Escape

Prologue

"I know, Sarah! I'm on my way now! Can you cover for me? Please?," I shouted through the phone. I threw on jeans, a cropped shirt, and my leather jacket and boots. I ran out the door. I revved the engine of my motorcycle an drove my way to my coffee shop.

    I parked my 10,000 dollar Harley and walked like a badass into my workplace. A few customers were there and  I still caught every employees attention. 

It was as modern and as nice as it could get. I had bulletproof glass installed on some walls, top of the line brewers. Granite counters. Obsidian floors. And, last but not least, a whole wall full of hardback books of every genre. This place is my heaven. Or at least, it was. 

'Why are they standing around?' I thought to myself.

"Get to work!" They jumped in unison and went back to work.

I laughed to myself. It's always fun watching them squirm.

"Hey, Adam!" 

The pretty young boy rushed over to me.

"Yes," he said with eagerness. 

"I need to run to a meeting with another shop, can you take care of things here?"

"Yes, o-of course." He tried to act cool but his expressions betrayed him.

"Alright, thanks. Keep them in check." I rushed back out the door, this meeting was important

I stopped half-way there.

"Oh, and Adam, whenever I leave,  just know you're always in charge whenever I'm gone." 

I pushed through the glass doors. I jumped on my bike and sped down the streets. 

I can never begin to describe the feeling of riding my motorcycle. Every time I ride her, I fall in love a little bit more. The wind in my face, trying desperately to get through my helmet. It feels like freedom. Like I'm completely and utterly free. Nothing holds me down. Not even gravity. The fear of dying doesn't cross my mind once. I'd been in an accident before, and I lost an arm, but that doesn't phase me. I have a cool metallic arm, its light and gives me the maximum level of badass. 

I pulled off the highway, making my way to the second coffee shop I owned. My parents were coffee-holics. I probably owe my love of coffee to them too. Anyway, my dad came from a rich family, and he bought a bunch of coffee shops. By rich, I meant billionaire rich. As he has a ridiculous amount of money. But that doesn't matter. But, it does prove useful. As in, I never had to go to college. 

I pulled up to the less-fashionable but still amazing caffeine fuel shop. I walked in got two cups of coffee, drunk one, completed a few check-ups and left. I never really have to be there. I got back on my bike and drove to the University of Harvard. My little brother attends there. He's always been the smartest one in the family. It's annoying, ESPECIALLY  since he's only 17.  Edythe's powerful engine caught a few glances but I didn't care. 

(Edythe is the name of my motorcycle)

I knew exactly what class he was in, so I ran in, VERY RUDELY interrupted, and shouted: "OMG, DANIEL RADCLIFFE IS ON THE QUAD!"

Every. Single. Person. In that room ran outside, even the professor...  Except for my brother, who knew I was lying. He walked towards me, furious. 

"Why must you always make a scene?"

I tried to make a serious face. We both ended up laughing on the floor, holding our stomachs. 

"Why are you here anyway? 

"What, I can't bail my little brother out of  hell once and a while?"

"No, you can. I'm not complaining."

"And I brought you your coffee."

"OHMYGOD! Thank you!'

He began to fake cry. I rolled my eyes and smack him upside the face. "Quit being so melodramatic, drama king."

"So mean," he pouted. 

"Whatever."

We walked out of the University my arm around his neck.

And that's how life was. Carefree. Reckless. It was amazing. 

And I was quickly and intrusively reminded. 

Nothing good lasts forever.

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