Page 26 of Forgiving Fate

Don’t get me wrong, before my life turned upside down, I didn’t mind partaking in a beer every once in a while. And I definitely attended my fair share of college parties where theonly drink of choice was some cheap shit that no one knew what it was or asked questions. But there is a big difference between enjoying it and swimming in it.

Today has been exhausting enough sitting in hours of traffic and wanting to be anywhere else besides trapped in a metal box with a guy I hardly know. I had moved past it when we got to this motel, but then I had to try to push away the guilt, knowing Landon would most likely be sleeping in his car. Then some drunken dickhead made me go for a swim in piss beer, then walking in to see the marksheleft on me sent me into a spiral.

Landon was back in less than half an hour with a fresh set of clothes before he was off again to get us food. And I have to admit, I am freaking starving. I’ll give it to the guy. He has been trying his hardest to get me to eat three meals a day, but I haven’t been able to stomach more than one. I have an idea why, but that is a part of my mind I refuse to tap into.

After washing my hair three times and scrubbing my skin almost raw, I step out of the shower and avoid the mirror. I cannot handle another look today. I won’t be able to stomach it.

I quickly dress in the oversized band tee and leggings that Landon bought and ignore the embarrassing and highly awkward fact that he also included undergarments.

I am just about to sit down on the bed and find the remote to drown out the excessive partying still happening outside when a knock sounds on the door. I hesitate for a moment because I didn’t hear my phone go off with a text from Landon, but make my way over to the door thinking his hands are probably full of food and whatever else he grabbed on his outing.

Not bothering to look through the peephole, I open the door and immediately regret it when I come face to face with the man that dumped a bucket of beer on me. He is leaning against the door frame and when his focus dials in on me, he straightens andflashes me a creepy smile. Immediately, I move to step back and shut the door in his face, but he stops me.

“Hey lady. I just wanted to apologize for dumpin‘ my beer on ya. Can I offer you a drink as an apology?” His words sound more clear than the last time we spoke, but he is still drunk off his ass.

Slowly, I inch the door closed, so he doesn’t notice. “It’s fine. But no thank you, I’m not interested. You have a good night.” Once again, I go to shut the door and he stops me again.

My patience runs out and all the anger I pushed down earlier bubbles to the surface. Pulling the knife I have been hiding in the waistband of any pants I wear out, I step into him and hold it to his jugular. His eyes go wide and I can tell he’s caught off guard.

“Listen here, dickhead. I have had enough of men thinking they can push their way onto a woman just because they have a dick between their legs. Do you really think the best way to win over a woman is by forcing her? Because if so, newsflash bucko, it’s not. So I suggest you and your two-inch dick turn around and go back to whatever slimy hole you crawled out of before I accidentally slip and knick your neck with this pretty little knife.”

He stands frozen and because I am out of my goddamn mind, I continue, “And do not think that just because I let you off this time, I will the next time I see you. Because if youdocome back, I will accidentally slip and my foot up your ass won’t be the only thing leaving you gasping for air.” I finish with a tiny tap to his jugular and take a step back, just to see Landon standing off to the side with a grin on his face.

Embarrassment floods me, and I turn my attention back to the man. He goes to scurry away, but Landon blocks his path.

Casually, with bags in his hands, he says, “She said it perfectly. But if you come back or I see you again, I can guarantee you her promises will look like rainbows compared to mine.” Steppingaside he allows the man to run away, but before he gets too far, he says, “Go Broncos!” Causing the crowd in the parking lot to start chanting, clueless to the fact that he and I just threatened a man's life.

I watch as the man walks into the crowd and as soon as he is out of sight, I step to the side, allowing Landon in and slump against the wall.

Landon rushes to set the bags on the bed, then closes door and secures the latch before returning to the bags. In the meantime, I sink to the floor and sit down. My hands shake as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Holy shit. I just held a knife to a man’s throat and threatened his life. All while Landon watched from the sidelines. Who have I become?

My hands go around my knees that are tucked to my chest and my vision starts to blur as Landon crouches down in front of me, holding out a bag of food.

He waits for me to take the bag before sitting down in front of the door next to me, leaving a small amount of space between us.

Silence hangs between us for a moment before Landon speaks up. “You did great. You were strong and fucking badass. I know it was scary, but you should be proud of yourself. I certainly am.”

Not knowing what to say, I shrug and move to sit crisscross and start going through the bag of fried food. It’s full, and it makes me think he is waiting for me to split it between the two of us, but when I look over, he is emptying his own bag onto the floor.

Suddenly, hunger overtakes me as the smell of fries fills my nostrils. Grabbing a handful of fries, I glance over at Landon. I notice he isn’t in the same flannel and jeans he has been wearing. He is in dark grey sweats and a short sleeve Guns N Roses tee. For the first time, I can get a good look at his tattoos.

His arms are full of an array of broken pieces of art amongst smaller objects. I know they must mean something because not everyone gets a sword that has shards of broken art flying around it. But that isn’t the piece that is catching my eye. It is the small cursive script on his wrist that reads,overleve.

The silence surrounds us and my mind starts to wander. Before I can stop myself, I use a fry to point towards his wrist and say, “What does that mean?”

Landon must be lost in thought because he shakes his head and places his burger down. Grabbing a sip from his drink, he flashes me a questioning look.

“Your wrist. What does the overleve mean?”

His eyes cast down to his wrist and I can see his face morph into an expression I can’t quite place.

Crap. I shouldn’t have asked. I was being selfish and tried to get out of my head and ended up triggering the man who has done nothing but help me.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I know tattoos always hold a deeper meaning than just lines on skin. Most people probably don’t tell their closest friends the meaning behind the ink. And here I am, some random person you were sent to rescue from the middle of nowhere New York. I—”

Words fly out of my mouth so quickly that when Landon taps his knee against mine and says my name, I end up somehow choking on air. Landon reaches around me and hands me my drink, and as my coughing fit slows, I watch as he searches my face.

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