My dear little broccolis💚💚💚,

💚 So, this is me doing a favour to the same someone who PMed me and asked to upload two of my stories with the FSOG names. I already did it for Forbidden Fruit, and now, here comes the second. The original fic is published under the Mortal Instruments franchise. If you're one of my old readers, well, you already know this story, so only read it if you want to read it with other characters in mind; if you're a new reader, well hang on and let's see how this Ana and Christian work in here.

💚 So, this story like most of my stories will be completely OOC, with drama, and fluff, and cliffhangers (because cliffies are my babies 😝). If you are a fan of my other stories, I can promise you that this one won't go very dark, it's just something kind of light with just enough angst to keep it interesting.

💚 Anyway, enough chitchat, let's enjoy this first chapter, all over again.

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Chapter 1 ~ Goodbye (2K)

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Ana's PoV.

Away. Away seems like the best plan of my life. Away from that asshole that my mother brought upon our house. Away from her, and the way she pretends that everything is fine. Away from this Hell hole, I was living in. And mostly, away from my old self. That poor scared little thing that I was.

I'm a whole new someone now. Or, at least, I can pretend to be. I can pretend to be strong and all, even though deep down, I know that I'm all dead inside. You know. A doll that seems so pretty and nice on the outside, but which is completely empty inside.

And still, I gathered the courage to leave. I could have stayed, I should have stayed. I know I could have kept pretending that it was nothing and that it was normal to endure all those horrible things, but my mother convinced me to go. Of course, right now she thinks that I'm sleeping, safe and sound in my bed. When I say that she convinced me to leave, I mean that her indifference did it for her.

I know she knows what happens behind the walls of my room when her stupid boyfriend comes home drunk out of his mind, but she never defended me. She pretends to be busy elsewhere. At first, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. But that was until I saw her two weeks ago, passing by my room, and silently closing the door when that creep was on top of me.

It all started five years ago. That's right. It took me five years to gather myself the courage to leave. But now, now, I am free. I have been planning to run for quite a while. I happily took the little job my mother found me all the way across town, and I saved all the money; and now, I just have to walk to the next state, and start a whole new life there. Maybe I'll hitchhike for a while. I just need to save the money, as much as I can, so I can't take the bus.

I look at the road, where there is no car to see, and I shrug, keeping on longing the road, and daydreaming. You know, I have this stupid dream. I call it stupid because I know it won't come true. You know, the kind of dream you have when you're a child and you still believe in Santa. When you want so badly the latest Xbox, but you know that in the end, you'll have a Lego puzzle. Except that instead of an Xbox, I want a Dad. My Dad. The one that my mother threw out of her life when she was barely pregnant with me. The poor guy doesn't even know I exist. But that doesn't stop me from hoping.

I keep on daydreaming when I hear the motor of an engine behind me. I stop, internally debating if I should risk hitchhiking, after all; but then, my feet decide for me. They are too tired now to put up with my worries. I spin on myself, settling properly my heavy bag on my shoulders, and I nervously hold my thumb up, half hoping that the driver won't stop. Please don't stop. Please, don't. … Aaaand he's stopping.

The driver rolls the window of his Jeep down, and look at me up and down, a smirk on his face as he says, "Need a lift?"

"No. I was just stretching my thumb on this deserted road," I sarcastically reply, rolling my eyes at the dumb question. The guy chuckles and invites me with a small nod of his head,

"Hop on. At least I can drop you at the next bus station, or something."

I start walking around the car when I start thinking that behind his annoyingly charming smirk, the guy might be a serial killer. It's not that I fear death, it's more that I fear the pain that can come before it. I look at the Jeep, trying to see if it fits that stereotypical serial killer description, but I'm too lame in cars to really know. All I can tell is that the car is nice to look at and that it is a Jeep.

"Serial killers don't look as good as me," He says from his open window, and I scoff at his vanity. I'm sure Narcissus showed more modesty the day he saw his own reflection. But still, I get into his car, against all odds.

"Finally," He heaves when I close the passenger door.

I don't reply anything, not even a polite thank you; and I buckle up my seatbelt, all the while feeling his gaze on me. I repress a shiver, thinking that all men are pigs; and though it is extremely hot, I keep my jacket on. Wouldn't want Narcissus to think I'm trying to seduce him, or something.

He doesn't say anything, and ignites the motor of his car, letting a weird silent grow between us. For a mile, two miles, three miles, he doesn't say anything, and I keep my arms stubbornly crossed over my chest, my knees brought to it. I do feel that more than a few times, he glances at me, a slight frown on his face. But I stay incredibly silent. I've always been good at this game. Staying silent while shit happens to me. So how hard could it be to stay silent when awkward is happening?

"Okay. No offence, but you look like you're going to jump off the first bridge you'll encounter," He suddenly says, his eyes on the windscreen, though I know he glanced at me a few seconds ago.

"Because I'm a girl, and I hitchhiked alone?" I snarl, and he chuckles again. Geez. It's like he doesn't understand sarcasm. That, or he really likes being put back at his place. Meaning far away from my business.

"No," He says, his seriousness suddenly back. "Because your eyes are as empty as the desert of Sahara."

"Well, in that case, I'm completely alright. Many beings live in that desert. Nomads, snakes, camels, scorpions, and so on. You're going to have to think of a better metaphor," I point out, a small smirk growing on my lips.

"What would you have said, then?"

"I would have said that my eyes are as empty as Sarah's stomach," I proudly say, and he turns his head to me, asking,

"Sarah as in 'sterile Sarah, wife of Abraham' Sarah?" I nod, and he rolls his eyes, muttering, "Of course, I had to pick up a crazy religious fanatic."

I chuckle and explain, "It's just because in the end, she still got pregnant. So, it means there's still hope."

He turns his head back at me, surprised by my statement and I look away, feeling uncomfortable under his intense stare. "So, you're an optimist," He says, his eyes back on the road, and I shrug. It's not that I'm an optimist, it's just that I don't want to let myself be brought down by the shits that happened in my life.

"And where do you think this hope that will fill your eyes, is?" He asks, and I automatically reply:

"Next state."

I know that my father used to live there. Okay, it was seventeen years ago, when I was still an embryo in my mother's stomach, but that's still a beginning. And I have his name. So maybe I'll find him, and if not, at least, I will share the state where he used to live.

As the scenery starts being more than empty nothing, the guy suddenly stops his car and turns his head to look at me. I automatically lean a little backward, and his eyes silently analyse my gesture. I'll need to work on my composure. For an agonising long minute, he says nothing; and then, he looks for something in his pockets. When he finds what he was looking for, he gives me a little card and says,

"Just in case you feel lonely in this state, and you need company. Or if you're feeling blue. Don't let the wrath and bitterness take over you, and call me."

"Are you telling me that you're my angel Gabriel?" I ask with a mocking tone, understanding his reference; and he chuckles (I think he chuckled way too much in my presence).

"I'm far from being an angel. I just don't want you to jump."

"I won't," I promise because I know that I won't. If I didn't give into suicide for the past years, now that I am free won't be the beginning of any morbid thoughts.

I glance around, and as I see that I can walk on my own to civilisation, I open the door, saying thank you. I'm about to clack the door shut, when he prevents me from doing so, and ask me, "Your name?"

"My name?" I dumbly repeat, because sometimes I can be very stupid.

"In exchange for the lift. Just your name. It doesn't have to be your full name."

I hesitate a little, but then I decide that my name, just part of my first name, won't be able to do any damage in his hands, "Ana."

He smiles at that. He doesn't smirk, he smiles; and then he tells me, "Have a great life filling your eyes with hope, Ana."

I nod, hesitating on asking his name in exchange. I mean, it's courtesy, right? But before I can decide myself, he closes the door and drives away. So I put my backpack on my back and look at the city rising afar, smiling at it.

New life, here I come.

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💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚

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So, here it is, this first chapter of 'Road Trippin'. The identity of the driver is kept secret in purpose, which is why I didn't describe him. But still, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, whether you're reading for the first time, or you're reading the story all over again with a different perspective.

And, since I'm reading this story all over again, I decided to tell you my little thoughts on each chapter (since I ask you all the time, I think I can at least give you that)

~ For this chapter, what I was mostly aiming for was to show an Ana that is willing to go on with her life, no matter what horrible things happened to her in her past. She is still scared, but she's looking forward to her life, and this is something I like very much in people, the ones who don't let life get them down. Also, I wanted a little suspense in who could be the driver and on what impact or relationship he will have with Ana.

Anyway, E.L James owns the names of the characters from the Fifty Shades franchise, everything else is mine.

Love, Mina 💚💚💚