03

THERE WAS A soft knock at my door. I blatantly ignored it.

"Auttie, please let me in."

"Go away, Lola,” I grumbled.

I recognize my friend's voice almost immediately. I'd know that calm yet demanding voice anywhere.

"I'll start singing if you don't open up," she laughed softly.

A smile formed on my face against my will. I knew she wasn't lying. When I didn't open the door once before, she sat on the other side singing until I opened up.

I opened the door before she could start singing. She was a horrible singer. And besides, if I didn't let her in, she would tear down the door with her explicitly scary acrylic nails.

Her round, pale face greeted me as I opened the door. Lola was beautiful and she knew it. She used it like a weapon. Her soft black curls were the definition of perfect hair, and her grey eyes could intimidate anyone when there wasn't a mischievous glint in them.

She grinned ferally. "I knew you'd cave," she said, and pushed past me into my room. She seemed tentative as she crossed into my room, which was terribly unlike her. She never showed a sign of hesitance. Her beautiful features were creased over with worry.

"Are you okay? I heard a lot of shouting while I was waiting." She grimaced.

I sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

"I'm sorry," was all she said. The bed dipped down to her side from her weight.

I smiled at her sadly. "It's not your fault,"

She nodded, turning her gaze away and lying down next to me. I threw an arm over my face.

"He never lets me do what I want," I told her.

"I know," she said sympathetically. "But he's just trying to keep you—"

"Safe?" I rolled my eyes. "There's a difference between keeping your daughter safe and telling her that she's being presumptuous."

It was quiet for a few minutes until Lola broke it as casually as she broke hearts.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

No matter how many times I argued with my father, it was the same. He would never budge. He wasn't even willing to acknowledge or listen to what I was trying to say. What I wanted.

"I was just thinking about how every fight I put up until today was completely ignored," I voiced honestly.

I turned my head slightly to look at her. "I'm tired of fighting for permission, Lola," I said.

"Ms. Devon," a voice said from behind the door.

"Yeah?" she called.

"Your mother called. She said it was urgent."

Lola gave me an apologetic look, and I shook my head, telling her that it was fine.

She hurried to my bedroom door, making her way out.

She then looked to her sides nervously, as if to make sure that no one was listening.

She then looked back to me.

"Autumn," she started. "His permission? You don't need it."

Exactly what I had told him.

She nodded at me one last time and left, leaving me contemplating something absolutely absurd.

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I was going to leave.

Leave, and show dad that I could step out of this place, his protection, and manage to not end up in some ditch. Only for a short while, until I could find something I actually liked doing, so that I could show him that I could make my own decisions.

It wasn’t like this company would collapse without me. In fact, it would be quite the opposite. Someone who was actually interested in the job could make the company thrive.

The guards always patrolled the perimeter before the next shift arrived, and so I had less than five minutes to get the hell out of this place.

I never understood why we even had guards. It was very less likely that someone would be foolish enough to try and infiltrate a building which had one of the best surveillance systems.

Yes, I would get caught by the cameras too, but I'd be gone long before that.

I didn't tell anyone even after I'd decided on this impetuous and reckless plan, because I was damn sure that they'd all play loyal puppy and report back to my father. I didn't tell Al, because, well, he'd try to stop me. Lola, I guessed, would have guessed that I would do something like that.

I would have to stay somewhere low-key. Somewhere where my dad couldn't find me if he decided to hunt me down.

It all seemed like a different reality. A reality where I could get what I wanted. Where my dad didn't control anything of what I did or said. I was in love with the idea of that, but I couldn't help but think that that's all it was: an idea.

My brain was telling me to stop. To stop and think, whereas my heart was trying to burst out of my ribcage.

I should think about Lola, but wasn't she the one who suggested it in the first place? But it wasn't like we would never see or talk to each other again. I should think about how worried Al would be, but if Lola told him that it was what I wanted, he would be okay with it.

I started overthinking.

No, I couldn't do that to Al, or my dad for that matter, but my heart told me to. My heart told me, that for once in my life, I should be impulsive. For once I should think about what I wanted.

I may get caught, but I had nothing to lose. All this time, I had to take a second opinion about everything. I always doubted myself. The question I always asked was, 'Will dad be okay with this?'

Not anymore.

I decided to do it.

It was crazy, it was impetuous, and it was stupid.

But I was going to do it.

The saying was, for a reason, 'Follow your heart.'

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I purse my lips and chopped through my hair with the scissors. I didn't know if it would make identifying me difficult, but anyone who knew me, first recognized me because of my bright hair. This way, I could keep it hidden easily.

My hair was shoulder length again. Choppily longer on one side because of my amateur cutting skills. You can blame my dad for not letting me use scissors before I was seven.

It looked exactly like the time when I was a kid. I had used a pair of scissors and cut my hair myself because the eight-year-old me was afraid of the woman that cut my hair. In my defence, she was covered in tattoos and piercings.

Dad had been astonished when he’d seen me. He had asked why I cut my hair and I responded with, 'The woman who cuts my hair is a witch. I know it, daddy.'

He just laughed and made me sit down, slowly making his best attempt to even it out. That was the first time I realized that I wasn't okay with dad not being around. I wasn't okay with not seeing the only family I had left only once in a blue moon.

I stared at the girl in the mirror. She was a completely transformed girl. A changed girl. A girl who was leaving everything familiar behind to prove her point. I was stubborn, but that wasn't a weakness.

Determination set in my eyes; I was ready to finally do something about what I wanted.

I was ready to leave. Go away from home and into a world I knew close to nothing about. A world I knew nothing about because of my father.

The very thought of it made me angry and sad at the same time. I knew what I was doing, and I hated myself for the fact that I was acting like all the things he did for me over the years was nothing. It wasn't nothing.

I would remember everything good he did for me, and I would always be grateful for it. And one day, hopefully, I would make him proud as well as myself happy.

But not here. That wouldn't happen if I stayed here.

I shouldered my backpack, my black beanie covering most of my red hair. I was wearing all black and looked really shady.

I walked the door, ready to do this.

I looked back at my room. The slightly torn wallpaper from when I decided that I needed to practice how to throw knives for self-defence (don't ask how that ended up). At that age I hadn't known that knives weren't the handiest in a gun fight.

The shelves of books were stocked up completely, leaving no room for more, and yet I always found a way to make another fit. My sheets were rumpled from the hurried packing and the markings on the wall were from when dad measured my height every time he came home after being away for a very long time.

Unable to leave it behind, I quickly walked over and shoved the picture on my bedside table into my bag and walked back to the window.

The cold breeze blew in, ruffling my curtains. The security would leave in soon and the guards for the second shift would arrive. It would be a quick transition, giving me just enough time for me to get through.

There were some days so boring that I would just stare out of the window. That's from where I got all this information from.

Truth be told, I didn't know what I was doing. I was being stupid. Maybe I'd crawl back home like a coward, but at least I'd have tried. At least I wouldn't have to carry another ‘what if?’.

As the last of the guards started to leave, my heart started pounding aggressively.

It was really dark, and there were more stars than usual, like they were here to witness my foolishness. All the lights in the mansion were out, except for the ones in dad's office. He was most probably working late again.

I looked away and ahead at the path before me.

I took a deep breath ran.

I was completely, utterly, positively, out of my mind. I didn't know what I was doing.

I ran through the gates, not looking behind even once.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Before the guards from the next shift could arrive, I sprinted through the gates at full speed.

I never knew I could run so fast. I ran until my house was out of sight. I was turning unknown corners, bolting down deserted streets. There seemed to be no one in sight.

I was still running.

It felt like my muscles would never get tired.