The quaint little sign by the side of the road flashes past me and I'd like to say that I relaxed a little. Except I didn't. I was as tense as ever, over the past few days, however long it was. Frantically driving across the country to California, to a place that I'd never seen and only heard of once. Without a real goal except 'get to Sunnydale'.
Why? I don't know. It didn't make any sense to me. But it was the one thread I had to hang on to and when I had the chance to get the fuck out of New York, I took it. Sunnydale. My lifeline.
I was at boarding school in upstate New York at the time. My senior year, I'm seventeen. Almost legal. I liked to go down to the city to party on the weekends. The school frowned upon that, but my parents were paying them loads of money from the mother country, so they could frown all they wanted. I wasn't more trouble than I was worth, because I was worth a lot. So I went down to the clubs. No big deal, right?
I knew people. Lots of people. I was pretty popular, if I do say so myself, which I do. I knew this one girl... I don't even want to think about it. She wasn't really my friend but we hung out together sometimes, saw each other occasionally, went to the same clubs. One time, I saw her get into a fight with some guy. Not like a physical fight, they were just arguing. I figured he was her father or guardian or something, but I eavesdropped anyway. Sue me. It saved my life.
He wanted her to get out of town. "Go to Sunnydale," he said. "You're not safe here." Then something about potential, and some girl named Bunny or Muffy or something. Weird name. My friend refused to go.
The next weekend, I saw her die.
These guys in black robes came after her as she left the club. I followed her 'cause I was gonna ask for a smoke, and I saw it. Well, sort of. I don't remember most of it, and I ran away as fucking fast as I could. I didn't think they saw me.
I didn't go down to the city after that. Stayed at school on the weekends. I was pretty freaked out, but thought I was safe. That school had security up the arse, nothing gets in. A couple of days later, the guys in robes came after me. Security held them off, but I got the hell out of there fast. I don't know what they want from me, maybe they saw me that night. I don't know. But that night, I grabbed some shit and ran. The school let some upperclassmen have cars, it was like a status symbol. Whose parents are the richest.
I jumped into my little Jetta and drove across the country. I slept about every other night, and I wasn't tired, anyway. Running on adrenaline and fear. And now that I'm in Sunnydale, I don't feel any better. What do I do now?
I drive into town, park the Jetta on the main street and get out. Ooh, look, a coffee place. I could use some coffee. I've lost track of the days I spent on the road. I feel like shit. I probably look like shit. I dragged myself over to the coffee shop, got something big and wam and caffeinated and sat down at a random table. Time to figure out what to do now.
(Open to anyone, basically.)