shit, I can't even believe they're letting you do this." Nibbling her lower lip she fluttered her eyelashes innocently in my direction.

Tensing I lowered my feet from the ratty upholstery, of my seat, in order to better read the guilty expression on her face. I could have sworn that I felt my heart drop. "Your parents did agree to this...right?" I just barely rasped, unable to swallow away the dryness in my mouth. Panic dawned on me as she tilted her head to give me a lopsided grin. "Mace..." I warned. Combing my fingers through my hair, I leaned forward so that I could breathe. "This is the part where you say; of course I told my over protective parents about my plans to move across the country and live with my boyfriend, Gia."

"Well...sort of-" glaring at her, I shook my head. "-you know my father, Gia. He'd chain me to the goddamn house if he found out I'm moving in with Joey!" She quickly defended, gripping at the steering tighter than necessary.

"Mace." I scolded, suddenly more reserved about our decision to move out here.

"My father is dramatic about everything." She groaned. "He practically dismissed what we have for a one time fling. He point blank said that I'm not in love and Joey just wants to defile me, since nobody can "fall in love" within a week-" I could see her gearing up to go on the defensive and swiftly cut her short before she could emotionally sway me.

"He's not wrong, Mace! We don't even know for sure what he was doing in East LA." Violently unclipping my seatbelt I moved to shove open the door.

"He was there for his cousin; Rayne was working the LA circuit, you know this! I don't need a lecture from you too!" Pulling on my arm she gave my steering wheel a short break from her assault, before returning her lean fingers to wring the groaning leather. With a sigh, she looked dead ahead. "It's hard to explain...when you feel it, when you find him...you just know, Gia." Smiling softly she wore a unique glow exclusively reserved for when she thought about Joey.

Squeezing her shoulder I reassured her with my eyes that I would see this through no matter what. Macy had supported me through the darkest moments of my life, at a time when I would have willingly embraced death in order to escape the horrors of my reality. I owed her this. Softening at that she gave my poor steering wheel the reprieve that it was in desperate need of. "You have to tell them eventually." I offered. Nodding, she started the engine—excited once more. Smiling with her I leaned back into my seat, my eyes drifting to the side mirror yet again. Stiffening as the image of a familiar vehicle, pulling into the petrol pump where the Toyota Corolla had moments earlier been, filled the small glass mirror attached to my door. "The four-wheeler..." I breathed, feeling the fine hairs along the base of my neck spike and my skin crawl. My subconscious reprimanded my foolish decision to rest and failure to stay alert.

How did he find me? Had he been following me all along...lurking in the shadows and biding his time till I let my guard down again? He was playing another game—he hadn't fled, he'd simply camouflaged his existence—waiting till he had me at a disadvantage. My heart hammered against my ribcage...screaming for me to hide. Glancing around frantically I panicked.

Too many windows... He can see me!

There's nowhere to hide.

___________________

Target audience: Intended for a mature audience, above eighteen as the content includes; coarse language, sexual references, drug and alcohol use, abuse and violence.

Bio: My sister introduced me to the inspirations behind many of my favourite movies, close to three years ago— since I've been reading anything I can get my hands on. Around this time I found my way onto a popular writing platform where readers and writers can connect—Wattpad. Trying my hand at writing I found people are asking for more.

Platforms: Wattpad, Radish Fiction and Prose.

Education: Having completed my primary and secondary schooling in Australia, I'm now on my final year of a Bachelor of Arts— majoring in criminal justice and Italian— before I complete my graduate diploma in education.

Experience: Payed experience includes Radish Fiction and recently the Wattpad Futures program.

Personality/ writing style: My readers love me for my sass and sarcasm. I'm quite headstrong and my female leads often depict this quality with their spitfire attitudes and stubborn nature. My writing style varies depending on the book and characters, I prefer first person, past tense when it comes to romance dominant novels but often turn to third person for more complex plot lines.

Hobbies/ likes: As far as hobbies go I'm not too adventurous, I've spent most of my university experience studying and working. I would say karaoke qualifies as a hobby, as does dancing— I excel at neither. I enjoy playing hockey, netball, basketball and touch...but only to discredit accusations of being a couch potato.

Location: Brisbane, Australia.

1. THE NAKED BLONDE

This was really happening, we were finally here. New York—concrete jungle and all that—I could feel it, the energy crackling around us. It was exhilarating to simply stand amongst it. Swarms of strangers rushed along the chockablock streets; hailing taxis, crossing roads and dodging traffic. I couldn't see myself keeping up with their practiced pace of daily commute. Scaling the city's skyline I allowed my eyes to once again linger on our new apartment building.

The building itself stood twenty floors high, with massive crystalline window panels lining the exterior. Suggesting both architectural and design brilliance throughout. The interior dripped with modern sleek and elegance. From the signature charm that lingered on every subtle detail, I knew this was another one of Mr Quinn's masterpieces. Whether it was classical or modern and with the times, the man could capture perfection and trap it within the solidified walls of a building.

"Bean! Hello. Earth to Bean, wanna give me a hand with the doors? Charlie!" Blake's impatient nudging, against my ribcage, snapped me from my intense admiration of our new home. The bastard had at some point designated to superintend our first big move into adulthood. Smiling in awe I returned to reality, opening one of two large glass doors and bracing it with my backside, I awkwardly sank low enough to retrieve one of the boxes labeled BLAKE'S SHIT up off the pavement. All in all Blake and I were well mannered—brought up with admirable Campbell morals—however, on the odd occasion, we often forgot or rather stowed our grace and resorted to bluntness.

"Well if you would have spared at least the doorman, when rounding up the entire building's staff to help us move in, then you'd have someone to get the door for you; your highness." I pointed out, accompanied by a half-arsed curtsy.

"Did I give you permission to address me peasant? Lower your eyes and beg for forgiveness, I may consider overlooking this insolence." Chuckling, I struggled to bow a second time with the load cradled in my arms. "Much better." He huffed in an exaggerated, wealthy tone. Snorting out a mock laugh, he rolled his baby blue eyes, then proceeded to march into the lobby. Shaking my head with amusement, I rearranged the box in my small arms.

I'd first met Blake in first grade, elementary school. We'd been planting bean plants in class, Mrs Craft had partitioned for our early introduction to acquiring a green thumb, I unfortunately couldn't seem to adopt the natural skills required to plant beans. Watching my classmates' bean plants sprout, on the day we were to unveil them to other classes, when mine remained a terracotta pot filled with dirt and bean pips I began to cry. Full blown tears. Blake had first noticed me then, coming to my rescue he tore a piece of paper out of his sketch book and proceeded to write both our names on it. Sticking the tag he'd crafted with bright crayons on the front of his pot, he dragged me to his table as students made their rounds.

My best friend, my big brother...my family. Blake and the Campbell's were my second chance at life. I saw no difference between them and my late parents, nor would I ever regard them as anything less. Allowing the door to swing shut, I fluidly stepped into the building and made my way across the white-veined marble floors, elbowing the call button for the elevator I awaited the carts descent. Blake's parents had bought him one of two apartments on the twentieth floor, as a graduation present, their crazy way of congratulating him on his achievements. Deep down I was positive this was Beth and Richi's way of giving us both a present. They were always careful about offending me when it came to support, financially. I knew it made them uncomfortable whenever I refused their extravagant gifts, but it never felt right to take advantage of their generosity.

Initially Blake wasn't all that keen on leaving Seattle; if it hadn't of been for my callback from Quinn Industries Inc—an internationally renowned enterprise that holds impressive stakes in countless luxury and recreational industries—he'd have refused the gift outright and rallied for a new gallery back home. Applying for the internship at Quinn Industries had been a long shot, I wasn't interested in the shares the company held in luxury hotels and high end night clubs globally, but rather the architectural design side of things. To work with some of the biggest names and talent, that was my dream. To tell my story through the art of design and construction, to build something lasting. From a young age I'd found myself seeking a home, a place to forget the pain of my loss and in doing so I found a purpose. A passion that fuels my goals.

Someday, I'd design the perfect home...for those without one. Not just the four walls crafted from plaster and brick but a place that gives children like me a second chance. Every room will welcome their innocent memories, the warmth protecting them and promising to keep away the soul sucking loneliness the world has shackled them with. Somewhere anyone can belong.

Subconsciously I'd stepped into an empty elevator cart, the smooth copper doors slid shut allowing me to inspect my melancholy features. Propping the box up with one knee, I trapped it between my side and the bronze metal bar attached waist high to the right hand side of the elevator wall. Hastily wiping away several stray tears I prayed my eyes weren't a tell tale red; ruining this step in our lives for either Blake or myself was in a way selfish. We'd left a lot behind in Seattle, good and bad...it was time to begin this new chapter in our lives.

Blake had made an effort to change his outlook on our relocation to New York and if I wasn't mistake, he was now more excited than I had been. He'd bought a small gallery about fifteen minutes away from the apartment where he plans on showcasing his artwork. He has yet to hear back from the New York Academy of Arts, where he'd applied for a teaching position. Art was his passion and he would continue to make it regardless of ever breaking into the big times, teaching was a way to step into the world of professionals and still be surrounded by what he loved.

I was still trying to wrap my head around that one. Blake was a straight forward, no bullshit type of guy—granted he was the smartest guy I knew—I mean prefect GPA, high achieving kind of smart; but both his patience and focus left a lot to be desired. The elevator's ping drew my attention, prompting the juggling act it was to adjust the heavy box in my arms. As I exited the spacious cart I bit back a string of curses, blocking my path was a box Blake had carelessly left there. Bending slightly I read the thick penned label on the side. "Mother fucker..." I seethed.

Before I could even straighten I was knocked on my arse by what had to have been a goddamn linebacker, crashing to the floor I cursed loudly. "Fuck! Watch it!" My enraged fist pump was cut short by the image of a butt naked, blonde bombshell—hysterically jabbing at the elevator button. My mouth hung agape as the stunning goddess hurdled into the cart, frantically wiping at her tear stained cheeks; tugging on a long white business shirt. Shoving my astonishment, at the slender woman's strength, aside I shook my head. I felt for her and loathed the bastard who'd ruthlessly played with her emotions, simultaneously.

Lightly caressing my throbbing arse, I scowled at the closing copper doors—marking her dramatic exit. Heartbroken or not, the woman had wounded my tender cheeks and that was inexcusable. Blowing the several strands of escaping hair out of my eyes, I winced.

"You alright?" The warm lashes of a husky voice kissed at the exposed base of my neck, shuddering at the deep sensuality that chased away the silence I closed my eyes. My skin heated as a large strong hand wrapped around my arm, above the elbow. Opening my eyes I watched a second hand lower— hovering in front of me—accepting his outstretched offering, I allowed the sexy stranger to help me off the floor. Sucking in a sharp breath, I caught myself before I moaned, the simple fastening of his grip had my body wound embarrassingly tight.

I was met with an exquisitely bare, muscular chest. Greedily breathing in the irresistible scent, lingering on his glistening skin, I shifted several times. "You didn't answer me." The voice prompted with a deep air of authority. Shamelessly ogling the Demigod I had the fortune to be in the presence of, I took in every inch of his chiseled perfection—finally making eye contact with the two haunting deep blue orbs, staring down at me.

I managed to squeak out a few words, despite the intensity of his blatant stare."Hot-" choking on my words, I stammered, "-I meant fine! I'm fine, thanks." I rushed the disastrous response out on a single breath. Fuck...what is wrong with you? My subconscious jeered, embarrassed by my behaviour.

The stranger's inviting lips curved into a slow, sensual smile. Glancing down at his hands still on me, I nervously glanced towards the elevator. My body flushed with arousal and somehow I was sure that this man wouldn't miss a single signal my body decided to reveal. A rather sobering image of the naked blonde that had barged past me had me relapsing from meeting the perfect specimen of a man real damn quick. Stitching together several obvious details I abruptly—and admittedly reluctantly—shoved out of his hold. "Jerk." I seethed, suddenly skeptical about his reasons for assisting me earlier.

The brief knot of confusion on his features smoothed to reveal a knowing smirk, clearly he'd realised that I put together the naked blonde and this assholes relationship—the fucker was actually proud of himself. Taking a few easy retreating steps, he folded his arms over his chest. I almost groaned at the sight of his biceps contracting, becoming deliciously defined. Leaning into the doorjamb, his legs crossed at the ankles; the action alone had me looking away. The man was disarmingly handsome, I couldn't help but fantasise about all the naughty things he'd do to me—if given half a chance.

"It's quite judgmental to simply assume, the guy hurt the girl." He informed obnoxiously calmly. It took every ounce of strength I possessed to force a scowl in his direction, I think I was in physical pain. "I could just as easily have been the victim..." He purred. Gritting my teeth, I felt a strong sense of annoyance creep through my palms. Sexy as he was, I was beginning to dislike my new neighbour. His lack of morals had my fingers shooting up into my palms.

Stepping back, I threw my hands up into a defensive position. "No judgment." I scoffed, my body language giving away my sarcasm and disgust. "My conclusion may have been drawn from the river of tears the woman had been drowning in, smart arse." Dropping my hands to my hips I laughed once without humour. "Or perhaps her hysterical and nude exit. Or even-"

"Alright already." Cutting me off with a husky chuckle, he surrendered with an intrigued grin. "But, in my defence she knew my intentions from the start. It was a mutual agreement, sweetheart." My jaw dropped, an arrangement—fuck this guy was the ultimate pig.

"Clearly she didn't know your intentions were to break her heart." I seethed, entertaining the thought of slapping this jackass.

"My intentions were to fuck her, hard..."

Prosperity breeds monsters in a universe where,

hunger breeds Ruin.

ignorance breeds Oppression in a world where

lust breeds Skilful manipulation, ultimately

life paves the way for a final Exit.