"In this morning's news, a teenage girl named Kylie Kelso has gone missing. Authorities are unsure if this is a kidnapping or a case of running away, but there is very likely to be a young male traveling with her who parents say is likely her boyfriend known as Aiden Jacobson, who goes under the alias "Cyrus" locally. Pictures of the two teens will be shown momentarily. Aiden Jacobson can and may be violent with affiliations to local gang members. If you spot either of these teens, please try not to intervene and call the Micah County Police Department."
"My, Jarrod, I'm sure this one echoes with parents of teenage girls. Their worst nightmare has to be their young daughter running off with a boy doing who-knows-what. He could be hurting her in some way. The poor thing. . ."
"Yeah, Gina. It is. As a father myself, I had a few run-ins with guys like this. Girls seem to have this idea that problem children are cool. Little do they know what their future may end up like if that line of thought doesn't get fixed!"
"Poor girl. . .she's so beautiful, too. Hopefully she doesn't get hurt by him. Remember folks, Aiden Jacobson could be violent. So, if you see him, please call MCPD right away.
Now onto this morning's other news. . ."
+ + + + +
Two months had passed since that report had hit the news, and then further made itself somewhat viral. Some supported the decision, of the belief that this was wholly consensual - others just entirely disagreed on other premises such as religion. Reading the paper was especially entertaining, and watching TV when we could also had its benefits. Such as the pictures they had been using, and the descriptions of us both.
After overcharging on the weed I had with me, we had enough money to change our appearances. After buying the products, we had found a ratty motel that let us in for next to nothing. Sure, it looked horrible, but it had been cheap and never asked for identification of any kind. This clearly worked in our favor, allowing us to change our looks up. Kylie had went from a brown to a potent dark red and I had bleached and dyed mine to a light blonde. It had worked for the most part, as Kylie hadn't wanted to bleach her hair. At the end of the day, she had looked different enough to pass as someone else.
Following a few days of staying at the ratty motel, I had offered a deal to the owner. In return for letting us stay free in the nicest room and fair cut of the profits, he would let me grow my weed on the roof of one of the storage rooms. It had only taken him a moment of thought for him to agree, and it was there that we had a small partnership begin. Nothing huge, just a simple partnership that worked for the both of us. It was nothing more and nothing less than money being made on both sides.
As mentioned, two months had passed since we changed our identities and practically moved into the motel following that news report. Aside from the bud growing situation, it had been a pretty seamless transition for the both of us - though it had been clear that Kylie was missing someone - that someone had likely been her sister. They did have a closer relationship than most, in the sense of emotions at least. Kylie and I had been better than I originally expected, though I knew I had gotten lucky with the motel owner. Most wouldn't have touched it with a ten foot pole. It was risky, for sure.
"Holy shit. Your hair is getting long. . ." she began to brush my hair, for some reason or another, as I sat at the foot of the bed smoking a small joint. "It looks good on you, like a model or something."
"Ew. . .Please kill me if I ever become a model." I nearly choked on the smoke.
"Ew? I think you'd be sexy prancing around with long hair in Calvin Klein underwear." I could hear her speaking through a grin the size of Jupiter.
Kylie scooted forward, proudly showcasing a pair of legs that looked just as great in those tight little jeans she painted on as she sat next to me in just a shirt and underwear. Stealing the joint from me, she had walked over to the dresser and pulled a drawer open as she had appeared to look for some clothes. While I had preferred Kylie as a brunette, she definitely didn't look bad as a redhead. However, at its root, the changed colors of our hair only served as a reminder of what we did.
Both of us had known that what we did wasn't fair, to us or to anyone involved. It was nothing but selfish, yet we had been happy. We didn't have a whole ton of things aside from a roof and a bit of extra money, but we had been happy, and I'm sure she felt the same. That was the whole reason we left to begin with, to be happy and leave behind the people who had wanted us apart.
At the same time, it would've been blind to say that we weren't robbing ourselves from an education and from the people who did support us. We were together, yet completely and entirely alone. It was just the two of us, and I was just fine with that, even if it that meant us being against the entire world. What struck me more than anything had been the way people were set in their ways once they chose them. Her father chose not to like me, and thus hadn't liked me. I promised Kylie I would find a way, and I had done just that.
While we didn't have the best living situation on the planet, we also weren't homeless. While we weren't eating gourmet french dinners, we still filled our stomachs with food to eat. What I felt mattered more than anything was that she was there with me, and I was sure she felt the same way. Things like quality of life or food never mattered to us in the gist of things, what existed in our world had just been so much more important.
"Didn't someone ask for an ounce?" Kylie asked, pulling out a pair of shorts and underwear. "When are they coming?"
"Probably any minute no-" I was interrupted by a knock. "Speakin' of the devil."
Opening the door, I found a guy a little older than us standing there quietly. Dressed in black, his hair hung over one eye as a tattoo traveled up and over his Adam's Apple. He had looked like a vocalist for some metal band, and I guessed I was probably right. As he glared over my shoulder with his one visible eye, he made it more than obvious that he was looking at Kylie.
"Your girl?" he asked as I offered him inside, he kicked the door shut behind himself.
"Pretty much." I responded, filling the bag with some Marijuana. "What do you need this much bud for?"
"Nothing big. My band is going on a small tour, and we smoke a bit here and there." he had answered more I honestly than I expected. "And what about you two? Aren't you a little young to be here alone and selling weed?"
Kylie, who changed as I was weighing the weed, had approached the customer. She looked up at him silently, almost as though she was questioning herself and everything she believed was real. Instead of speaking, she had walked back to the ashtray and lit the joint I put out moments ago - acting as if he hadn't existed. Snickering, he slightly shook his head.
While Kylie had never been rude or mean to people, she had sometimes been something of an oddball. If she hadn't understood them, she would get closer and study the said person. Sometimes it had come off a little rude, but she had never meant anything by it - and he hadn't seemed to be offended by. Rather, it seemed he had been used to it.
"She's sort of weird like that. Don't take it personally." I remained distant, adding emphasis to weird as a slight poke at Kylie. "Well, here you are."
"Yeah." he opened his wallet and pulled out the cash. "I have to ask, but feel free to say no. Are you two those runaway kids that were on the news a while back? You guys look kinda like them."
"We've gotten that before, but no." I brushed my hair back. "We're just a pair of fuck-ups selling some weed and trying to make some money."
Smiling, he nodded. Maybe he had believed me, or maybe not. Maybe he hadn't believed it, but hadn't planned on saying anything. As I opened the door, he made a slow exit as he seemed to be thinking about something. He turned and then opened his jacket, pulling out a flyer that had shown a list of times, and a few random names I had never heard of. Had this been a concert flyer?
"You guys should swing by and listen to some music." he smirked. ". . .and I think I know some people who could help you out with your disguises."
**
Hours after he had left and hours of Kylie begging us to go, I had finally submitted and agreed - much to the dismay of my own instincts. Something had given me a bad feeling, like a pinch to the back of the head. It had barely been there, and I hadn't really noticed it but for a second. Yet, it should've been a clear warning to me - and one I should have listened to.
"The flyer said acoustic, right?" Kylie asked. "He didn't look like he did acoustic music."
Lighting a cigarette, I exhaled the smoke. "You can't judge a book by it's cover. I mean, look at you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kylie playfully pushed.
"That you look like a beautiful, stuck-up brat, but are actually a massive stoner who curses a lot." I took her hand. "Doesn't matter, though. Either one is fine wit-"
Before I had even finished my sentence, all I had felt was a vicious collision and spark of white in my eyes. What I had assume to be seconds later, I found myself on the ground dizzier than hell and my head pounding. What had I been hit by, a damn car? As the side of my head had continued to throb, I pushed myself off of the ground only to feel blood starting to fall.
It was been so quick and violent that there had been no way for me to realistically defend myself. I hadn't even heard footsteps coming, nothing. All I had known was that something hit my face - and hard, at that. It had been when I stood, however, that I had received my answer. Come to think of it, the whole thing had been pretty obvious. It just hadn't been obvious enough to suspect. Maybe we had just gotten too comfortable.
The person who hit me was none other than her brother.
ns 15.158.61.46da2
