The F*ck-it List - Robert Clark (black male authors TXT) 📗

Chapter 1

So how do I start this… Um yeah, my name is Holly. Holly June. Weird name I know, people made fun of me for it all the time. They would call me “Holy Prude” up until high school. The name calling stopped after sophomore year though. Apparently there wasn’t anything holy about losing your virginity. I didn’t care. I didn’t care what other people thought. I didn’t care the way other people looked at me. I didn’t care that my dad disowned me. Actually that last part was a little tough to swallow, but I moved on. It just wasn’t in the way I expected.

When somebody asks you where you see yourself in a year, you never dream up the possibility that you’d be stranded in the middle of 200 miles of nothing, traveling to the “spot where the sun kisses the Earth” in a stranger’s pick-up truck. No, you’d probably have high hopes and expectations like learning French or some other bullshit that you never actually look into. Instead you waste yourself on another year of your life as you drag your fat ass to and from school, with nothing but disappointed parents and a shitty life to look forward to. And sometimes you’re perfectly satisfied with that. I was. That was, until I met a guy who wasn't.

His name was Robert and at first glance there was nothing special about him. Well, he was a part of the 10% of the school that was actually attractive. And in a school that doesn’t offer sports he was surprisingly athletic. That’s beside the point though. He was just very… strange. He acted just like everybody else. He seemed a little fake even. But his eyes gave him away. It would be cliché to say they were dark and mysterious, but if you’ve never seen a pair of eyes like that, his are the perfect example. It was as if behind his face there was a completely different person. A person who had a heavy secret kept safeguarded. A person who knew pain. Someone like me. I used to think that that was a little bit of a stretch. That it was ridiculous to think there was someone as fucked up as me. Right? Well it turns out that after the world knocks you down, and you’ve stayed down, and the ground has finally become almost as comfortable as your mattress, the world rips the ground right out from under you.

He kidnapped me. Actually, that’s not really fair to say because first of all I didn’t miss my house, nor did I want to go back. Second, I liked him. He was hot. Well duh, I didn’t like guys who weren’t hot, but it was a lot of other things as well. He was the first person who made me feel like I was worth it, like my life meant something. He was crazy too. No, not the good kind of crazy like sidewalk artists, I mean the kind of crazy that you just couldn’t place your finger on. He always carried a black book. I asked what the whole deal with that was and he would just grow silent and distant for a time. I guessed it wasn’t my business, but what really ate at me was what a person with no artistic ability was doing with a sketchbook. Yet apparently, that book was the reason we were on the run in the first place.

Text: copyright robertclark©
Publication Date: 09-07-2011

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To the people who still listen to the song in their hearts.