The Search for Fireworks (ONGOING)

2 ~ The Bus Stop

"That was a great idea, Reilly!" She muttered to herself as she walked down the road, "No cell phone to call a cab. Not even a bloody plan."

Reilly sat down at the bus stop, her legs kicking the pole under the seat in impatience. She wasn't even sure if buses ran this time of night, yet she waited, keeping her eye on her watch.

Nine o'clock.

Ten o'clock.

Eleven o'clock.

"Stupid, stupid city," she grumbled rubbing her frozen legs, "Where are your stupid busses?" She got up and walked over to a telephone booth. It was empty, the phone probably stolen. She swore loudly and kicked the booth hard. Hopping on one leg holding her toe, she muttered more unladylike words, before sitting down at the bus stop again.

Midnight came and went, Reilly, tapping her foot in rhythm with the ticking seconds groaned again.

"I give up!" She shouted at the sky, grabbing her bag she drags her feet back to her bedroom window. She was standing outside the window for the longest time, her heart thumping in her throat when her bedroom door opened suddenly. Reilly shot backwards and pressed her back as close to the wall next to her bedroom as she could get.

"Jennifer!" Her father's voice roared, "She's gone!"

"Maybe she's in the bathroom," her mother's voice chimed in calmly, then they both called: "Reilly?"

After a few seconds, Reilly could hear doors opening, faster and faster as her parent's panic grew.

"She took her laptop and some of her clothes," her mother whispered.

"She left her cellphone," he responded in the same terrified whisper, "Here. Find out who the last person was that she spoke to."

"That damn friend of hers," her mother hissed, they never did like Tianna, she always encouraged Riley to be a free spirit.

"Should we call the police?" Her father asked, his voice filled with worry for his only daughter.

"And tell them what? Our seventeen-year-old daughter ran away because we're trying to force her into a marriage she doesn't want?" She snickered, "Go freeze her bank account, she'll come running back the second she realises there's no money for her."

The door slammed after those words and Reilly heard her father sigh deeply, before opening the door and leaving her room himself.

Tears were streaming down Reilly's cheeks. Her hands were shaking. She knew then that she can't go back there. Not now. Maybe, not ever. Throwing the backpack back over her shoulder, Reilly walked away from her house for the second time that night. This time, she vowed, it will be the last.

It was six o'clock when the first bus came. The sunlight was peeking over the trees and Reilly had to force her legs to move and get onto the bus. The driver's eyes bulged when she gave him a note and told him to keep the change. Reilly smiled at him and shrugged before taking a seat in the back, she didn't know how long she was going to be on this bus, and she didn't want to get chased off.

Her head laid against the glass window bobbed with every bump, but it kept her awake. Her eyes wandering around taking in the early morning streets as they stretch and get ready for the day ahead.

Her eyes lingered on a couple jogging past. They were smiling at each other, happy. Reilly found herself wondering how they met if their parents forced them to get married. Unlikely. The bus stopped at a red light, a different couple drove past, quarrelling. The man had both hands tightly on the steering wheel while the woman screamed at him, her hands flailing.

"Their parents probably forced them to get married," Reilly muttered under her breath.

"Sorry?" An old lady asked from the seat across from her. The lady's face filled wrinkled up when she smiled at Reilly kindly.

"Nothing, just thinking out loud."

"Oh," she said seeming distraught with disappointment, "I thought I heard you say something about being forced into marriage."

"Well, yeah," I shrug, "I did say something like that."

"Well, when I was young-" the lady took off as if Reilly's words were an invitation, she looked so happy to be able to share her story, that Reilly let her continue, "-we had arranged marriage all the time. Some loved it, others were against it. If the one hasn't already given their heart to another, they almost always worked out, you know.

"I was promised to a man before the war," she prattled on, her eyes staring wistfully out of the window, "he died in it, just after we got married, I never truly got to know him. Had a son, though. Beautiful boy, he was. Grew up to fast and left to marry his own wife when he was twenty. I see my grandkids sometimes-"

"This is the end of the line ladies," the bus driver called from the front, mentally praising him, Reilly thanked the lady for her story and practically ran off the bus.

She looked around, taking in all that Silvercrest Central had to offer. The streets were busy. People walking in and out if shops, reminding Reilly of ants scattering when a leaf is dropped in front of them.

"Where to now?" She murmured to herself as she walked down the road, looking into every shop window as she passed. She rubbed her tired eyes in an effort to keep them open, exhaustion setting in quickly.

Her eyes searched the road signs for a motel or student housing, there was only one. It wouldn't have been Reilly's first choice. If she had a choice, that is.

OLD HOG MOTEL, the pealing sign read, the hog barely visible under the lettering. It can only be affordable, Reilly thought as she stepped over rubbish that was strewn across the pathway leading to their entrance.
She frowned up at the bell when it dinged as she opened the gate.

"Welcome to the Old Hog," a creepy looking guy said from behind a counter. His smile showing off a mouth full of teeth that resembled dried corn. Reilly stifled a shudder as she made her way to the counter.

"I need a room," she said politely, her fingers fidgetting with her hoodies strings.

"For how long, Miss?"

"For, uhm, for three weeks, I guess."

"That will be -" he named a number, Reilly riffled in her pocket and took out her money, and gave him the amount he asked for, as tear sprung to her eyes. She was saving up for a car and watching half her savings go into this guys hands broke her heart.

"Your ID, Miss," he asked after putting the money in the register. Reilly's heart stopped beating, she's underage. Buying time, she ruffled through her backpack, when it dawned on her that she had a fake ID in there somewhere. Tianna made her get it with her when she went through her tattooing phase and needed one herself.

She pulled it out and handed it to the guy, smiling at the luck she had. If she had grabbed a different backpack, she'd have been screwed. The guy studied her closely and handed her the key.

"Checkout is at 12 noon, you just leave the key here. You're in lucky number 13, it's two floors up the stairs, second one on the left. Enjoy your stay," with that he turned around and filed the papers that Reilly signed. Dismissed, she made her way up the stairs, dodging holes as she went.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," she muttered as she reached the landing on her floor. She opened my room door and stared at the sight in horror.

It was all brown, and not purposely. The wall was white before it stained brown. The chair looked like a dark shade of orange. The curtains were an off-yellow and were tattered at the bottom.

"This is going to be fun," she muttered to herself, throwing her backpack onto the bed.

"What is?" A man said from the bathroom door. A towel hung loosely from his hips, his hair wet. He obviously just got out of the shower.