Disclaimer: I don't own Jeepers Creepers, The Creeper, or any canon based ideas, characters, sets and such involved in this fanfic, it belongs to Victor Salva who invented the set up anyways. Nicole Alkins and The Raven (the Creepers son), belong to the ever wonderful and talented TheMortition and I suggest you check out the fanfic 'What Do You Want From Me?' before you read this, just to clear anything else up. Any other original concepts, characters, ideas or settings belong to me however. I am sadly not profiting off this in anyways.

A/N: Well, here we are again, at the beginning of a new tale! Today we're taking a trip to Prescott County in Florida (this is fictional of course and I made it up because I don't remember the Jeepers Creepers location ever being formed). I've sadly had to do a lot of guess work with dates so sorry if anyone doesn't like my timescale but I was simply working via guesses, not via actual facts which I'd been able to discover. The only information I could get about the location is that it was the Florida countryside and the time it was set in was unknown. My fanfic is set in 2004, with Nicole's experience having happened back in 1985. Sorry if you hate me for this, but I had to take a couple of guesses about the time Jeepers Creepers was set in, and I chose the 80's because to me it seemed a safe bet. I hope you enjoy reading this fanfic and I hope you like my protagonist Noelle; this chapter is a little basic, but I wanted to ease you into the story and what's going on. Please rate and review, but I'm not enforcing it! I just hope you enjoy my work!

The atmosphere in the car was almost as suffocating as the blistering heat roaring down from the sunny skies which sat up above our small car; I'd never been much of a summer girl, and the way the weather was making me definitely reflected that side of me. I was surprised perspiration hadn't begun to build up on the windows the heat was becoming so unbearable; it was like the time my parents had taken me to one of those tropical domes where you can feel like you live in a rainforest, and I almost fainted then anyways. Maybe being born in December had this impact on me, or maybe I was just born as one of those people who react badly to intense heat?

Trickles of sweat were beginning to form on the inside of the cast which encircled my right arm, itchy little bubbles beginning to slowly slide down my arm. Dozens of names littered the fading, creamy-whiteness of it; most of the names belonged to the 'hooligans' (what dad called them), more commonly known as my friends, but the odd signature or name belonged to one of my many former classmates. My bags, one of which was my former school bag, aligned the back seat like a little battalion of soldiers waiting for my orders to attack or something along the lines of that. The boxes I'd packed on Thursday were placed in the boot, the ones with precious valuables in them wrapped with a protective cocoon of bubble wrap so my more expensive, and important, possessions weren't broken during the sometimes bumpy car journey we'd been taking across the states, but I figured my dad wanted to improve our somewhat fractured relationship.

But this wasn't a holiday or some family trip out, and we weren't moving house. I was moving. I would've moved out five months ago, but we were waiting for the leg brace to come off, so my house moving was postponed. It was just me going to Granny Kath's house, neither my parents, nor my older sister Annette were going, just me. It was impossible for my older brother Luke to go, because he'd moved out our suburban three story home over a year ago. I guess you could argue this was a form of punishment, but it wasn't directed at me; it was directed entirely at my best friend, Kendell Richmond, the causer of my broken wrist and leg.

I'd told her she shouldn't have been driving after drinking the sheer amount of beer she had at Stacie Copula's seventeenth birthday, but she'd insisted on driving me home, although I'd only had half of one, making me the much more competent, and safer driver. She hadn't seen the navy blue pickup truck coming when she'd attempted to jump the light, just five minutes away from my house. The truck had slammed into the side of Kendell's red mini, practically crushing the door on impact, knocking her unconscious the second the door connected with right hand side of her body; but it was me who had the real damage inflicted. Due to the force of the truck hitting her car, my seatbelt had managed to snap on impact, causing me to fall straight onto the passenger side's door; although I'd span mid-air, making it my right hand side which had slammed harshly against the door, not my left, embedding my wrist with tiny bits of broken glass and snapping my upper leg bones straight upon impact. A sharp, red-hot needle of pain had burst sharply into my leg, numbing the sparking stinging sensation which had erupted in my wrist in comparison. And all I remember before passing out was shrieking like a banshee as I heard the sound of sirens begin to chime in the distant. Just my luck I lived near a police station; and it didn't help that my dad was the sheriff's deputy.

One 'official family meeting' later, my mom and dad ended up coming up with the conclusion that me moving to the backwood, countryside of Florida where my dad had grown up, would be the best for me. Maybe he figured there would be no 'party crazy, drunken, reckless drivers' in the backwoods of Florida as he'd oh-so politically correctly put it! Having deputy sheriff, Lee Manning, as my father meant I couldn't get away with breaking strangely without his ears pricking up and then being asked a hundred and one questions relating towards it; and he figured that a town with less than three thousand people living there was the perfect destination for me to begin living, in an attempt to get me away from my 'reckless' friend Kendell. Part of me figured my dad never truly liked Kendell, even though we'd been best friends from the second grade, although I couldn't really blame him for it; her mom, Sasha Richmond, had been a call girl who'd abandoned Kendell from a young age and she'd ended up going into care, which had probably influenced her issues when it came towards alcoholism and drug abuse. She was filling a hole her mother had put there.

Maybe I'd become friends with her because part of me always wished I could be a little bit more like Kendell; a fiery, tough, vibrant, somewhat reckless, fun-loving, exciting, exhilarating, confident, secure, inciting, sociable, colourful badass, compared to my boring, meek, well-mannered, rule-obeying, overly mature, reclusive, quiet, cowardly nobody. During my time in junior high, if someone ever picked on me, I'd simply look down at my work and swallow back my rising tears; Kendell would usually end up getting in either a verbal or physical fight, and would even end up getting in them if someone dared pick on me when she was there or if I told her. In return I'd always end up helping her out with some form of homework and explain things to her. That was the only thing I had an advantage over her with: intelligence. I grew up a law-abiding, straight-A student whilst she grew up an immature, straight-D student.

I guess we were quite the spectacle to our classmates who'd known us since we became friends all those years ago. Kendell with her eventual 5'1 and chubby build which made people often underestimate her massively because of her weight and height; with her chubby, pleasant face which was almost heart-shaped but not quite, a nice snubbed nose and high, impressive cheekbones which definitely stood out on her plumped face, not discounting the amazingly deep colour of her tree-sap amber eyes which shone out of her face like beacons on a lighthouse. Her face was outlined with perfectly straightened hair which wavered around her shoulders, a shade of blonde so light it borderlined white; of course this wasn't her natural coloured, and she'd bleached it two years ago when we were fifteen and liked it that way. Her natural hair colour had been a sort of chestnut brown which I'd always loved, so I'd never understood why she'd bleached it but didn't ask; sometimes the tiniest of things put her in a bad mood and she'd refuse to speak to me for days. The bleached blonde looked a little…Tacky I suppose against her naturally russet skin. She'd always wear dark leather jackets, dark jeans with a pair of pointy-toed, black leather heeled boots which reached her calf level; like I said total badass material.

Then you'd have to turn your eyes to me, or should that be drag your eyes to me? I'm taller than her, but that's just because my dad's 6'3" and my mom's 5'11", so it figures I'm not too small when it comes to the height stakes. I'm not as tall as my big brother Luke, who stands at an incredible 6'5", or my sister Annette who stands at 6'1"; I simply stand at just 5'7" but I guess I'm going to grow even taller as time passes. I had a couple of friends back in the city, such as Robin Drake and Jesse Gilbert, towered above me but I was pretty tall compared to the girl's. I've always been fair skinned opposed to her tan, looking like a little snowwoman compared to her Amazonian warrior princess; I've always had a very pale complexion, which isn't helped by the naturally tanned majorative of my bunch of friends. It doesn't help that I inherited my mother's dark brown hair, the colour of seal fur, called that because it resembles the colour of an appropriately named fur seals fur; it's long, straight and just peaks my waist, although it sort of flicks outwards at the end. My face is heart-shaped, only just though, with a slim jawline, long nose with a point to the end, and large, even spaced eyes; my eyes are an iris blue colour, so blue they almost look purple. Overall, people tell me I'm pretty, and I have to agree, but my bland personality puts people off me immediately; and I lack the breast and thigh Kendell does.

Looking back on it though, none of my "friends" were really my friends; they were definitely more Kendell's friends; even with my slender figure, large iris blue eyes, and pretty face, yet bland figure, they never really accepted me, only liking me because I could help them get out of trouble when it came to my dad. Sometimes I even doubted if they were proper friends with Kendell, mainly relying on her for drugs and booze; but recently I hadn't even been sure what terms I was on with Kendell. She wasn't too happy when I announced my dad's decision and pestered me to 'stand up to him', but that's impossible, impossible for someone as cowardly and overly-paranoid as me. I knew if I tried standing up to someone, it'd only end up with my father becoming more determined to send me to my gran's, and, even though I still ended up going, arguing back with him would just worsen the situation.

Wearing a grey tank-top didn't accelerate my chest like it would with most women, and my pale blue jeans were only just bearable in the burning summer sun; being slim is good in some aspects, but my overall body proportions played out fairly. I lacked circumstantial chest area, and my thighs were slimmer than all the other girls I'd ever really known, bar a few. Being tall as well as slim limits your chances of getting a good chest and thigh mass, but I've gotten over it as my teenage years have passed by. The worse causer of sweat was my arm cast but that was something I couldn't deal with so I'd simply had to turn the air conditioning up to full blast and sit it out, waiting for the heat to mercifully calm down a little so I didn't feel faint or dizzy anymore. I was only thankful our car wasn't any more crowded or I would've fainted by this point. So far my father and I hadn't spoken so much as a line of dialogue without it being stuffy and awkward, just feeling plain wrong.

Dad knew how annoyed I was with him, resenting the fact I was being dragged away from my friends and the city which I'd grown up in, feeling comfortable there; but it wasn't really all because of that. If you overviewed my annoyance directed towards my father, it was more to do with my Granny Kath. It was nothing personal, I'd just never really gotten to know her over my seventeen years of life; the last time we'd visited her I was six years old, a full eleven years ago. We'd spent Christmas with her, which awkwardly coincided with my birthday, on the 24th of September, which resulted in my practically ridiculous name. I was born Noelle Delia Manning, named Noelle because I was born so near to Christmas, only missing out by a day; I swear if I was born on the 25th, I would've literally been named fucking Christmas Manning. Then there are my older siblings Luke Alexander Manning and my older sister Annette Nancy Manning; Annette's nineteen and at college, studying fashion journalism, whilst Luke's moved out of our house and is living in Arizona now, with his wife Alice and daughter, Mollie. So my families pretty broken apart at the moment.

I suppose dad must be pretty broken up about me moving away to the desolate countryside of Florida, but he's clearly reasoned it over in his head, making sure he's totally assured with his reasoning for why he's sending me off to live with Granny Kath. His eyes, the same iris blue as my own, shone with concentration as he steadily kept his eyes focused onto the road; his sandy coloured hair, curling like the ends of my own, fell slightly in front of his eyes and clearly needed to get a haircut sometime soon although so far he hadn't been able to arrange one. What, with me and my physiotherapy, Luke getting married to Alice, and Annette planning for college, he was pretty stressed, meaning haircuts were probably the last thing on his mind by that precise point in time. Part of me wished I could've inherited my father's sandy coloured hair, because it would've looked better with my violet-blue coloured eyes; then again, no-one gets to pick their own chromosomes, which is a good thing or people would literally model themselves to look like anime characters or some crazy shit like that. In today's modern world, with image being everything, I should know that all too well.

As trees and fields flew by, including the odd house, I saw something which slightly mystified me; hidden within a large grove, mainly composed of trees and long, overgrown strands of grass sat a building which I thought would never appear in such a desolate area. It was a church. It was constructed out of either white wood or white plaster with a coppery coloured roof, but apart from that was rather different to any other church I'd ever seen; it was old and desolate looking, and the closer we got I could tell it was in fact made of wood, due to the fact several planks of it had fallen out over time, mainly near the top of the construction. The spire had been broken off and now only a small, rather pitiful stump remained, marking it as a holy building; the moss smothered steps which led up to it looked so old I think if I'd so much as stepped on one they would have crumbled and I would've fallen over. The windows and doors were all open and empty, with the windows being boarded up with beige planks of wood and secured, but the two doors were left wide open, which surprised me. But more surprising still were the two vehicles which sat outside, nestled in the mint green coloured grass, but they were clearly visible to someone with sharp eyes like me; one of them was a huge, brown, rusting truck, something I'd never seen before it was so odd. To be fair, where I come from not many people own any form of trucks, but it still surprised me then. It looked like it hadn't been used in years, and no wonder why, but it was the second object which surprised me more. It was a 66 Harley Davidson, painted purely white; the only reason I knew its make was because my brother owned one of the same, only his was painted red. The strange thing was though, how fresh and new it looked compared to the crumbling church and rusted truck.

"Quite the eye saw, isn't it." My father spoke up, making me jump slightly so I turned my eyes back to him, and nodded, not sure of what to say. "When I was a kid everyone used to say a monster lived in the old church; a huge, winged creature which fed on the flesh of humans every twenty-something years. Didn't stop us from going up there and drinking every weekend."

"Oh Lee, you badass!" I muttered under my breath, causing him to begin laughing and he smiled at me, which immediately managed to evaporate the tension which had formed between us in the car, a huge relief to both of us. "Seriously though, why monster? I mean…Even home had that stupid legend about the man with a hook who stalked the woods, which at least eighteen other states in America probably share. I mean, as mom likes to say, when you're making up an urban legend at least try to make it believable; last time I checked, winged batman wasn't too realistic."

"First of all," he started, pausing to increase our cars speed from fifty to sixty mph, "Well…" He looked unsure of how to continue but found a way pretty quickly because he continued speaking. "Every twenty-three years, Prescott would be plagued by a series of murders or missing persons. The victims ranged in age and gender, but they'd always disappear after spending time driving out on the highways. They were often tourists but the police department out here got a really bad rep because of it."

"I'm guessing that's why you didn't stay here when you decided to join the force." Was all I could say, trying to ignore the cold plummet forming in my stomach, wondering why dad had let me come to live here with all these unsolved murders and missing person's. Prescott County, Florida turned out to be the state's unsolved murder capital when I checked it out at the local library; never a promising sign if you're going to be living here.

"Exactly," dad nodded and looked at me. "But you don't need to worry, Noe." Noe was the nickname I'd earned from an early age, but it felt weird to be called it again by him, because since I was twelve he'd simply called me Noelle. Maybe coming out here had changed something about him and his worries, due to all the murders and disappearances, were beginning to creep back in. "It's only been nineteen years since the last case, and if this is an incredibly organized gang or even family of serial killers, and by the time it's reached twenty-three I have a feeling you'll have come back to the city. Look, I know you're not exactly thrilled, or even happy, about coming out here but…The accident, it just really shook me up, me and your mom. I worried that it wouldn't be the last time either. Ever since that girl got a drivers licence I knew something like this was going to happen. I just didn't know it was going to be you."

"Dad, I'm sorry!" I sighed, looking at him and smiled slightly at him. "I just didn't know how drunken Kendell was. She told me she'd only had a couple of beers and I believed her; I didn't know how well she could fake being sober…" He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, smiling softly at me, his eyes warm for once.

"I know, Noelle. I'm sorry if this feels like a punishment because you're being sent away from Kendell and all your other friends but…Well, as you've probably guessed, me and your mom aren't exactly the biggest fans of the crowd you socialize with. This wouldn't have happened if Annette hadn't started getting worried too, and she's never been the greatest one for decision making." Now that was true, Annette had gotten into a really bad crowd when she was in high school; I'm talking drug dealers and addicts, people who were really off their faces when it came to drugs. Her being concerned over my friends automatically made everything clearer. "It was her worries which made me certain sending you to live with my mother was actually for the best."

"I understand," I said solemnly before realising there was something I needed to ask him. "Um…Dad, did you see that Harley outside the creepy church building? It was like, really new and shiny looking, painted white? It looked kinda out of place."

"No…Why?" He asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"It just seemed really strange," I nodded, agreeing with my own statement, strange as it was. "The way the truck looked so old…" He cut me off then.

"Oh that truck's been there for years! No-one's ever claimed it as their own; it's just sat out there. But, every twenty-three years, apparently people see it roaring down the highway. But a bike you said?"

"Yeah," I nodded, but this time it was rather uncertainly. "It was really white, the same make of Luke's I think, and it was just sorta…Standing there, leaning against the wall, it looked really out of place because the rest of that church area's just so run down."

"Were there any other vehicles with it?" My dad asked, and I had the embarrassing worry he wanted to go all cop and bust some drug taking teens.

"No," I shook my head quickly, trying to save my own dignity in case he did decided to go and try investigating the old, rotting church. "Just that one bike, which was…I guess what I found the strangest. It was just parked there by itself; no other cars were with it."

My dad shook his head, but luckily kept the car going in the direction we'd been flowing in, not doing one of the U-turns he occasionally did which made me almost fall out the car once. "Maybe it was just some kid taking a look at the old place? A lot of us used to do it when I lived her, and, seeing as there's still enough kids for a high school, I guess a lot of them must go and check out the old place sometimes. Me and your uncle once went there exploring, but we ended up scaring ourselves more than the house did; the place works solely on the art of using your imagination to frighten you more than anything you'll end up seeing. The worst things you'll ever see are just a couple of dead rat and the odd dead crow. For some reason those birds seem to love that church, maybe it's all the rats." He shrugged. "All I'm saying is, it was probably nothing; nothing to get yourself worked up over."

I nodded and leant back into my seat, still wondering about the odd car. "Anything else you can tell me about this place dad? Y'know," I added quickly. "Just so I can get prepare myself for Monday, when I start school." It was Friday, but it was already 2:24 in the afternoon and dad knew there was no way we'd have arrived quick enough for me to be able to start school today. "So I know what the kids will be like."

"Hmm…" He paused for a couple of minutes before responding to my question. "Well I guess, this place is traditionally tight nit, like most small towns located in the South. The kids might be a little standoffish at first, but they'll warm up to you over time, especially once they realise I'm your dad. Being the kid of a local immediately makes your time easier here, even if said local moved away over twenty years ago." He laughed at that, then smiled back at me, but it faded after another minute of thinking happened. "But…There's someone I'd suggest you stay away from. I mean, I never believed the rumours which circulated around this particular person, but…There were a lot of rumours, even back then when she first arrived."

"Who is this?" I asked uncertainly. "I mean. I think I might need a name and description so I can hopefully stay away from this woman."

"Oh sorry!" He said quickly, but I just smiled at him and he continued. "Her name's Nicole Alkins, she'll be about forty-one by now, couple years younger than your mom." Two to be precise, I thought. "I was twenty-four and had almost completed my police training when she turned up in town; she used to be a friend of your mom's for her first couple of years here, while your mom was doing her geography studies so she could become a teacher." Good old mom, teaching high school level geography, although she'd luckily not chosen my former high school to teach at. "She was about 5'5" and last I heard from your gran she'd stayed that height; shoulder length dark brown hair, probably longer by now, hazel brown eyes, pale skinned. Fairly pretty, but there was something which hung around her, a cloud of misery."

"What does that mean?" I asked cautiously. "Do you mean like…She was cursed? Bad things kept happening to her?"

"Not to Nicole specifically," he shook his head. "But to those around her. She came out here with her cousin, Elizabeth Isleton, more commonly known as Bess, and her cousins' friends; Paul Armstrong, Bess' boyfriend, Taylor Stokes, her best friend, and their three other friends James Gray, more commonly known as Jimmie, Devon Castaneda and Deanna Sargent. To be fair, the six of them were drug taking, reckless lowlife's, but…They didn't deserve what happened never the less." He swallowed thickly, as if the next bit was unpleasant. "They came here in 1985, twenty-three years after the past spree of killings and…Well," he sighed and shook his head. "I'm sure you can guess what happened then."

"They were killed." I mumbled and my dad just nodded to tell me I was correct.

"Only Nicole survived, but she was kidnapped and raped by the murderer; she claimed she couldn't remember anything about him and the baby…" He paused again, swallowing tightly. "It was born horribly deformed and presumed dead, but she persuaded them to let her keep it and she did." He shook his head again but patted me lightly on the shoulder, as if to reassure me it was all fine. "She left town after that to attend art college but returned three years later with a baby; obviously not the one she'd had after her traumatic experience, but apparently she'd met another guy, they'd even got engaged but in the end things hadn't worked out, although she was left with her son, Robert, more commonly known as Rob." I nodded and gestured for him to carry on talking. "It's just…Due to the winged demon legend circulating around the town, some people believed she'd in fact bred with the demon and the deformed child was a result. They called her a witch and…" He sighed again, this time it was a lot sharper though. "Basically, I heard a couple of dogs went missing when she came back and even I'm not too sure about her now. She owns the Earth Child Emporium on White Street; it's a Wiccan shop, dishes out spell books, equipment for spells, crystal balls ect. In fact, your gran really likes her, but…I'd just be careful."

"So…Let me get this straight…" I muttered. "This Nicole Alkins lady is apparently a witch who had a baby with a demon and killed dogs to feed they're demon baby blood?"

"That's what folks like to say," was all he replied. "I mean, like I said, don't believe everything you hear around these parts, people are fanatical when it comes to legends, so a woman opening a Wicca shop really stirred them all up. Especially because of the brutal killings which happened revolving around her; people just got superstitious and began throwing ridiculous theories out there, because they didn't truly understand the situation. Don't listen to the town crazies, but just…Stay away from her too. It's nothing personal, I just don't want you getting involved within people's rumours; if you began hanging around Nicole and her shop, people would then assume you were a demon groupie as well and would begin hassling your gran over it. She's not too well already and that could seriously harm her, so no visiting Nicole Alkins, deal?"

"Deal." I said firmly and then laughed slightly. "No visiting the supposed witch on White Street, and no getting involved with demons." We both laughed at that and I shook my head. "But what about the son? I mean…Does he know about all these rumours? What happened to him?"

"Still lives here," dad explained. "He'll be in your year actually, but, and this is just speculation; I'm guessing he won't be the football team captain or king of the socialites. Due to the rumours about his mom I'm guessing his reputation was tarnished as well, which really isn't his fault, but I suppose life's unfair like that. Not to sound like a stereotypical dad but I don't think it'd be good if you hung around him either; I'm not discounting he could be a lovely boy, but again, the rumours which would speculate could make your gran really ill and I feel I've caused her enough hassle. I mean, it'll be good with you there I guess," He turned and smiled at me, his eyes radiating warmth. "Just so she has someone to talk to and keep her company…" He trailed off as the car rounded a bend and we began making our way up a long stretch of greenery, which I realised led up to my gran's house.

"Where do they live then?" I asked and he looked at me strangely, making me realise he had no clue who I was talking about. "Nicole Alkins and her son, Rob, I mean. Like, where do they live out here?"

"Apparently," my father continued looking straight ahead, but occasionally his eyes would slide to the side, watching me, making sure I was fine. "She earned a lot of money selling paintings in college and I can understand why, I've seen some and they're amazing. But anyways, she earned herself a lot of money, enough to build her own house and that's what she did. A couple of miles north of the old church, she built this farm, where she and her son now live. From the photos I've seen its spectacular, nothing I've ever seen is that complicated or wonderful. Stained glass windows, endless fields, it looked more like a church than the actual church!" He laughed slightly. "But apparently it's pretty hard to find. You have to drive quite some way out of the main town area to find the farm, and even then people keep away, for obvious reasons. But hush now!" He tapped me on the shoulder. "We have reached your gran's house and for some reason she has a fondness for Ms Alkins, so don't tell her what I've been telling you."

"Promise." I grinned at him and laughed, before turning my eyes back to the house which was now directly in front of me. It was a lovely house, and even reminded me a little of the spooky old church if someone had been keeping it in better condition; like pretty much every other house I'd seen as we'd taken the long journey out here, it was made of white wooden planks, and stood at the traditional two stories high, maybe three if you counted the infamous basement my dad used to tell me about as a little girl. The windows were all partially covered with the same white cloth curtain and the porch had one of those hanging swing seats on it, dangling from two silver chains. It was a pleasant house, much nicer than our boring brick one, and radiated a much nicer aura due to its white colouring.

An elderly woman, with slightly wrinkling, pale skin stood on the front porch, at the top of the freshly painted white steps. It was the eyes which evidently gave her away as my dad's mother, they were the same iris blue of my own and his, almost glowing in the midst of her creamy-white skin. Her hair was silver coloured, running down her back in a neatly fashioned French plat; she was dressed strangely practical for a woman of seventy-one years old with her creamy-yellow coloured slacks and white cardigan which matched the whiteness of her top. Her feet were covered with a pair of beige coloured sandals, and her toenails were painted a bright red colour. Her face was soft and heart-shaped, like my mom's and my own, but much more defindely so and her thin mouth was pulled into a smile. "Leighton!" She grinned, calling my dad by his full name, not his abbreviated 'Lee'. "How lovely to see you again! And this must be Noelle," she turned her eyes to me. "My! You have grown into a beautiful young woman! It'll be lovely to have you stay with me!"

I felt the colour rush to my cheeks but dad, thank god, spoke up for me. "Hasn't she just!" He laughed. "And I'm sure she's going to be very happy staying here, especially because the move caused me to buy her a present she's very much going to be needing if she's going to live out here!"

"Present?" I asked cautiously. My parents haven't always had the best of tastes when it comes to buying me gifts, but this time, I was pleasantly shocked. Not 'surprised', I was 'shocked', and that was solely down to the price tag which must've come with this rather expensive gift I was being presented. "Oh my God…" I muttered the minute I looked to my left. "You bought me a car!?" On the driveway's incredibly empty space, bar my gran's old, fading green 1950's Chevy Pickup, was a car which looked startling modern opposed to it. The car was sleek and black, it's make was a Mercedes-Benz S-Class, according to my dad, and looked far too modern for Prescott County with its pickup trucks and vast collection of motorbikes; I figured it'd make me stand out even more when I started my new school. But then it hit me. I needed a car to get around. It was only then when I realised how isolated my father's hometown truly was, and how isolated I was going to become.