Page 2 of Run Little Killer
My teeth sink into the cushion of my bottom lip as I study the note, then my surroundings.
Ripping the paper from the window, I crumple it up and decide this is as good a place as any to rest and figure out my next move.
Hoping to curl up on the seat and rest out of sight, I test the door handle, but it’s locked.
Figures . I pace around to the back of the truck instead, the hinges of the tailgate squeaking as I lower it.
"Thanks for the seat, Raymond," I mutter, twisting around and pulling myself up to sit on the cold metal.
The dried blood acts like velcro adhering my socks to my skin, and I cringe as I struggle to peel them off. None of the small cuts and scrapes that litter the soles of my feet seem to be too bad, but I need to find some shoes if I plan to keep traveling on foot.
Briefly, I consider stealing a car, but that would only put a larger target on my back. Shaking that thought from my head, I lay back and shift an arm beneath my head to stare up at the night sky.
Briarwood didn't allow us much time outside, especially after dark. It’s so peaceful to be out here, gazing up like this.
Time seems to slow as I watch the gauzy clouds scroll past, bright stars shimmering as they peek out every chance they get.
It’s just like the painting Starry Night, vibrant and calming.
The last time I saw the sky like this was the night that altered my existence– the night everything went wrong.
I internally kick myself every time I replay that night in my mind– or what I remember of it.
I should've seen the warning signs, been more careful.
My tolerance was decent, I worked in a bar for godssake.
A couple of gin and tonics have never made me feel that way before.
No one batted an eye when I could barely stand, or as they left.
And when I thought help was finally coming, she blamed me instead.
She called me a whore, slapped me as I begged her for help.
Natalie kept saying it was all my fault, but I knew it wasn't. I tried to explain, to make her see that I was the victim, not the villain, but she just wouldn't shut up!
They lied, called me a monster, and got me sent away.
The court called it a psychotic break, but it wasn't .
My jaw tightens in anger as my fingers idly trace the raised skin of the scar that runs across my cheek.
Natalie said this would make me ugly; that no man would want me like this and it'd stop me from doing what I did again.
Her venomous words were on a never-ending loop as I snatched the knife away and gave her a matching one.
There was so much blood, and when the police came, no one wanted to hear my side of the story.
No matter how much I tried to tell it, to scream at them to see the truth, they stonewalled me and shut me down.
They just saw what Shawn and Natalie painted me to be: crazy .
I swipe away the tears before they have a chance to cut paths down my cheeks. Shawn and Natalie will get theirs, I’ll make sure of it.
The bright glow of headlights washes over my prone body, snapping me out of my spiral down the hell hole of memories.
I haven't seen a single car since I stepped onto this road, and I'm suddenly regretting laying out in the open like this.
The air trembles with the low rumbles of approaching motorcycles, the vibrations thrumming through me as they get closer.
My anxiety starts to climb, heart lurching into my throat with each beat and my stomach drops as they idle beside me.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi…
Okay, that's long enough for the stop sign– why are they still here?
Fuck, please keep going …
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I lay as still as I can, trying to control my breathing and stay calm.
They're probably just pausing to check their phones.
Yeah, that makes sense . No one from Briarwood would come for me on a Harley, and surely if it were the police, they'd have flashing lights– right?
Screwing my eyes shut, I count each inhale and exhale as I drown out the world around me.
In for four, hold for seven, out for six.
"Hey!" A deep voice calls out as a hand taps the side of my foot, prompting me to snap my eyes open.
"Fuck off!" I scream as I push up to my elbows and scramble backwards.
My legs flail as I keep shouting, hoping that whoever this is will realize I'm not worth the hassle.
"Goddamnit," the same voice grunts as my heel connects with the front of his jeans. "Shut her up!" he grumbles, hunching over and cupping his junk.
Before I can figure out who he’s talking to, a gloved hand circles my ankle and tugs me to the edge of the tailgate.
His other leather clad hand clamps down over my mouth, silencing my cries as he pins me in place with his large body.
The scent of leather and pine invades my senses and my eyes widen as I look up at the man holding me against his hard chest.
A black bandana is tied around his face, masking all his features except for a set of deep blue irises that light up as he drawls, "C'mon on darlin’, we're not gonna hurt you… unless you ask us to."