After leaving the apartment, Austin retrieved Kristy's spare car keys from the light bulb's glass bowl, dropped it into his pocket, then strolled down the corridor with me walking behind his heels.

Thanks to the white hue, I can see a glimmer stained on the silver car keys. Attached to them, is a rainbow flag, a stuffed Winnie the Pooh bear, and a small, golden portrait frame containing a photo of Olivia Hale.

I tilt my head to look at the image.

Raven dark hair, brown eyes, sexy olive skin, no wonder Kristy had fallen head over heels for this girl.

Austin had once told me that Kristy had met Olivia during her sophomore year in college.

New York University, I think.

Anyway, Kristy was going to her first art class, when she noticed men and women marching on the road, protesting against homophobia in New York. Some were pelting rocks at the officers, while others were holding their painted signs up high, stating their rights to be same-sex couples.

Believe it or not, one of the protesters was a stunning Vietnamese woman with big brown eyes, luscious black hair, and a "spunky" attitude.

At that moment, Kristy saw Olivia's beautiful face, it was love at first sight.

Studying the silver trinkets from a further distance, I asked Austin: "Why does Kristy have another set of keys?"

As soon as I asked that, Austin scratches his head in embarrassment.

"Kristy has some sort of attention deficit disorder," he explained. "It makes it harder for her to remember things."

"Oh," I say, bobbing my head.

"I mean," Austin went on, "Kristy can do normal things like, driving a car, buying groceries, and other shit. But most days, she forgets certain things, like where Kristy puts her keys and stuff."

Digging my hands into my pockets, I maintained my composure by searching for any late-night sleepwalkers. But luckily, we didn't hear the constant jingle coming from the rusty doorknobs.

Meanwhile, everything was quiet; no loud arguments, no signs of the janitor vacuuming the small hallways, and not even a fly buzzing around.

It was only the smell of Clorox that blinded my nostrils.

"Wow," I thought to myself.

I may not be an expert in God, but this apartment complex appears as if the rapture happened behind my back.

Passing through the locked doors, I thought Austin and I can easily escape the apartment complex, but just then, a loud, drunken voice send chills down our spines.

"JACK!" it growled. "JACK, WHERE ARE YOU?"

Austin and I froze, too stiff to make a move.

Angry sounds of flying dishes crashed against the walls, as Joseph's banging footsteps stomped on the floors.

"JACK?" Joseph bellowed. "WHERE ARE YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH?!"

The next thing I heard is large pieces of wooden furniture overturning.

CRASH!

SHATTER!

Listening to Joseph rage was like an earthquake fracturing the Earth's crust, and there was no way around it.

"JACK!" Joseph screamed. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

Scared, Austin became very reluctant leaving the apartment complex, until I take his left hand then drag him away from my drunk father's screams.

After the noise died down, Austin whispered: "Is that your dad?"

I gripped his hand tighter, not saying a word.

Straight ahead, I see a brown, battered door probably leading us to the main lobby. Thin cat-like scratches streaked on the surface, making it easier for bugs to crawl through.

There were also scuff marks and traces of dry mud scattering the entrance like paint decorating a blank canvas.

Noting my silence, Austin added, "I have never heard your dad sound this upset before."

Lifting my backpack up to my shoulders, I quickly glanced in his way.

Although he was moving the same pace as me, Austin looks as if he had been shot in the chest. His skin was pale, his brown eyes bulged in fear, and his footsteps sounded stiff.

Clutching his hand tightly, I nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, " I murmured. "me too."

Before Isadora left, Joseph was the happiest man alive. Two adorable kids, a well-paying job in law enforcement, and a kind wife who would do anything to make her family happy.

Six years later, the Cassidy family has fallen apart: Isadora left for drugs, Jacob left for college, and now, I left to accomplish something legendary.

But as for Joseph, he is bawling in the empty apartment, feeling guilty about the fight we had earlier.

The broken glass, crumbled furniture and tears rushing down Joseph's reddened face-he wanted nothing more than to say, "I'm sorry" to his rebellious daughter.

Unfortunately, I tend to hold grudges for a long time. No matter what excuse he comes up with, I will never EVER forgive Joseph.

Throughout my childhood, Joseph tormented me with threats and brutal interrogations; he never lets me be myself, and the only two things he cares about, are his collection of whiskey and his police job.

Hell, it was one of the reasons why Jacob never visited us during holiday breaks.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed Joseph out of my thoughts, held my best friend's left hand tight, then quickly ushered toward the wooden door.

But as Austin opened it, a flight of stairs appeared in front of our eyes.

Everything is gray: the stairs, walls, and even the staircase are dipped in the color of cement. And from the looks of it, there were at least eighty stairs-including the ones above us.

Taking steady breaths, Austin and I tightened our left hands against the metal rung, then ventured forward.

Thankfully, the toxic smell of Clorox evaporated, as we scoured along the twisty path, passing gray doors with silver doorknobs.

As we walked downstairs, Austin asked: "Is there something going on between you and your dad?"

Releasing Austin's hand, I ran my left along the metal stair rail, not replying to his question.

"Look, I know you hate opening up to people, but what I heard back there-"

"Don't worry about it," I interrupted. "I will be fine."

Austin flashes me one of his worried motherly looks. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, training my eyes on my scampering feet.

"Yeah," I say. "I am doing fine."

My best friend buries his hands inside his pockets then sighed. "Okay, I guess I won't bother you."

"Good."

"But, " he adds forewarningly, "if there is something you are not telling me, I will continue to bother you until the day I die."

I rolled my eyes at his weak threat.

"Cool, " I reply, moving forward.

Minutes after we reached the first floor, Austin found another entrance-which led us into the parking lot-then swung it open.

Immediately, cold air came rushing into our faces.

Pitch darkness and smells of cold whiskey became our kryptonite as we adjusted our surroundings.

Footsteps squished against hardened concrete; 78th Haven's apartment complex had barely said a word. An ocean of unused convertibles parked in between white lines.

With a careful gaze, I later spot Kristy's red SUV, parked in front of a white curb with its back facing us.

Smiling in relief, I said to Austin, "Thank God! I thought we'd never escaped from this shithole."

Although Austin agreed with me, he didn't meet my eyes or said anything in return.

Instead, he pointed the car keys in Kristy's red SUV then pushed the unlock button with his right thumb.

Click-Click

On cue, four doors were unlocked, causing me and Austin to quicken our steps in fear of unwanted attention.

After hopping into the front seats, Austin and I removed our bags then placed them in front of our feet.

Next, we buckled our seatbelts and adjusted our butts in a comfortable position.

And last but not least, after starting the car, Austin quietly left the driveway then drove into the vehicle-infested road.

Looking around, I see no traces of skid marks burning on the concrete. Flashing lights passed me like a tornado seeking destruction.

"I still can't believe I am doing this, " he groaned, staring ahead at the road.

"Drastic times call for desperate measures, Austin," I say. "Besides, you want to make this movie."

"It's desperate times, Jack!" he groaned, correcting me again. "Desperate times call for desperate measures!"

I threw up my arms in exasperation.

"Whatever!" I moaned. "Anyway, we should be arriving at the airport."

"The airport?!" Austin exclaimed. "I am so fucking grounded."

"Worry about Kristy and Olivia later," I insisted, "right now, we need to get out of here fast."

Austin grunted, then steered around an oncoming taxi cab.

"Okay, fine!" he grumbled. "let's go to the airport."

"That's the spirit." I smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

"But here is the thing," he added, feeling unsure about himself. "What if your dad and my moms are already looking for us? We might need to find a place to hide until our movie is finished."

I thought about his statement for a moment, then sighed.

Hiding in plain sight does sound like a brilliant idea, however, if we roam around places without any disguises, then before you know it, we will be thrown behind bars.

And even though I agree with Austin's tactic, there is no way in hell I am staying indoors like a caveman.

"I get it what you are saying Austin, I really do." I began to explain. "but if we are going to film a movie, we need disguises."

With a solemn expression on his face, Austin continued heading west until he noticed a traffic light turning crimson.

Performing a full stop, Austin sighed again.

"How are we going to get disguises?" he asked. "We have at least $815 in our pockets."

I pondered for a moment. "Well, let's improvise."

Austin's eyes gazed at the red stoplight, but his mouth did a disbelief smirk.

"Improvise?" he repeats. "How?"

"Well, you still have those face paints, wigs, and fake tattoos, and piercings, right?"

His brown eyes glanced at mine. "Uh, yeah? I always carry them my backpack."

Usually, Austin would put on his costumes in school to avoid kids, but whenever it's Holloween, Austin paints his face into gruesome monsters to scare away the younger kids.

On last year's Holloween contest, Austin won first place for dressing up as the menacing Freddy Kreuger.

Like most contestants, they would wear fake masks and cheesy costumes.

But not Austin.

He would stay up all night and create a real Freddy Kreuger by using prosthetics face pieces, special effects makeup, and make the costume look as though Austin had stolen it from the movie set.

With patience, diligence, and needlework, Austin made his costume stand out from the others.

Acting teacher, Mr. Keswick, would say something weird, like Austin being the  Picasso to my William Shakespeare.

That he is the 'gateway to my destiny'.

The gateway to my destiny? I chortled to myself.

Even though Mr. Keswick is the best teacher in the world, he sounds like that lion from Chronicles of Narnia.

Regardless, I have never doubted Mr. Keswick for a second—especially Austin.

Sure, he can be a book nerd, but like me, Austin is a passionate artist who avoids trouble.

Watching him drive past a flurry of cars, I responded, "well, maybe we can use them to our advantage."

Austin grunted. "How?"

"We can buy some new clothes at the supermarket, " I suggested. "and with your incredible art skills, we can pull off our disguises easily."

"So, what do you think?" I ask.

"Good idea, but we should also find a place to crash," Austin suggests. "Then we could make our disguises."

I shrugged casually. "Sounds like a plan."

As soon as the lights turned green, Austin proceeded forward.

Restaurants, supermarkets, and clothing stores ran past us, as he calmly drove fifteen miles per hour.

"We will find an unsuspecting motel, change into our outfits, get an idea of where we will shoot our movie, and go to Australia," I explain.

Austin grinned as he passed by a black Chevy.

"Great thinking, " he says. "but where are we going to find a motel at this hour?"

Austin glanced around the car windows, seeing nothing but highways, traffic jams, and bending roads.

"Let's park somewhere safe," I say. "then we can sleep in the car for the night."

Austin continued driving down Mariner Boulevard, then turned right on Jameson Drive.

As his feet pressed steadily against the gas pedal, Austin's curly brown hair fluttered wildly in his face.

Dark eyes steadied themselves on the concrete road as Austin takes a careful turn through Opal Street.

Steering away from houses, restaurants, and other establishments, I continued gazing at my right window, when I noticed a McDonald's building approaching us.

It was a small restaurant with windows covered in meal advertisements, a roof with the color of deep crimson, and two glass doors, which people can easily enter and enjoy the greasy delicacies.

And to top it all off, next to the restaurant was a large, black pole which has the famous, big, yellow M attached on its firm tip.

Examining McDonald's from a distance, Austin had an idea that we should park there for the night.

I give him an unsure look.

Even though I agree with his idea, I wasn't certain McDonald's would allow runaway teenagers to sleep in their empty parking spaces.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

Austin nods, then shrugs his shoulders. "Well, why not?"

Gently turning right, Austin entered the smooth, gray trail which leads to the restaurant, and parked on the curb—just inches away from MacDonald's.

After shutting off the car, he finally takes the keys out of the ignition, opened up his backpack, then pulled a thick, blue quilt fit for a royal couple.

Later on, as he dumped the car keys into the coin holder, Austin threw the blanket over our bodies and watched as the blue fabric shivered in the air then bathed us with its warmth.

"Wow," I smirked, snuggling against my chair. "this is so comfy."

Austin nodded.

"I know," he agreed. "Kristy and Olivia got it for me on my fourteenth birthday."

I smirked. "They seem very nice."

He snorted a laugh.

"Yeah, " Austin chuckled. "They are."

Then looking up at the gray ceiling, he added, "they can be embarrassing at times, but Kristy and Olivia are the best moms in the world."

"Embarrassing?" I ask, staring at him. "What do you mean by that?"

Austin rolled his eyes. "Jack, my moms are obsessed with you."

"Really?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah," he repeated. "they think you are brave, bold, and a great role model—and besides, Kristy is hoping for me to marry you." 

"I am not a role model," I chortled. "I mean, I can be bossy and cynical, but I can never be an example for girls."

Austin smirked. "It's true you are bossy and cynical, but you are compassionate, driven, and loyal to others. That's a trait."

I rolled my eyes. "I am loyal to people who don't stab in the back."

"Is that why you don't socialize much?" Austin inquired, tilting his head at me.

"Yeah," I answer. "I don't hang out with people who take me for granted. Assholes, I can easily scare them off, but I am afraid of nice people."

"Why?"

I clenched my fists then stared at my feet.

"Because one minute they earn your trust, and the next, they turn your hopes and dreams into a public spectacle."

Austin frowned again. "I am not going to hurt you, Jack."

I sighed and scratched my head.

"I know," I agreed. "you are one of the few people who are too honest and too good in this shitty world."

"The reason why I am telling you this is not that I trust you, but because one day, you are going to face this hateful world alone, and you need to be prepared for anything that is coming in your way."

Placing my right hand on Austin's shoulder, I added, "That is what best friends do: they stick together and learn from each other's perspectives."

Like an inexperienced student, Austin nodded attentively to my lessons.

"Okay," he said solemnly.

"You can be a nerd sometimes," I advise. "but understanding how the world works can be an asset. Use it."

"Yes, ma'am," Austin replied.

I raise my index finger at him. "When we get to the airport, I am going to teach you lessons on how to be smart and careful."

Austin nodded silently.

"Now, I am going to sound like a bitch to you," I warned.

"You are going to think that I am ruthless, or whatever, but I want you to know that what I am saying to you, can help you in the future. Got it?"

Austin nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

I smiled. "Good, now get some sleep, Picasso."

He smiled back, wrapped himself in covers, and shut his eyes.

"Good night, Shakespeare."

Cuddling under the sheets, I rolled over to the right side then fell asleep. As I slept peacefully, I never felt so happy to be free from Joseph's wrath.

He yearned to destroy what was left of me, but because of Elle Jones, I escaped, grabbed Austin, go to Australia, and dumped Elle Jones' ashes into the Tasman Sea.

But now that I am thinking about Australia, I thought about Austin.

If we continue this journey, would Kristy and Olivia hate me for tagging their son along?

What if Joseph sends a search party after us?

Will he know what I am about to do?

Is Warren Cole going to tell him about my manners during his grandmother's funeral—the one where I talked back to him?

Scared by these intense questions, I closed my eyes tighter then sighed.

Tomorrow morning, I have decided that Austin and I should get breakfast, drive to the airport, and go to Australia.

If the traffic isn't too shitty, then we will find a hotel and plan the movie scenes until further notice.

Curling in my car seat, I rubbed my cheek against the mint-scented leather and took another deep breath.

The soft quilt comforted me, like a wave of  Isadora's vanilla perfume. Relaxing my tense eyes, I continued to close my eyes until I drifted off into a deep slumber.