Is this where it all happens? “Turn left here.” Blaine said, I pulled the car into the driveway of his farm. It was out in the middle of nowhere, just grain bins surrounding us. I turned off my car and then the headlights. I could see nothing. It was pitch black. Then he made the move. He whispered, “Get in the back seat babe.” Nervously I sat in my driver’s seat, then without thinking, I crawled into the back, not saying a word, my palms sweating. He kept trying and trying and trying, I kept repeating to myself “No.” “It’ll be okay Amelia,” he said. Peer pressure always gets to me. I don’t even like this guy. But why am I doing this with the captain of the high school football team? He was about six foot two and skinny. His hair drifted across his forehead and it was always brushed and neat. He has pretty brown eyes and his eyelashes were long.Our lips kept touching and all my brain could think about is why? And is he really single?

Afterward, I drove to Marline's; I kept receiving messages from him saying “I don’t even like you. Don’t tell anyone and delete our messages. I still love my ex.” My stomach dropped, my mouth opened and all I responded was “Okay.”

Within a week it was the gossip at school. People I wouldn’t even talk to walked up to me and asked if what they heard was true. Why is it their business? I know they wouldn’t expect it because I am an officer for many clubs. But if I wanted everyone to know, might as well of made an announcement. “Friends” would open their mouths when I told them, even when I told them not to say anything.

I always worry about my appearance and what others think of me. Every day I have something new to bring myself down. Why would anyone want to be with me? Am I even good enough? I always worry about who I am and how I am viewed. Worry to me is like a toilet paper super glued to the bottom of my shoe. Always there, nothing to get rid of it; no matter how much I tried. Even though my friends tell me all the time that I am pretty, beautiful, smart, I just felt like they said that to make me feel better. It rarely worked.
That Thursday, after he had ignored me all week, Blaine finally talked to me in English class: “Amelia give me a pencil because I don’t have one!”
He already used me once, now he wants me to lend him MY pencil? Who does he think he is? There is no reason I should let him barrow one.
“You should have brought your own.” I’m not giving him anything anymore, how does he not get that?
“Seriously Amelia.”
“Well maybe next time you’ll learn to bring your own. Not my fault; ask someone else.”
“Whatever.”
Everyone in class stared in awkward silence, listening to Blaine and I argue.
“Why does he have to be mean?” I said, under my breath.
As Blaine looks over to see me and something hits him in the eye.
“Was that really necessary?”
“Well there’s the pencil, figured if you really wanted it, it wouldn’t matter how you got it.”
“Why was I even wanting to do what I did with her?” Blaine said loud enough for me to hear. “If I knew it was going to end up like this I wouldn’t have even done it.”
“How pathetic can you get about this?” Blaine shouted.
“How pathetic can you be, going around trying to sleep with all the girls in school?”
Did I really just say that in front of everyone? Something seemed to be lifted off my chest and it felt good for once. He had nothing to say about what I had just said, and everyone in the class room just chuckled and returned to their work.

As my worrying kept growing and growing, stress became like a sponge expanding in hot water. Even though my Dad and my best friend have always been there for me, I always feel like its not enough. The need for their affection increased but I always worried if it was ever going to come. In my mind, all I needed was a guy. A guy to love me, and hold me when I cried. That would make it all better. Why me? Why do I not have a relationship when everyone else around me does?”
“You’re only seventeen. You still have awhile to live. You’re rushing too fast,” my dad said.
“I want a guy now, though!” I yelled tears slowly rolling down my face.

Small talk spread around school for at least another week. It even got to Facebook. It was all over my friends newsfeed... even my families. Within a week I could tell my Dad was suspious and acting differently. He asked me, "Sweatheart, is there something you need to talk about?" I responded with a "No." But he knows me and he somehow found out what I did. He said he would always find things out, even if I didn't end up telling him. And since my Dad knows maybe my other family knows to. What am I going to do with myself? People in my family think I am a good kid, and I rarley do anything wrong.

That next day Dad asked if he could talk to me after supper. I had been mopping around the house and I didn't feel the same ever since the incident with Blaine. Dad said “Give me your keys.”

Having my car and being able to drive was one of the most important things to me, other than my phone. If I don't have my car, I will just have to sit around the house and act like I love everything and everyone, even when my parents give me dirty looks. And I hate just sitting there, being looked at. I made the decision. It was time to run away from home. Start a new life, forget about everything.

As I packed my bags, suitcases and some extra money I had saved up, I just sat on my bedroom floor and started to cry. Forgetting about my family would probably be one of the hardest things I have ever done, and would be a way harder decision than anything I could have done with Blaine. I thought to myself am I really going to have this sitation bring me all the way down? I had mixed emotions about all of this, but maybe starting this “new life” wouldn't be that bad. Late that night, I snuck out. I walked down the long hallway filled with family pictures, everyone smiling. It was nothing like it was now. I started to walk on my tippy toes until I reached my parents room.I creeked opened the door, they were snorring. I saw a glipse of my Dad, the spickle of gray that started to show in his mushtache. I got a big sniff of the vanilla scent house one more time and climbed down the ladder, I put up my bedroom window and started the journey; not knowing what was going to come next.