Inside there was a set of stairs that led to a lower floor and two doors. We took the second one on the opposite wall of the door leading to the balcony. Inside it was sparsely decorated, an old brown/beige painting and a matching convertible couch/bed. there was a door on the left leading to what I presumed was a bathroom, and there were not other exits other than the door we came out from. There was a window with bars bolted across. "Lock the door," My father said, to nobody in particular. I was just about to grasp the handle when all of a sudden, the door swings opened and in steps a middle-age security guard.
We tried reasoning with him but it was no use, a cordless phone magically appeared and he spoke directly to the charging station. We made a run for it. However living in a small town, it was inevitable that we would be found. And as they questioned my parents in the dinning room of our own house, I laid quietly upon the couch with my grandmother now hushing me, to remain quite and flat. For what seemed like seconds or maybe hours I laid there. The security cops, now have taken my parents away and my remaining family members unanimously decided that the next course of action was to send me back to school, to live as a fugitive.
In school I was constantly trying to avoid, a girl, my friend, Izzy, because she obviously knew all the shit that when down, and I though, as paranoiacally as it sounds that she was going to send me back to my state, to be prosecuted. Eventually after an elaborate scheme of escaping her, that involved climbing up to the top of my dorm's roof, using plastic rope, a match-box and several strands of blond hair, I ironically bumped into Izzy. She had a sorta longer bob cut, and had wavy beach curls that cascaded, progressively blonder and almost white at the tips. "I promised not to tell anyone," she whispered, "Someone else is however..." and with that she walked away.
And then, I woke up.
LOL,
Ez
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