NEW TOWN

CHAPTER ONE: New Town

As the rain trickled down in droplets now; her ears perked up at the sound of it crashing the roads in a plop!-plop!-plop! Her mood was depressing that afternoon. Ashley knew the reason for it. It was him; that bastard, Brandon Piers! What a jerk.

She fixed her gaze on the fading purple sky, the flowing gullies, and the gloomy street. The rain had painted its mild lustre on the busy road. The tars shined with glossiness.

That apart, everything was moving too fast. The buildings and the people. They all appeared to be moving at the same pace. Furious fast. And in the opposite direction of her bus. But then it could also be because the vehicle was moving at top speed, maintaining the same acceleration as it had done for the last one hour straight.

This was Bayville.

She was not supposed to carry the skeletons along with her even up to this town. But how could she not? Especially when it hurts?

Her mind was a shambles, but her heart? She simply wanted it to stop. Not completely. But just for a minute, possibly like a latent clock tick; 5. 4. 3. . . and then her heart would just freeze.

But even that was not a simple wish. Yet, it was an illusion borne of wishful fantasy. She could never skip a second of breathing merely for that. . . Brute! The bastard didn't deserve that.

Yes.

Brandon was a pig! Shameless user! A chronic cheat and a heartbreaker!

He did her dirty, without single remorse or even a flinch!

"We fight too often" — he'd locked glances with her, sternly, on the red table where they'd sat on Valentine's evening, that day— "I think we should end things," he'd then declared.

Ashley could not recall him saying that the first time he'd asked her out, to be his girlfriend. Brandon had been a hopeless romantic inside the phone booth some three years before that time. On that day, she had stayed stuck with him for two hours straight, while the skies rained the cats and dogs.

She had loved him then. Call it fast, but she was sure she'd felt something, something deep. And that they'd bonded and that when he'd then asked her to be his girlfriend after, she'd immediately believed his outright intentions. He seemed kind, and for the next three years of their relationship, he had continued to be kind. Charming, reliable, and truthful was how she'd attributed him to be.

Maybe she was wrong, but he'd never given her a reason to doubt that they wouldn't be together for the longest time.

"Why do you want to break up?" She'd said then as a surge of anxiety started to kick at her insides. Her palm had suddenly become sweaty despite the chilly rooftop breeze that serenaded her hair strands. She'd buried her arms beneath the table, pulling at the hem of her sexy red dress.

That night, cosy yet stale, she could no longer smell the fragrance of Valentine in the air. And even though she tried to dispel the fact that she'd heard him loud and clear, the stillness of his otherwise handsome face had told her that he was real. The talk was real, and then he seemed pretty serious about the breakup. Just when she expected him to have a bit of compassion or at best render some type of explanation, he flared up, and then suddenly. . .he was gone.

A wholesome year and three months had passed after that time. But every time it rained, she remembered the prick. But then breaking up wasn't the only thing he'd done to damage her mental strength. No. He was guilty on two other counts.

The first was that he lied about them having too many fights, which from all she could remember, never did happen. Now the second thing was much worse. Brandon had then resulted to date her close friend, Sophia Mores, and throughout her last year in college, he had brandished his love for Sophia before her face, spiting her at every chance he got. And Ashley never really knew why.

Brandon was the meanest bastard in the whole world for treating her like that. Ashley felt she didn't as hell as deserve half of all his tortures— he took Sophia to every treat they'd ever gone to as a couple, making her smell the same roses he bought her, and buying her the same presents he'd gotten her.

And then Sophia. . . guess she was never a friend, to begin with.

Ashley saw that the sky had begun to settle. The sun was coming out. It always evened out her mood. She forced out a smile and then used the hand of her cardigan to wipe off her tears. She was going to let Brandon remain a figment of her past. Just that. And Sophie as well.

Bayville was a new town. Not entirely new since she had visited it before. But that was twelve years ago when she was the age of ten. Then, she had travelled down with her mother to visit the Hattons, the family of her maternal aunt. Aunt Meryl.

Due to the situation of her heartbreak and constantly bumping into those two, traitors, her mom had then given her her blessing to visit the Hattons to spend some time with them. Post-graduation.

"79' Georgeton, anyone?"

Ashley heard the voice of the intercom. But her thoughts were deeper than that. So, she had only heard it faintly.

"Is there nobody who is making a stop at the 79' Georgeton sign?"

The intercom recited again.

This time, it hit her. Loud and clear. Ashley shot up from her seat. "That's me! That's me!"

She picked up her bags in a dart; two brown suitcases and ran up to the front. The many stern faces which looked her over did not hinder her. She reached the side of the coin counter and tossed in some dollar notes.

"Thank you," said Ashley, quickly flipping a turn towards the exit of the bus without looking.

THUD!

She bumped shoulders with someone. Thick. His body was hard as a rock! And her baggage fell from her hands. Both of them.

"I'm sorry," she said.

The man did not seem to care. He looked her up with a cold gaze. Serious eyes. And Ashley felt her feet go numb.

"Why don't you watch your way next time?" said the man, sneering at her. "I detest sloppy girls like you!" he hissed.

Ashley was still held down by his talk. Static, and musing deeply. The man yanked up his bag from the floor, it looked the same as hers. He then pushed his way inside the bus, bruising her side like the snot that he was. He assumed her former seat. There was something dark about him that eluded his features. She stared until the vehicle's horn bellowed first. It told her how she needed to get down now. And fast.

. . .

The bus drove off.

Ashley turned to glance at the little board situated just above her head, at the topmost left corner.

"Well," she said, "I wonder what Bayville will have in store. . ."

She let out a sigh and darted her gaze about the hood.