This resume is going to be the death of me.

"Do you think it'd be appropriate to put down 'Fluent in sarcasm and telling it like it is. Please hire'? I feel like it's a solid plan."

"Oh yeah, go for it. Let me know when you get the call back," snickered the noise in my ear.

"Yeah, well who even asked for your opinion, Blake? I knew I should have called Taylor instead. At least she would have told me to add other ridiculous things to my resume. Geez, why is it so hard to market yourself?" I continued to stare at my computer screen as I readjusted the phone in my ear.

"Speak for yourself. Not everyone can be as charismatic as me," Blake replied.

"I swear that if you were here right now, you would have earned at least 3 punches in the arm," I said in as intimidating a voice I could muster. Granted, it came out as more of a tired sigh than anything. "You'd think after going to college for a year and a half all you'd really need to put on any sort of resume is 'I've gone to school. I'm educated. I'm not a murderer, I promise. I'm poor, please give me this job.' But no, instead I have to think about everything I've done in the last 5 years and try to not sound like the most boring person alive under 'Skills and Other.'"

"You will be fine. I have faith in you, seriously. Don't worry about it so much. If you don't get the job, then there will be others." His voice had lost its playful tone now, like it always did when I was starting to let anxiety get the better of me.

I spun in my chair a minute. Taking a break from the screen as well as taking a break from thinking about the stress of the future. "Yeah….I know, but wouldn't it be great if there wasn't this stress about the future? Sometimes I just wish I could get away from this. It was so much easier before all this 'adulthood' crap started raining down upon us. It would be amazing to go somewhere and know that I didn't have to worry about work or school the next day."

"I feel ya. However, speaking of responsibility, I need to go get my sister from cheerleading practice. I'll talk to you later." I could tell by his tone that we had clearly ended the "emotional" part of our conversation. Blake and I have been best friends for years, but he'll still shy away from remaining in a deep conversation too long. I don't blame him though, there's not much he can say to anything I talk about, and he knows better to actually say "Get over it," when it comes to my anxiety. So I appreciate the talks we do have when it comes up, no matter how short. He's been with me through a lot, and in return I don't pressure him about his personal things.

"Okay. Drive safe. Try to avoid any flailing high shcoolers attacking you because of your 'older' looks. You're tall, have that great shaggy blonde hair, and those big, brown eyes. What are those girls to do?" I joked. We may be 19 years old, but he's still mad that he has "perpetual baby face" as he calls it.

"Oh shut up. I'm leaving now."

"Classic response. If you get bored later, you can come over. Use the alternate way in if you do, I don't feel like going to the door." Alternate meaning my second story bedroom window.

"Mmm…'kay. Later." And then I was truly left alone with my thoughts.

Not wanting to look at that pathetic excuse of a resume I was attempting to make, I glanced around my room some more. The room may be a boring square shape, but I enhanced it the best I could. Blue walls from when I was still in high school, full-sized bed in the corner with stripes in multiple shades of blue, pictures from the internet, vacations, and ones that I've drawn myself surround – all so much more interesting than my boring house next to the woods in the middle of Michigan. I shouldn't be so hard on the woods, I thought as I turned to look out my window to the left of my desk. It really is pretty during the sunset. Really the only benefit to living near the woods is using the cover of trees to have friends come in and visit at late times. Or sneak out – not that my parents need to know that (nor do they). The large oak tree near our house gave easy enough access to the roof and my room.

Not that they care anyway. Not as long as you "graduate with honors from college and get a high paying job." My parents mean well, really. I mean, all parents want what's best for their kids' right? They are rarely home anyway. Mom's a best-selling author and Dad's a high up business man – makes for lots of meetings and tours. I turned back to my desk to glance at my wall calendar. December 23rd and all alone until Mom and Dad got home the 27th, not that they'd stick around long enough before going off to their next party. "Merry Christmas, Kim," I whispered to myself, sighing as I went back to staring at my laptop.

After trying to figure out every synonym for "proficient" and "good", my stomach decided to inform me that maybe it'd be good to eat dinner since it was 9:30 and I hadn't eaten since 12. While I was rummaging around the pantry and fridge trying to come up with something besides the frozen pizza I was bound to make, I thought I heard an additional noise that wasn't me. Instantly my hyper-alert senses kicked in, and I tried my best to calm down before it reached a panic level. It was also at that moment that I realized my phone was in my room. "Idiot," I muttered quietly to myself.

As I was sneaking back up the stairs I remembered what I had said to Blake about using the alternate entrance if he wanted to come hang out. I never lock my window until I go to bed and he knows it. He probably just came in when he realized I left my phone behind again – a nasty habit of mine. As I neared my room, I heard the sound of someone opening and closing my drawers. "Blake, I swear that if I see you going through my dresser, I will actually…." I trailed off as I turned into my room.

Because it sure as hell wasn't Blake in my room. It was a stranger.

Author's Note:

This is the first time I've tried writing a fanfiction. I don't own Once Upon a Time or it's characters.