Page 30 of SNOB

My fingers come to my tingling lips as chills wash over me.

“Get the fuck up, Butterfly.” Mac hovers over me, patting his soaking blazer before he pulls out a golden case. As he pulls out a cigarette, droplets fall from his hair landing on me.

I’m on grass. Wet grass.

“It’s just you and me,” he says.

When I try to speak, I choke, water in my throat.

Then it all comes flooding back.

The car. The drive.

The flip.

“Get. Up,” he growls.

With a few more coughs, I push up on my elbows, my body aching when I do. Wincing at the pain, my eyes move around as I try to grasp reality. I don’t see the car.

I also don’t see anyone else.

My eyes widen. “Wh-where’s?—”

My words cut off when I’m lifted in the air, my body stinging with the pull. It’s dark around us but I’m trying to make sense of everything as quick as I can.

His arm comes around me, heat coming with it despite our soaked clothes. He cradles me for a moment before my feet touch the ground. He holds my hand as he steadies me, the only warmth coming to my body. Looking up at Mac, he stares right back. That maniacal gaze in the rearview mirror flashes in my head and I stumble back. He catches me, and when I try to pull away he keeps me in place.

Where the fuck are we? What are we doing out here? Why did he bring me here?

And where the fuck is?—?

Something falls over my shoulders, stopping my thoughts. It’s wet, but the extra layer feels warmer and when I look back at Mac his blazer’s gone, his cigarette lit.

A pair of headlights come from behind him, my eyes squinting.

“Let’s go. Now.” A puff of cigarette blows in my face before he grabs my hand, pulling me towards the black car coming to a stop. My heart thumps as I pull back on his hand, but he tugs harder. “I’m not fucking around, Ember, I’ll leave you the fuck out here.” My mind tells me that would be the better option. But when a driver hops out in a penguin suit and opens the door, the warmth from the car beckons me.

Mac walks towards it and I follow, the driver tucking us both inside. Mac keeps his cigarette lit inside the car, silence falling over us. The driver gets in and we back away from what I’m now realizing is a river.

No, a lake.

Words won’t leave my mouth, and as deafening as this silence is, I don’t end it. I don’t want to acknowledge that there’s one less person in this car than there should be.

“I’m bringing you home," he says.

My home?

Looking at him again, he still has those eyes on me. “Looks like we’re in this together, Butterfly.”

NINE

MAC

Mac!

Watch out!

Don’t make me call Daddy!

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