Annabelle

It has been a beautiful day at the Oregon coast today, especially on the cliff side overlooking the ocean. I'm standing on top near the edge, gazing down at the rocks when another powerful wave comes crashing against the rough rocky mass.

Breathtaking.

A look at my phone confirms that it's time for me to leave. I carefully climb over the slick surfaces and back to the low fence a few feet away, always careful to keep my camera pressed as close to my chest as possible, like a mother would carry her child. It sounds lame, but I'd be devastated if I broke it.

I can't wait to get home and look at the new pictures on my computer. I'm pretty sure I was able to get some good shots today so I'm excited.

I found this hidden location by accident a while back when I made a few wrong turns trying to meet my best friend Sara at a new coffee shop, and it's been my well-kept secret ever since. For some reason, I just don't want anyone else to know about it. I've never seen anyone else out here, so it just feels like my very own refuge. I come here whenever I need a breather from life, which seems to happen more often lately. Apparently being a 17-year-old high school senior isn't as stress-free as I always thought it would be.

When I get back to the car, I store my equipment safely behind the passenger's seat and turn the radio on. The DJ announces the next song- Jet Valentine's new hit single Don't leave me- weaving slightly unpleasant side comments into his message about the singer and his latest scandal. What a jerk. Jet Valentine might not be my favorite singer either, but the radio host must be having some beef with him the way he talks. Or maybe he's just bitter in general. I'm sure I'll hear all about it when I get home since my sister is Jet's biggest fan. Apparently, she loves him as much as her 14-year-old heart is capable of doing so.

The song starts and I absentmindedly hit the steering wheel to the beat. I put the car into reverse and back out from my makeshift parking spot back onto the dirt road.

The music suddenly fades to the background as a loud crash comes from behind me and I stomp on the brake pedal like it is on fire. Immediately my heart starts racing as if it is competing in a marathon while my lungs are trying to get enough oxygen to compensate for the sudden increase of shallow breaths that I've been taking.

"No, no, no." I cry out, knowing full well what that crash means. I turn around to look out the rear window of my dad's big truck. And sure as hell, there's a car parked to the side of the dirt road. How could I have not seen that? I'm dead. My dad will kill me and I'll never be allowed to drive any car again.

Never. Ever.

Not that it really matters if I'm dead I suppose.

I love my parents, I really do. They are great but so extremely overprotective it's not even funny anymore. It took me almost a year of begging, pleading, and lots of whining for them to finally let me behind the wheel.

I can feel my heart starting to beat even faster now and I'm afraid it might burst out of my chest any second. I think I'm starting to feel a little dizzy too. Isn't that how panic attacks start? Or am I going into shock?

I am going to lose it. Any damn second now.

Paper. I need paper. And a pen or pencil. Just something to write with.

I do the only thing that makes sense to me in this moment. I write my name and number on a piece of paper, wobbling on unsteady feet to the other car. Of course, it has to be an expensive looking shiny black sports car which is now sporting a big visible dent as well. I let out a big sigh and put the folded piece of paper under the windshield wiper.

I let my head fall in shame and walk back to my car.

*****

🙈