Chapter 1 Greyson

I 'm fine.

Everything's fucking fine .

But I'm starting to think that might actually be the problem. I'm tired of the same routine every single day. Wake up. Shower. Gym. School. Homework. Run. Bed. Repeat.

Over and over and over and over and over again.

Most of my life has been normal, boring, and predictable, and I used to love every single unexciting moment. I liked waking up knowing exactly what I had to look forward to.

I think a lot of that has to do with my early childhood. The unpredictability of my early years formed the stability I craved later in life.

Being in the foster care system until I was eighteen taught me many things. It taught me that not all people who pretend to be angels are good, and promises are often empty words. I moved around constantly as a kid, bouncing from home to home. Some weren't that terrible, and some were born from nightmares.

Oftentimes, food was used as a weapon and an enforcing tool. There were times I spent days without eating as their form of punishment, or where I was only fed canned dog food for a week because I was behaving like a "rabid animal." Mind you, my "rabid behavior" was leaving toys out after I was done playing with them. To be honest, I think those foster parents never truly wanted to help kids rather than be handed a human punching bag and a check.

If it were up to me, those homes and those "parents" would be burned to the ground. I was forced to learn at a very young age that no one in this world is looking out for me, and the only person who can protect me is myself. Learning on my feet was a skill I quickly acquired.

Shortly after living in my first abusive foster home, I learned to stash food any and every chance I got. If I got a treat at school, I would tuck it into my pocket to save and take home for a time when I would need it.

That was one of many things I would come to realize about the real world we live in. I became so closed off and guarded that when I moved into my final foster home at sixteen, under the guardianship of a sweet elderly woman named Cheryl, I didn't know how to relax, and I didn't know how to trust her.

She bathed me in compliments and promises, and I didn't believe a single one of them. I couldn't. It would be like setting myself up for failure when she would inevitably turn on me.

But over the course of my first year with her, she earned my trust. She showed me I could just be a kid in her home. I could relax and switch out of fight or flight mode. I didn't have to keep secret stashes of food; I could go into the pantry whenever I pleased. For the first time in years, I didn't have to sleep with one eye open.

There wasn't a lock on my bedroom door to keep me inside until she decided she was ready to tolerate me for the day. I was free to move about the house when I wanted.

She was the greatest person I've ever known and ever will. Since she came into my life, I've wanted to do better and be better. I want to be successful and make her proud. Even if she's no longer alive to see it.

She picked up this tattered and cruel teenage boy from the dark trenches where the world spit him out and saw through the anger and coldness. Cheryl was selfless, kind, and generous to a fault. I know that without her, my life would look drastically different.

But because of her, and only her, I'm finishing up my last year at Saint Eldritch University. She would have loved to see this, to see the dreams we imagined together coming true.

The beautiful and foggy Saint Eldritch is tucked away in the deep pine forests of Massachusetts, the nearest town of significant size being over two hours away. So, thankfully, they have everything I could need.

The shops and homes all have unique designs with character, and no expense seems to have been spared for their architecture. Trees decorate the land, lining the dark concrete sidewalks. Everywhere you look, something new is there to mesmerize you. Sometimes this place seems too good to be true. Too perfect . In my defense, anything I've ever experienced that was too good to be true ends up being just that.

This town has been my home for the last six years, two spent with Cheryl and three and a half in dorm rooms and eventually an apartment.

After Cheryl passed, I was all alone with two thousand dollars to my name. All I had were the dreams we discussed together—I would go to school, get a reliable job, and focus on the good in the world instead of always dwelling on the bad. Which is exactly what I've done since we said goodbye.Nothing will stand in my way of honoring her and the plans we made.

The two thousand dollars I had dried up pretty quickly. To make money on the side, I started a part-time job on campus in the library.

After all, reading has always been my true passion, and I dreamed of maybe writing one day. But that was the opposite of reliable income, never knowing if people will be interested in your work. So I pursued finance instead. I don't really enjoy it, but I'm good at it.

As my schoolwork became more demanding, I left my job at the library. I was frugal enough with my money that I've saved up enough to go without a job for my final semester of school, allowing me to focus all of my effort into my studies My goal for myself with a little extra time on my hands is to start running new routes and exploring more during my late-night runs. Typically, I run the same four-mile path every single night. But lately, I've been wanting to try something new.

Some people need constant social interaction to be happy. I, myself, am not one of those people.

Even more so when it comes to my roommate, Steven Johnson. If it wasn't for the lease, I would have moved out the week after I signed it because he's the absolute worst person to live with. He's messy, lazy, selfish, and can't take any accountability if his life depended on it. Aside from running into him in passing, I avoid any interaction because all it does is piss me off.

The second our six-month lease is up, I'm out of there and finding a place of my own. The only reason I even agreed to move in with him was that I was tired of living in the dorms and wanted to save a little money by splitting rent with someone instead of paying it all myself.

I've put up with a lot of his shit over the last couple of months, but today was a breaking point. My day was already shit from almost being taken out via vehicular manslaughter, to dropping my phone into a muddy puddle, and then coming home to a trashed house from him throwing a party in the middle of the day. I tried avoiding it and going into my bedroom in hopes of isolating myself in there, but that panned out horribly because I found a couple passed out in my bed. Naked .

Fuck, I swear I've never felt anger pulse hotter in my veins like it did at that moment. I wanted to beat the living fuck out of him for letting people into my room. But I didn't have any energy left and stormed out instead. He was drunk and a mess. I wanted him completely sober when I came back to deal with him.

Who knows when later is going to come, though, because I haven't stopped walking since I slammed my apartment door behind me over two hours ago, traveling the quiet streets of Saint Eldritch.

Running in the evening and nighttime has always been a way to center myself and relax, since I was young. I like feeling the wind blow against my skin and watching the night sky darken and illuminate with stars, the ones we can see in town, at least.It the one thing I have complete control over.

The cool breeze flitters through my long-sleeve flannel button-up, flinging it open and exposing my tan hoodie beneath. Taking a slow and deep inhale, I step through a puddle, my Converses soaking through from the surprising depth of water. Great . Add it to the list of shitty things that are happening today.

I'm fine.

Everything's fucking fine .

Running my hand down my face, I sigh. I'm tired of being just fine. I want to be good, great even, ecstatic if that's even possible. I can't tell you the last time I felt adrenaline pulse through my body. I can't tell you the last time I felt alive and not like a robot going through its preprogrammed motions.

For a long time, having a fine day was the goal in life. Having a day where I ate enough food, drank enough water, and slept in a safe and comfortable bed. It may sound like the bare minimum, but to little dreaming Greyson who slept beneath his bed to avoid the real-life monsters, this was all he ever hoped for.

Guilt rakes down my chest from the mental complaint of my mundane life, knowing that so many others have it worse, including my past self. My palms sweat for taking a decent day for granted.

But that guilt is battling the burning desire for something more . Something that makes my heart skip a beat, my lungs sharply inhale. I crave excitement and passion, and for the longest time, those were two things I never knew I could have. But I think I finally realize that I'm well within the means of creating my own adventure. I just need a reason to jump off of the edge and chase it.

"Greyson, is that you?" a voice calls out behind me, sounding vaguely familiar.

Turning my head and peeking around the side of my hood, I spot one of my classmates, Ben Davies.

"Hey, Ben. What's up?" I ask, stopping and turning completely around to face him and his friend walking beside him.

"You alright?" Ben's brows furrow. "Rough night?"

"Is it that obvious?" I chuckle hauntingly, wishing I had shielded my emotions better, a pit deepening in my stomach. I'm usually very good at hiding my thoughts, aside from right now, I suppose.

He nods and thankfully changes the subject. "This is Joey Holmes, my best friend. We're going to grab a drink. Are you heading somewhere?"

Joey extends his hand. "Nice to meet you, man."

I take it, shaking once before releasing it. "You too. And no, I'm just walking, clearing my mind."

Ben walks forward, passing by me without a word as Joey hurriedly catches up. A good ten feet stretch between us as I stay rooted in the cement, and they charge forward a few more feet before Ben spins around with a smirk on his face.

Ben chuckles. "Well, let's go. Clearly, you need a distraction. C'mon, what are friends for?"

Friends.

I don't know if I would consider us friends because we don't see each other outside of class. But he's a cool guy overall, and we joke around in lectures occasionally.

Taking a slow inhale, I force the air out in one quick breath as my heart tries to break through my ribcage.

I'm done playing it safe, and I mean it.

I'm craving excitement like a hunger so deep in the pit of my stomach, in a wretched and dark corner that's never been fed. I'm starving for something more in life, and I'm finally going to take it.

Fuck it.

Stepping forward onto the wet sidewalk, I take a deep breath, the freshest one I have in a long time. "I'm coming."