Escape

[Daz]

August.

My eyes peer over the top of my sunglasses as I mentally photograph this scene.
Men, Women, Children on the beach. Smiling, Screaming, Splashing... Families. The delicate amount of detail upon each figure is Immense. Rays of sunlight pouring onto the face of each child does so such a perfect manner. Stunning. And the features of the Adults, Ages spanning from young couples, to parents, to the elderly standing by, keeping watch.
The smile on every face hits me like a tidal wave, drowning my soul in... Guilt? Fear? Misery?...
I blink and see that fine line behind the reality and the truth. In that fraction of a second when my eyes close I see Scarlett Red. I see the Screaming and the Splashing but the Smiles are gone. Funny how taking that one aspect away everything can change. Screaming, Splashing, Suffering.
In a flash my eyes open again to meet the blue skies and clear white sand. I wipe my forehead as the Sun beats me down.
My index finger reaches upwards to place my glasses in a neater postion before I continue down the path alongside Miami Beach. Tourists flood my way. I frown.
My brown hair falls into my face so I find myself having to flick it outta the way. I much prefered the blonde. or the red. or the ginger. Brown is good for blending in, I guess. I resort to it in alot of cases, Though it does make me long to be on the run again.. just so I have the chance to go extreme with my style. To stand out a little more. To be myself. For a while anyway.
I think about my many ego's... and sometimes I do wonder wether this classes as being schizo or not. I mean... Having the need for fictional characters to live your life for you cant be too bad right?
Well...
Sometimes they do get outta controll.
MariAnne.
Blonde hair.
Brown Eyes.
Never thinks.
Just finishes the job.
... Just lives for herself.
Lets noone get in her way...
Lets noone Dare to deny her.
I blink again and the world flashes back into focas.
I'm Bree. My name is Bree Anderson. And Im 17. Im here on Vacation. My parents nearly didnt let me go, they said 'You better not go findin' any boys down there..' and my father kissed my cheek before I left, giving me a few dollars to live off of.
I slip my hands into my pockets. The pockets of a worn grey hoodie. I should take it off.. i'd seem suspecious in this damn heat. I let it slip off of my shoulders and grab hold of it before it falls to the floor, tying a knot with the sleeves around my waist. Thats better.
I have to keep myself from staring at those who pass me. Everyone that walks past makes me wonder wether I know them... Which is a stupid theory. I've never been in Miami before.
And already it seems to grow on me. In a good way or not... I dont have a clue. But as long as it feels safe I can deal with it. They wont find me here.
Who is looking for me? I didnt do anything. I never did a thing. Im Bree.
I'm a nobody.
Yet.

[Devyn]

I am originally from Mississippi.
No, I'm not....
I'm originally from Washington.
No, that's a lie....
I'm originally from California.
No, no one would believe that....
I'm originally from Kansas.
Yeah, that one works best. No one gives a shit about Kansas. Who would care about that place? No one will ask me.
I live there. No. I lived there. Kansas.... cool place? Sure, why not?
She was seated on a curb outside of a restaurant, watching cars that drove by in this hot and humid state. Florida definitely wasn't one of her favorites. Wasn't there any breezes here?
I love it here in Florida. Best state I've even been to.
She finally picked herself up, brushing off her the dirt from her backside on her ripped and frayed jeans. They looked fashionable-- like she'd purchased them ripped and torn. No one had to know they were bought brand new and didn't have any holes when she bought them. Hell, they had been a much darker jean color before this too and now they were almost too light.
Fashionable.
Yeah, I picked these out to be fashionable. Bought them at Macy's. Over a hundred dollars!
I'm rich.
They'll believe that.
She started walking down the sidewalk, passing people and keeping her eyes off them until they were behind her, then she'd turn back and look at them. She made up stories about the people she passed.
That girl was a proffessional horseback rider. But just as she was getting to state, she fell off and broke her left leg-- they had to take a chance on a rookie... and me! I won them the state championship.
I'm a hero here. Everybody knows me.
I'm a pro-horseback rider. You would never guess by looking at me. But that girl I just passed. She owes me everything. I can call her up for a favor anytime I want.
She passed another, smalled man.
My brother. We haven't talked in so long. It's good to see him again. He's been here for a long time. He got jealous of me and had to leave... but I forgive him.
I have everything, who wouldn't be jealous of me?
He was a good brother though.
As she walked alone, making up stories and convincing herself that each one was true, at least until she moved on to the next one, she didn't have to think about the truth-- the real truth. Not ever.
That is the truth.
I'm Evelyn Maine... such a boring name.
I could be Annie.
Delphia.
Jennifer.
Katy.
Elise.
Allyson.
Amy.
Victoria.
Anyone I want to be.
But I like Evey.
That's my name. It's Evey.
I'm Evey.
Evey.

[PirateOTC]

He was standing by the little hot dog-stand on this huge beach, leaning against the broadside of the stand and just finishing his hot dog and coke. It was his breakfast. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans, pretty warm indeed, but it wasn't like he had managed to change since what happened two nights ago
Two nights ago...shit
As soon as he started thinking about it, he started looking around more. Started to take in the environment around him. A beach...lots of sand...water...lots of people. Lots of people was good...and bad of course, but how many here in Miami was originally from New York and were just on vacation now?
Not really possible..
He had to tell himself that. That he was safe now. That he was gonna blend in pretty well. A guy wearing a shirt and jeans on a beach..was that too suspicious?
His right pocket on his pants was slightly stitched together, so you couldn't put your hand in it. Since things weren't really suppose to be like this, he had been forced to do what he had to do in that moment. (good thing he had passed that sewingmashine-store...)
They got the bag...but maybe that was best...I couldn't be running around like this with a bag! I am good. I will fix this. I will manage
He had to tell himself that. That he was safe now. That he would be able to fix this mess.
You can't always be the best, right? 5 years without a mark was pretty good indeed, but maybe that was also a premonition that what happened two nights ago was bound to happen.
At least I'm still free..
Free... caged freedom though? Wasn't he running away? Is that freedom? Freedom to be able to buy anything he sees, to walk everywhere he wants, to eat whatever he wants, to sleep, to be awake anytime he wants...caged freedom. With no return. Not now anyway. So many he had left behind..
Shit..
Things weren't suppose to be like this...now people would be mad...would be worried... his family. They would know...another reason not to turn back.
I started this. 5 years without a mark... and I will finish this. No matter what it will cost?
he slowly took his hand to the outside of his stitched together pocket.
No matter what it will cost..
He pushed himself away from the wall, threw the empty coke-can in a trashcan...
bullseye
and started walking. Good thing he was wearing his sneakers and not his converse shoes...those would have been hell to walk in for this long..

[Nikki]

I won't be home for Christmas.
That's the initial thought running through my head right now.
Even though it's August, and Florida probably doesn't know what Christmas is.
No matter how random or strange the notion is, it's true.
I *won't* be home for Christmas. I don't have a home. And that's mostly my fault.
Alright. . .it's *all* my fault.
I can already feel the sunburn setting in; probably the kind that peels. The worst kind, of course. . .I guess I never deserved anything more or less than the worst.
So that's why I'm standing on this godforsaken beach right now, cooking in the sun. How can all these people be so happy?
Right now I feel a universe or two away from them. On the other side of a glass window, pounding my fists.
Metaphorically.
Staring down at my Chuck Taylors through the screen of my blonde hair, I wonder how long I can run.
And then I wonder if I should even *be* running.

[Daz]

By the time I reach what looks like a suitable place to stay, the sun has already grown too hot for me. I head towards an old condo at the end of the beach.. not many people seem to be around here.
The tourists tend to stay up by the shops and attractions. Littering. Destroying. Eroding what could be quite beautiful.
I sigh, heading towards the small building to see if anyones inside, after peering through the window I guess not and break off the rusty lock on the door, pushing it open.
Its cool in here.
Thank goodness.
I sit down in the corner, dumping my bag beside me.

[Nikki]

All that's on my mind right now is to get out of the heat.
I've heard that if you dig a hole in the sand and lay in it, you cool off. But personally, I'm not up to that right now.
My eyes travel down the line of condos, all in use. Except the one on the end. The windows are dark, and there seem to be no decorations. Walking up to it, I notice the number on the door; twenty-three.
The rusty lock seems broken though. But the heat has consumed all rational thought I had left. I find myself not caring. Opening the door with a bit of effort, I step inside.
There sits a girl about my age, a brunette. I can't tell if she seems approachable or not, but she sure looks worn out. If so, this is the place for me.

[Daz]

I glance up jumping a little, because by that time I havent been sitting there very long at all.
I reach for my bag and look up at her.. "eh.. Sorry.. Is this place yours?" I ask.

[Nikki]

"I wish," I say, looking around.
It really would be quite nice when it was in use.
"I'm Pidge." I wince after I say that. I should be done with that nickname by now. I wish I was. But I have the feeling I may need it. "Danielle. Whichever you like."
I don't know if I should be talking to this girl. . .she could be connected with the media, or the police.
That's another thing I wish I could stop thinking. Because I don't even know if they're after me yet.

[Devyn]

Evey mauvered herself through the streets, somehow managing to avoid touching anyone that got anywhere close.
They all try to brush against me because they think I'm a hero... I mean... I am a hero. What am I saying? Who wouldn't want to be around me?
All the same, she wandered by herself down the sidewalk until it turned towards the beach or condos. She looked either way for several minutes, then started to the condos.
I don't have to ask to spend the night. I'm Evey. They all know me. They'll just let me be there. No problem.
True to her thoughts she moved from condo to condo, looking for one that didn't seem to have anyone in it.
I want my own... No, I don't mind sharing...

[Daz]

"Im.. Bree." I have to recall my own name.
To be honest I dont claim to remember my original one... though it dosnt matter. Because i'd never let anyone be aware of it anyway.
"I suppose you're staying here too then?"