Page 9 of Red Obsession

Throwing the door open, I move across the parking lot my F-150. Unlocking it, I throw my bag into the back seat, before moving to the front door and climbing inside.

I watch as Izel…fuck, even her name fits her. Different, outspoken… annoying, and talkative.

The passenger door opens, and Izel looks up at me, her eyes frowning at the ground.

“Hey, you giraffe, you got a stepstool over there?” she asks, finally glancing back up at me.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. I’m afraid if I speak more than two words to her, I’ll spill secrets and end up wanting her to stay. When I desperately need her to be gone and out of my space.

From the corner of my eye, I catch her backing up. I don’t have time to ask her what she’s doing. I don’t have time to go chasing her around.

You fucking liar.

Izel starts to sprint towards the truck. I have no idea what she plans to do, not until she’s moments from hitting the side of my truck.

“Stop!” I bark. My voice is coming out rough, but she stops. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She furrows her brows as if I asked such an off-ball question. I didn’t, I just can’t fathom what she’s doing. “Stop looking at me like that,” she hisses at me. “I asked if you had a stepstool, and you ignored me. So, it was either try to run and jump or ask you to come help me into your giant butt of a truck. And since you look moments away from either hitting me upside the head or leaving me in this parking lot.”

There is so much to unwrap in what she is saying.

“So, either I run and jump into your too big of a truck, and I mean come on. Why do you need such a big vehicle that I can’t even hike my leg up to get inside?” She huffs, shoving her red hair behind her ear. I wonder what it feels like. Her hair looks smooth. It’s probably soft and silky.

Izel rolls her eyes, once again backing away.

This time I don’t let her get far enough, and I’m out of my truck. My feet move on their own accord. Walking around the truck I stand by the passenger side.

“Come here,” I order.

Much to my surprise she does what I tell her, only stopping directly in front of me. Bending I grab the back of her thigh, lifting her into the truck. Now I should have backed away and shut the door, but my brain apparently doesn’t work around her because I’m reaching across her lap with the seatbelt, clicking it into place.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Nodding my head in acknowledgement, I shut her door before getting into the driver's side. Taking a deep breath, I start my truck, pulling out of the parking lot. Heading to the bus station, I fight with myself. I have no reason for wanting to be close to her or wanting to go with her wherever she’s going. She’s just a random girl who doesn’t mean anything to me.

Or so I keep telling myself.

Thankfully, she doesn’t talk once while I drive forty minutes to the station. Parking my truck near the entrance, neither of us speak as we both watch the building. With it not being busy this morning she’ll have no problem buying a ticket.

Suddenly it dawns on me, she’s been trapped inside a cage for God knows how long. She doesn’t have anything on her. She’s literally wearing my clothes, my damn slippers.

Pulling out my wallet from the side door, I hand her all the cash I have in there. I can always get more.

“Here,” I tell her, holding out the money.

Izel turns towards me, but she doesn’t look at my hand or say anything. Unsure what to do, I decide to grab her hand and shove the money into it.

She tries to hide her flinch by crouching “What’s this?” she asks, finally looking down.

“To get a bus ticket, and whatever else you need. It’s about a grand, it’ll help get you where you’re going,” I mumble, unsure about my actions now. I should have asked, or at least said something. “I can get you more if you think you need it, I’m not su–”

“Thank you,” Izel interrupts me. Tucking the money into her pocket, her eyes swing back towards the bus station. “I never thanked you for getting me out of the cage. So, well, thank you. I’d probably end up rotting there if it weren’t for you.” Leaning across the middle console, she kisses my masked cheek. My throat closes, choking on emotions that have no place being there. “Goodbye, Zion Rain.”

I’m so surprised by her actions that I don’t speak, at a loss of what I’m feeling. I watch her climb out of my truck and run into the bus station.

What is it about this girl that makes me feel so… comfortable? Yet uncomfortable.

Not once did she look at me like I was insane, like most people do. They take one glance at me and either run or piss themselves. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy them being terrified. I live for it. It’s part of my job to scare people and to kill them.

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