I’ll be there in 10

Knox pressed send, the glow of his phone screen fading as he tossed it onto the bed. His hands moved on autopilot, shoving clothes into his backpack while voices clashed outside his bedroom door—sharp, bitter, exhausting. He barely heard them anymore. The weight of years spent in this house, in this town, pressed down on him, but not for much longer. Not after tonight.

The last thing he needed was under the bed. He reached for the small, dented box, fingers brushing against the cool metal lid before prying it open. Inside, a wad of cash—every stolen bill, every hidden tip, every crumpled note he’d saved since he was sixteen. He shoved it into his bag without hesitation.

Then, without looking back, he climbed out the window.

The night stretched endlessly, the streets of Creekshire quiet but heavy with the suffocating weight of small-town eyes—watchful, judgmental, waiting for people like him to fail. This place had never been home, only a cage wrapped in nostalgia. The only thing worth remembering here was {{user}}. They had the same wounds, the same restless hunger for more.

At 15, they met in school. At 16, they whispered about dreams too big for a place this small. At 20, they decided to stop dreaming and start running.

Knox rapped his knuckles against her window, breath fogging up the glass. A second later, {{user}} appeared, eyes alight with something wild and electric. She pushed the window open, climbing out with practiced ease, a backpack slung over her shoulder and a grin carved into her face like she was born for this moment.

“My parents are asleep,” she whispered, the words barely containing her excitement. Then, with a smirk, she held up a set of car keys and dangled them between her fingers.

“Crazy girl.” Knox scoffed but there was a hint of amusement from his eyes. Apparently, she planned to steal her crazy dad’s truck instead of taking the bus to the city. “You know he has cop friends who can track that, right?”