Page 14 of A Love Like Venom

My old Toyota Corolla hasn’t let me down yet.

It’s why I’ve given her the nickname White Knight.

There’s no use of dreaming about one when my Corolla has saved me on multiple occasions.

Grace swings her makeshift crossbody bag over her shoulder, tossing me a warm smile. “Text me when you get home.” She warmly reminds me.

She doesn’t trust my White Knight as much as I do. The girl looks at my car like it’s a death trap, which is kind of ironic because hers isn’t any better. But with mine being a few years older she says hers is the safer bet.

Technically, I can’t argue with that logic. Her car doesn’t have as many problems as mine that I’ve been putting off.

But my White Knight is beating the odds.

I do have a sense of pride every time I drive her. She was the first thing I had bought after I had saved up enough money.

Besides, White Knight and I share many of memories.

She kept me comfort on the lonely nights. Gave me an escape from my mother and sister. Lent me a place to cry and let out my frustrations when my mother’s boyfriends would get tootouchy.

My White Knight has become my new best friend and savior.

And she hasn’t left me.

So, yeah, I’m sentimental about a piece of junk metal.

But when you grow up with nothing and the people you love leave, you appreciate what you have more.

“You know you’re hurting her feelings,” I tease Grace. Carrying my books close to my chest we both descend the lecture hall steps to the exit.

Rolling her eyes, she laughs. One where it comes from deep in her belly. “That is the least of that car’s worries, trust me.”

In the end she may be right, but I’ll never tell her. “So, I guess I’ll see you at work tonight?”

“You mean Hell?” She laughs again except this time it’s filled with dread. The feeling is entirely mutual. I have to remindmyself working there is just a means to an end. Eventually we will both make it out of here.

“Yeah. Hell,” I softly agree with her.

“I’m working tonight. In fact, I’m trying to rearrange my work schedule along with yours,” she tells me.

“Why would you go through the hassle of doing that?”

“Because you’re my friend,” she answers too quickly. Giving her a pointed look, I demand the real answer. She sighs in resignation. “Fine. But you are my friend, you know.”

“I know.”

She stops once we reach the parking lot. Standing in front of me I see the worry in her eyes. “He’s been more persistent lately.” Her voice is hushed, as if she’s telling me a secret. Truth is we are scared to mention those men around this part of town. Afraid if we say their names, we will conjure them up out of thin air. Unfortunately, they have eyes and ears everywhere.

“I can handle it.”

“I know,” she begins, “but it doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Before I can think better of it, I wrap her up in an abrupt hug. Knowing that someone cares, values my life, warms my heart. It reminds me that good people, people like Grace, exist. “Thank you,” I whisper, swallowing back the emotion clogging my throat.

Embracing me back she replies, “One day, Alice, you’ll be free just as you always dreamed.”

Maybe it’s the embrace. Maybe it’s how much she cares about me, but I find myself voicing my greatest fear. Vulnerability cracking through my brick walls. “And what if it’s just a dream?”

Grace pulls me in tighter. The strength of her embrace crushing my bones. “You listen to me Alice Hall, one day you will get out of here. And that day is soon.”

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