Page 8 of Nanny for the Bikers

The sun hangs low on the horizon, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink that bleed together like watercolors. It’s a breathtaking sight, but the beauty is lost on me as I stare out at the endless stretch of highway before me, my thoughts as heavy as the rumble of the truck’s engine.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, the leather warm and smooth beneath my touch. Shadow sits beside me, his steady presence a small comfort amidst the turmoil swirling inside me.

“Just you and me against the world, huh, buddy?” I murmur, reaching over to scratch behind his ears. He leans into my touch, his tail thumping against the seat.

For a moment, the simple action soothes me, but then the memories come crashing back in, sharp as shattered glass. I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.

The road blurs as hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink them away furiously, refusing to let them fall. Crying won’tchange anything and won’t erase the scars that run deeper than skin. It won’t change the fact that I’m now all on my own.

Shadow whines softly, sensing my distress. He nuzzles his wet nose against my arm, his warm breath ghosting over my skin.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. But the words feel hollow, even to my own ears.

I crack the window, letting the wind rush in, whipping strands of hair across my face. I breathe deep, the scent of asphalt and diesel filling my lungs. It’s the smell of freedom, of a new beginning.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say to Shadow, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. “We always do.”

He rests his head on my thigh, his weight solid and grounding.

I crank up the volume on my playlist, the pulsing beat of the music thrumming through the speakers. It’s a desperate attempt to drown out the thoughts that swirl in my head like a brewing storm.

But even as the bass vibrates through my bones, I can’t escape the memories that claw at the edges of my mind. They spread like poison, tainting every thought with their bitterness.

I see my mother’s face, her eyes filled with desperate hope as she tells me she’s going back to Kyle. Back to the man who’s caused us nothing but pain. Back to the cycle of abuse and heartbreak that we’ve tried so hard to break free from.

“He’s changed,” she’d said, her voice trembling with a fragile conviction. “He promised it’ll be different this time.”

But I’ve heard those words one too many times, a broken record that skips and stutters, always circling back to the same old tune. I’ve seen the bruises that bloom on her skin like morbid flowers, the tears that streak down her face like acid rain.

Kyle is the definition of a bad man, and I can’t believe my mom has gone back to him — even though she knew it meant she’d lose me.

Anger surges through me, hot and fierce. It mingles with the disbelief that sits heavy in my gut, a sickening cocktail of emotions that makes my stomach churn.

I remember the nights spent huddled in my room, my pillow pressed over my ears to block out the shouting and the shattering of glass against the wall. The mornings after, the tense silence that hangs in the air like a suffocating fog, the carefully crafted lies that fall from my mother’s lips like shards of broken promises.

I remember the way Kyle would sit at the table with a cigarette between his lips, uncaring of the bruises he’d left on my mother the night before.

“Why can’t she see it?” I whisper, shaking my head. “Why does she keep going back?”

But even as the questions spill from my lips, I know the answers. I’ve seen the way Kyle manipulates her, the way he twists his words like a spider spinning a web, entrapping her in a maze of her own making.

I won’t be caught up with their life anymore…it’s time to live my own. Mom could make her own decisions, and if she chose to stay with him…that would be her own downfall. But I’m done.I’m putting as much distance between myself and the toxic cycle of abuse and heartache that I’ve been trapped in for so long.

“No more,” I whisper fiercely. “No more living in fear, no more waiting for the next blow to fall. No more.”

A sharp beep pierces the air, jolting me from my thoughts. My eyes dart to the dashboard, widening as I take in the blinking fuel light. The needle hovers dangerously close to empty.

“Damn it,” I mutter, my heart rate spiking as panic seeps into my veins. “Not now, not when we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Shadow whines softly, sensing my distress. I reach over to scratch behind his ears, scanning the horizon. For a moment, there’s nothing but the endless stretch of asphalt and the darkening sky above.

But then, I spot it. A gas station, its neon sign glowing.

Relief crashes over me, so intense it leaves me dizzy. I let out a shaky breath, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as I flick on my turn signal.

“Thank God,” I whisper, as I guide the truck towards the exit ramp.

I pull into the gas station, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across the cracked pavement.

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