Page 42 of Sugar Coated Secrets

My heart starts beating wildly in my chest when I notice I’m on the road heading to the middle of nowhere, following a ribbon of asphalt. Flashes of me in the dark, running naked toward red and blue lights, breaks through the memories I tried to suppress.

I blink, and the sunlight glistens with heat. The air conditioner doesn’t cool as much but blows air over the blanketof sweat on my skin. I check the dash, and the car starts making a funny noise. I press the gas, and it doesn’t pick up speed, making my heart curl in my throat. I glance at the GPS, and it says I still have fifteen minutes until I arrive at my destination. I let the van crawl, but it’s slowing down by the second. I press the gas, but nothing. It doesn’t pick up speed. I tap the brake and change gears with the shifter by the steering wheel, and that’s when the car slows. I changed it back, and I’m screwed.

“No, no. Not again. What is it with this place?”

The engine of the van stalls, and it rolls until it comes to a stop.

It's the same road, but this time, it’s daytime without a cloud in the sky.

The sun peeks through the tall trees, casting shadows over the road. I’ve never had a delivery this far.

I grab my phone and exit the map, looking for the nearest tow truck. I'm glad I have enough battery and signal.

Someone picks up. “Dean Towing,” the man says through the phone.

“Hi, my name is Dulce Webster?—”

I get out of the van when it gets too hot, fanning myself. The man on the phone named Dean said it would take about thirty minutes for him to show up. I'm glad I was smart enough to place the cookies and cake in a cooler. I don’t want to open it and check because it could allow heat to filter in. I walk around to the other side, closer to the grass on the shoulder, and look into the trees. I see something brown through the streams of light. I step closer to get a good look and notice a small house—more like a cabin.

It wouldn’t be surprising that plenty of people live in cabins in North and South Carolina. Looking down the road, I see if I can find the place where Danny found me, but I can’t. It could have been farther up, but I know it’s this road because I can feelit like evil fingers tickling my skin, reminding me that I was here stranded and attacked four years ago.

Four Years Ago

DULCE

There were times when I wished I died with my parents. If it weren’t for my grandmother reminding me of all the beautiful things in this world, I would have done something to be with them. I never told a soul because there wasn’t anyone I could tell.

Perhaps it was her subconscious telling her she needed me. To take care of things when her cancer came back, and it wasn’t fair if I was gone too. But who would be with me when it was my time to go? I knew the answer before even thinking about it. No one because everyone hated my existence.

I thought of death many times since then. How would it happen? How would it feel? Where would I go? Would I float in the air or go out like the tide? Would it hurt? I knew the answer when I felt death was looming. I wanted to live, and I wanted the pain to stop.

My eyes open, and I take a large gulp of air. My lungs burn, making a strange sound like a broken bellows, each breath a short, wheezing burst. The pain between my thighs swallows me whole, like from rubbing alcohol in an open wound. I don’t remember a pain like this. This pain is anguish.

I sit up, and my head feels heavy like a brick. My clothes are completely gone, and I try to remember what happened when a trickle of something wet drips on the side of my face. My hair sticks to my neck. I wait for my eyes to focus in the dark. I place the palm of my hand on the ground, feeling the wet dirt and leaves on my fingers. The moonlight breaks through the trees,and I look down and see dirt, leaves, and…blood smeared over my skin. How I got here. Memories come flashing. Something crusty between my thighs. With trembling fingers, I touch the inner part of my thigh, hoping it’s from dirt. Except it isn’t dirt, it’s blood.

No. Please God, no.

I try to stand, but my wobbly legs feel like hundreds of needles are stabbing them. With a cry, I fall back down. I look up at where the moon kisses the trees while I try to breathe through the pain. When it subsides for a few seconds, I turn my head and follow the trees to the embankment and catch a glimpse of the road.

A twig snaps, and there’s a subtle rustling of leaves somewhere nearby.

Panic seizes my chest. Fear causes me to crawl up the embankment with a strangled cry, ignoring the burning pain with an electric jolt as my heart hammers like a drum. I make it up to the road. Using a tree trunk to pull myself up, I begin staggering down the asphalt.

Two headlights head toward me like yellow eyes on a black canvas, blinding me. Then the familiar red and blue lights flash like a beacon. A sob rips from my throat. My knees almost buckle when I flail my arms.

I let out a hoarse scream. “Please! Help!”

The car stops.

The headlights blind me. I let out a guttural cry when the familiar blue and red lights shut off. “Oh…please!God.”

I hear a car door open. “Ma’am?”

I shudder at the sound of the man’s voice. I cross my arms, my hands shaking as I tuck them between my legs, trying to cover my naked body. “Please,” I gasp.

“You’re saying you were supposed to be at prom with Ford Keller?” Detective Fisher says.

I stare at the white wall in the hospital, refusing to look at Detective Fisher directly standing across from me in his wrinkled black suit jacket and yellow collar on his white dress shirt from wearing too much cologne. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

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