Author: Harligh Quinn PM
Every now and then Jake gets the itch to run...Rated: Fiction K - English - Angst - Words: 554 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 3 - Published: 12-25-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4741368
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Notes: I If you love it please review .... matter fact if you hate it go on and review it too.
Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long
No matter what I say or do
I still feel you till the moment I'm gone
There were times when she felt the urge to run away and never look back.
On those days she'd wake up in a cold sweat just before dawn would peak. The memory of whatever it is that shook her so violently from a deep sleep would always elude her in the initial moments of terror when wakefulness would seize her. All that she'll be left with is the lingering feeling of needing to be as far away from Rawley as possible, as soon as possible.
Hurriedly, she'll dress and grab the knapsack that she always kept hidden under her bed because it was filled with everything she needs in just such an occasion; then she'll snatch her laptop and keys then head out to her bike. Within 5 minutes of waking she could have all her most cherished belongings carefully secured on her bike along with her motorcycle helmet safely fastened atop her head.
Her bike would be purring and ready to go in 6 minutes of waking.
It wouldn't be until dawns full rays were peaking over the horizon that she would feel the initial pang in her heart at the thought of the moment when he comes to her room to find that she and all her most prized possessions are gone. She can even imagine the exact shade of blue his eyes will turn when he realizes that she isn't coming back. Compellingly, she has to resolve herself not to turn back just for him all-the-while her hands shake as she clutches the gears.
And it's usually not until she gets past Carson that she actually realizes that there are tears running down her face and it's not really raining. It's by this time that she usually pulls over to retch or clutch her head. If she takes a moment to look down at her watch she'll note that it's usually only around 6:15 and she's only been gone for an hour and 15 minutes. When she looks up from her watch she always glances to the right first– because it's usually the direction she is headed in when she runs –in this direction there is nothing but open road and wanderlust. But when that familiar pang seizes her heart again – this time much more vehemently – she looks back toward the left and thinks maybe if she went back it wouldn't just be for him.
Then it only takes a second to realize where she is going next.
This time when she is driving on her bike and she feels the tears running down her face she smiles because she can picture the exact shade of blue his eyes will be when he comes to her room and finds her already waiting for him.
But when she gets back to her room he's always sitting in front of her door waiting for her to let him in; and she always does.