A/N: As some of you may have noticed I deleted my previous SH story "A Tree Grows in Sleepy Hollow". The truth is, I wasn't really satisfied with it so I decided to start over. Anyway, for those who were familiar with the previous one, this loosely follows the previous storyline (but I guess you'll figure that out on your own). I don't own anything of course (though I wouldn't mind owning the Horseman *stupid giggle*) except my OC. Okay, I'm ending this. Right. Here. Enjoy!

I wanna be praised from a new perspective
But leaving now would be a good idea
So catch me up I'm getting out of here

New Perspective - Panic! At The Disco

And So It Began

Another day, another adventure.

Shouldn't that be my attitude towards life?

I mean, things are just fine right now. School's over, I'm about to move to New York and go to college and I have even planned on going on vacation in a couple of weeks.

You know that feeling of eagerness, anticipation and excitement you get when you're about to make a new beginning, do something big?

I don't get it.

For me it's more like panic, insecurity and sadness. Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

I think I'm just scared. Scared of the unknown, scared of leaving it all behind, scared of watching my life turn out so… dull. Sometimes, I feel like I'm sinking in an ocean of faces. I feel like I do exactly what others expect me to do, without it being what I want. And the part that bugs me the most, is the fact that I'm not sure about what I want. I always thought that I'd know when I saw it. I guess I had a wrong approach on life…

I'm rambling on, aren't I?

I'll be doing a lot of that. That's how I've always been, overanalyzing.

My name's Linda. Linda Robinson. Except when my dad's mad at me. Then it's more like 'Melinda-Sharon-Robinson-get-your-butt-here-at-once!' I'm eighteen years old, with nothing really special about me.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You could say I'm kind of lazy. That's probably why I'm just lying on my bed, playing with a tuft of my hair instead of doing something more young adult-like, such as looking for apartments. I guess, it's one of those days when you feel like doing nothing…and to be more precise, by nothing I mean watch crappy TV shows all day and eat all sorts of junk you can find around the house, trying to get over your sad, sad breakup.

Here it goes again, that wave of hot tears that blurs my vision and makes my jaw clench. Why do I feel like this? Both Steve and I knew this would happen.

I mean, how could it work out? In a couple of months, we'll be living at different coasts. And it's not like I was madly in love with him. I think we were together because it was fun, nothing serious.

Still, though, it bumps me that I have to leave this behind, too.

See? That's exactly the kind of stuff I was talking about! Why can't I just accept things as they come? Why do I have to be so needy?

Am I too egocentric? I think I am. Some problems I've got! Being unable to get over myself. Yeah, it's almost as serious as world hunger and environmental degradation.

I need some fresh air.

Glancing at the clock next to me, I realize it's already midnight. It's too late for a walk.

I desperately need to get out, though. At nights like this, I feel like I'm losing myself.

Nah, I'll stay inside. Eat those chips I left somewhere on my desk and then maybe cry myself to sleep.

Right, what's next? Cutting?

Ugh! Motorcycle keys, stop staring at me!

Fine, I'll go for a little ride. Just for a while… No one will notice… hopefully. Or else, I'm screwed.

I don't think about it any further. I briskly jump out of bed and open the closet, taking out the first things I see.

A pair of skinny jeans, a blue tank top and a black jacket. Fair enough.

I hastily change clothes and grab my earphones and cell phone. This should be fun.

Sliding down the hallway, I look around worriedly, my eyes widened due to the darkness.

My parents are probably asleep. I'm lucky.

I reach for the motorcycle keys and clutch them tightly, to prevent them from jingling. I hold them so hard that it's almost painful, but I'm not taking risks. A sense of excitement mixed with a hint of guilt surges through me and I smile cunningly, considering what I'm about to do.

I know it's wrong, but at this point I can't stop. This isn't the first time I do this, anyway. I don't mean to brag, but I'm quite good at sneaking out.

Alright, I'm out. Crossing the front yard, I inhale deeply, taking in the sweet smell of roses and petunias my father has planted on each side of the stone path that leads to the street.

I'll miss that smell.

The motorcycle is parked outside the fence. It looks a little disorientated compared to its surroundings. I'd say it's a little too badass for such a neighborhood.

Not giving it a second thought, I get on and start it, hoping that no one will get alarmed by the sound of the engine.

I'm ready to go.

I head outside the town, towards the woods, my auburn hair tied up in a ponytail, waving in the cool, July air. It's just the Beast and me.

The Beast… I remember calling it like this when I first saw it, seven or eight years ago. My father bought it for a ridiculously high price, but little did he care. Sometimes he treated it as if it was his own child. His huge, black Yamaha… I was so fascinated by it, as a little girl, dreaming about the day I'd get to go for a ride with it. And that day came, two years ago. At first I was intimidated by its size. I thought I would never manage to control it.

I've come a long way since that.

I'm not afraid to go fast. I know how to handle it. I can feel the road. It makes me feel powerful. Invincible.

I'm already in the woods. The sound of the Beast fills my ears and I barely think of where I'm going.

Maybe things will be fine. Maybe I just have to lighten up a little bit. Maybe I'll manage to make a new beginning.



I'm an idiot. A huge one.

I don't remember taking this path before.

Panic is taking over as the realization becomes clearer and clearer. I'm lost.

And it's raining. Heavily.

I manage to stop and look around, hoping that I can recognize this clearing, which is ridiculous, taking into account that a forest is more or less the same, no matter where you are, especially at night.

That's what you get when your head is constantly in the clouds.

I glance behind, my expression one of pure desperation. The clearing branches out to all directions and I have no idea where I came from.

I won't lose it now. I won't panic. And no matter how shitty things get, I won't cry.

Not knowing what else to do, I get on the Beast again and ride forwards. There is a chance the path will lead to a road I know. Or at least I hope so.

I keep going and going but the path doesn't seem to stop anywhere. I ignore whatever turns I see. I don't need to make things more complicated.

Whatever hopes I had, fade away slowly, leaving me with my fears and frustration. My only consolation is the engine sound, loud and monotonous. It makes me feel like I'm safe, although I know safe is a far cry from what I am right now.

I don't know how long I have been riding, racing my panic. The rain hasn't stopped at all and I can hear thunders all the more often.

This is all my fault. Had I stayed at home, none of this would have happened. But no. Twenty-four hours without doing something stupid is one too many for me. I had to sneak out.

I hate to say so, but that'll teach me.

…If I make it out alive.

I'll make it out alive.

I speed up. The never-ending path is starting to get on my nerves.

Suddenly, I hear a really loud thunder, followed by a horrible shrill sound. For a second the night turns into day and I jolt. Being distracted, I loosen my grip on the steer wheel and lose control. I shift my weight forwards, praying that I won't slip from my seat, but it's too late. The front wheel bumps into a bulgy, sharp rock and next thing I know, I'm thrown off of my seat.

Landing on the ground, I hear the motorcycle crash into a tree.

The blinding flashes of light continue for a while, as the wild wind keeps blowing.

I can hear the motorcycle. I can hear it, but I can't see anything other than the sky, that keeps switching from pitch black to a faded purple.

I know I have to get up, but, damn, I can't. Even keeping my eyes open takes a lot of effort. My whole body is in pain and I all I can do is let out little cries of agony.

Is this the end?

The sky is spinning… Faster and faster…

I shut my eyes, trying to overcome my dizziness, but I can still feel the whole world spin beneath me.

"I'm sorry", I whisper as I keep slipping into the warmth and security of the darkness. I don't know what I'm sorry for, neither do I care.

I think it's all good.

My bike is here…

The rain has stopped…

And I am…