01 | great escape

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CHAPTER 1

THEN

I felt claustrophobic.

And not because of the line I was standing in, sandwiched between people I vaguely recognised but didn't know well enough to interact with.

"Suzanne Abbot."

The bout of claustrophobia had been brought on by the fact that I looked exactly the same as everybody around me.

A river of dark gowns, brand new graduation caps and crisp white trainers that trickled down to the stage a few feet away from me, each person wearing an excited gleam in their eyes as they accepted their diploma.

"Elizabeth Abston."

I guessed the point of dressing us in identical clothing was to give us the impression that we were part of something much larger than ourselves, but it was ironic how stifling it actually felt.

I was a stranger in somebody else's clothes.

And it was only serving to make me feel as though I'd been stripped away of everything that made me unique.

Well, not everything.

My hair was just as untamable as usual, standing out because of the wild curls that splayed around my head like a halo.

"Sebastian Adams."

The girl that was standing in front of me craned her neck to look further forwards, taking a second to check how many people would be going up before it was finally her turn.

I could feel the nervous energy radiating off her in waves as she spun to face me, giving me a smile that told me I had it wrong -- the emotion that I sensed buzzing in the air was actually excitement, the kind that had you giddy and pumped itself around your body instead of blood.

"There's only three people left." She whispered, voice heavy with anticipation.

I appreciated that she had gone out of her way to tell me, but the truth was, I couldn't care less.

While she was eagerly watching everything that took place on the stage my eyes were darting around the hall, far more entertained by the things that were happening in the audience.

Despite its ridiculous size, the hall was crammed with people. The auditorium didn't have a single seat that wasn't occupied and the unlucky people who hadn't been able to get one were crouched down in various corners, armed with cameras and expectant stares.

"Dudley Ainsworth."

I almost laughed at the sight of Britain's most elite families fighting over chairs at a high school graduation, but stopped myself when I remembered what this was to them.

Thousands of pounds blown on primary and secondary education before they settled into the lives that had been decided for them before they could even walk, days of doing nothing but attending social gatherings and turning their noses up at everybody else.

I knew I sounded a little judgemental myself, but as a member of one of those families, I knew firsthand just how right I was.

"Penelope Albertson."

The girl in front of me threw me one last excited look before she bounded onto the stage, lighting the hall up with the same smile she had given me and shaking our headmaster's hands enthusiastically.

How I wished that anything to do with graduating evoked that kind of reaction from me.

Instead I felt it gnawing on me from the inside, stealing the space in my body designated for my organs until I was filled with dread. The kind that weighed me down as I made my way to the stairs at the foot of the stage, waiting for my own name to be called.

I could feel apprehension coating my skin instead of the sweat that could be seen on most of the people around me, adjusting my gown even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with it.

"Cora Alcott."

The audience came alive with applause, but all I could think about was the pounding of my shoes against the stairs and the fact that they matched the pace of the blood furiously pumping through me.

My steps were as wobbly and disoriented as my mental state in that moment, but I somehow made it to the part of the stage where my headmaster was standing without falling and embarrassing myself.

While I shook her hand I stole a quick glance at the audience, immediately regretting it once my eyes found my parents.

My mother was sitting next to my father in a satin dress that I was almost certain had been bought just for today and would never be worn again, doomed to a fate of being lost in one of the walk-in-wardrobes that she barely even looked at.

My father was staring at me in stony silence and I could feel the intensity of his gaze even with all the space between us. Somehow he was in my head, and I heard him saying, "Cora, the certificate isn't going to take itself," in the patronising voice he seemed to reserve especially for me.

My annoyance only grew when my eyes moved further along through the auditorium, noticing that there were other people here for me — rows and rows of both family and people I'd never seen before.

I scowled a little before masking it quickly, remembering that I was on show.

At first glance my large audience might have seemed sweet and motivating, but that couldn't be further from the truth. They were simply there to guarantee that I did what my parents wanted, probably under the logic that I was less likely to rebel in front of that many people.

I was expected to accept the diploma with the biggest smile I could possibly give, winning the whole audience over with my likeability.

To be honest, that alone would have been fine, and I could've just gritted my teeth and gotten it over with.

It was their long term expectations of me that I had a problem with.

My choices of what to do with my life were few and far in between. I could graduate from a highly ranked university and choose from their 'extensive' list of appropriate careers (a doctor or a lawyer) like my sister Ivy, or become a socialite and live off the money that had been running through my family for years.

That's it. Nothing else was even worth considering.

My parents had drummed the idea that success was a one-way route into me since the day I was born, and refused to accept that there could be any other alternatives.

At some point during the time I spent in my own thoughts while on that stage, something just clicked.

Who exactly was I doing this for? My parents? Society?

Not a single one of the options I turned over in my head was a good enough answer, and that was an answer in itself.

Screw this.

My hands clamped around the certificate and I all but ran off the stage, only pausing to give a quick thank you to my headmaster.

That was solely because it was the polite thing to do, and I had absolutely nothing to thank her for. The eighteen years I spent at the private school she ran were hell, and I couldn't wait to get out of there.

The audience became a sea of widened eyes and gaping mouths, shock distorting their features in exactly the same way.

Or at least that was what I assumed based on the people I caught a glimpse of while my shoes thudded down the stairs.

I deliberately didn't let my eyes find my parents, since that was a surefire way to get myself to chicken out. I had come too far to back out now.

I walked over to the door that led outside the hall, a tower of pine that had been roughened with age and wear. My focus on finding an exit meant that I had blocked out the noises around me and didn't even know if the graduation ceremony had continued.

I hoped that it had since the last thing I wanted was for my own issues to affect anybody else, but my time was wearing thin and I couldn't stay to confirm.

The door was taunting me — the gaps between the wood offering tiny glimpses of the freedom I had been deprived of my whole life, and the handle begging to be twisted.

I braced myself with a deep breath, pushing the door as its rusty hinges congratulated me.

A rare smile made its way onto my face when it swung open and I was greeted by nature in its truest form.

Sounds. Wildlife. People.

All things I experienced on a daily basis, but never like this.

The calm rustle of grass under my feet, the hum of the birds that came a little too close for comfort and the way the sky had intensified in colour, marking this moment in my mind forever.

Grey was a foreign concept to the weather today, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Nothing but an electric blue that stretched further than my eyes would let me see.

In fact, in that moment, the only things clouding over belonged to me.

My vision first, mainly due to the stream of tears that had appeared on my face, a salty combination of all the emotions that I'd been holding in until now.

Then my judgement, because of the anger that I could already feel beginning to take over from my rational thoughts.

Last was my identity.

Blurred by the knowledge that I had finally given in to my parents and lost a key piece of myself as a result.

Taking the certificate meant that I had swallowed the pill that silently says:

"Here's the rest of your life. Use it to live the way society expects you to.

Enjoy!"

A strange feeling came over me. Some kind of newfound determination to do the exact opposite of that.

My hands moved to my face and wiped the tears away quickly, deciding that nothing could be achieved by wallowing in my own self-pity.

When I turned eighteen my parents gifted me a car that pretty much summed them up in a nutshell. It was loud and flashy, the kind that everybody stopped to look at and drew unwanted attention to me.

I had to say though, I had never been more grateful for it than I was in that moment, hoisting myself in and starting it.

Before I had time to overthink it, I drove.

Recklessly and desperately, spurred on by the need to escape from everything and everyone around me.

Very quickly I found that I had no idea where I was, but what was surprising is that I also had no desire to find out.

The trees waved me on, branches stretching towards the window I had glanced out of and pointing forwards.

Then the car itself, blasting a cheesy anthem about 'being free' and 'surviving'.

I had been given a new view of the world in that moment, and I made a promise to myself to never lose it.

My eyes found the windscreen, observing the scene, or lack thereof, that lay in front of me.

Nothing but miles and miles of road.

I waited for panic to settle in, my brows furrowing when it didn't.

Although I expected to be scared or wary, I was neither.

The only thing that I felt was adrenaline.

There is a certain thrill that escape holds, and I found that it was yet to wear off on me.