I finally pause the investigative podcast I was listening to, pile my long black hair into a messy bun, and push open the door of my car, still not taking my eyes off the beautiful colors painted before me in the sky as the sun sets over the ocean.
The scent of the ocean assaults my nose immediately. Fish and salt mixed together. I can't say I'm a huge fan of it.
But I can't complain. If I do a three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn, I don't see a single photographer around. Nobody is hiding in the bushes, ready to catch me in a weird shot that they can manipulate and twist to fit their story.
That, unfortunately, has been my life with a highly publicized tycoon father and a socialite mother.
If it weren't for the fact that I look like an exact mix of my parents; my father's black hair and full lips, and my mother's hazel eyes and nose shape, I'd think that I was switched at birth with how different I am from them.
Don't get me wrong, I did live that life –the one they do. I went to the parties. I posed for the pictures. I dated the well-known men . . . But I hated every second of it.
My phone pings in my hand, and I take a quick moment to lean against my car and check all the messages I received while driving.
My stomach instantly fills with dread when I see the first message.
Dad: Dinner at the Matron on Saturday night. I expect you to smile more this time.
Stanley Murdoch is not a nice man to most people, and the fact that I never told him I was leaving is not something that is likely to go over smoothly. Sure I've threatened it several times, but I never actually followed through.
This time I did. But I definitely didn't make a stop by my parent's place to say goodbye or even let them know.
I've told them numerous times that I was sick of it all and that I wanted to leave. They probably just thought I was having some sort of tantrum. It was never that, though. I refuse to continue on with a life that makes me more and more miserable with each passing day.
I drop my chin to my chest and try to remind myself that I'm a grown woman who is twenty-six freaking years old, and I should be able to live my life however I want.
With that thought in mind, I look back to my phone and read the other messages on my phone.
Candace: Are you going to the party Friday night? Can you get me in?
Megan: Heard the papz will be at that brunch on Sunday. We should go.
Tony: Did you talk to your dad for me?
There are several more like that that I don't even bother checking. Instead, I block them all except for my father, and put my phone away again.
Fakes. Liars. Users.
I've been surrounded by fake people, fake friends, and fake boyfriends my whole life. All of them just trying to get ahead by using me and my family's publicity.
I had actually liked the most recent boyfriend, Nathan. Enough that when he said we should get married and make our families happy, I actually considered it. I'm glad I never actually agreed to it, though.
I suck in a deep lungful of the salty air and walk toward my new home. I picked this small beach town to begin a new life away from everyone and everything. Barely a dot of the map, it seemed like the perfect place to breathe, to start fresh, to be free.
Some of the stones on the path shift under my feet as I walk to the front door and I can't help but think about how much my mother would hate that. Not me.
A smile touches my lips as I look around. Beautiful wildflowers grow along the path, and I absolutely love wildflowers.
Peace and quiet surround me, sinking into my bones, and at the same time, a lifetime of stress and always being 'on' is purged out through my skin.
Thisis what I was craving.
My new home is at the very end of the street and is along the beach side of the road. It's also the smallest in this area.
Sure, I could have gotten one of the bigger ones that are around here, but this suits me just fine.
I've never cared much about having money. I'm sure I would probably think a little differently if I didn't grow up with more than I could ever spend, but I can't change that fact.
It's also true that having money has allowed me to escape and buy this house which has the ocean as the backyard; not many people can say that.
