Page 8 of Seeing Grayscale

I eyeball the inside of his fancy car, the fragrance of the leather so potent I can smell it from here. I took his ‘help’ once already, and it cost me more than I was willing to give—more than I ever thought I’d have to give. Eventually, that cost is going to fuck with my head, but I’m too numb to care—too hurt to notice the damage past what is physical.

If evil is defined by those who look upon suffering and donothing, then I guess this guy isn’t evil.

He’s worse.

He’s a promise, and promises are very rarely ever kept.

The seats are heated.

I can’t decide if it’s helping or making the pain worse.

Vulnerability threatens to swallow me whole without my backpack and hoodie—without my knife. I’ve never felt so naked while fully clothed before. Potent, spicy cologne mixes with theleather, overwhelming and stark against the grime wafting off me.

As we pull out of the parking lot, I almost push the passenger door open and roll out onto the street.

My heart races as a cold sweat clings to my skin. Most people would be kissing the ground at this guy’s feet, but I’m watching the safest place I’ve ever known in my entire adult life vanish in the side mirror. I have nothing to grab onto, nothing to hide behind. There’s no familiar bite of cold to keep me alert, no weapon to arm myself with. Not that any of it helped me yesterday, but fuck. This confined, warm space is too much.

Claustrophobia consumes me for too long that I blink, and we are long gone from 2nd Street.

“What’s your name?”

“Does it matter?” I breathe, trying so hard not to show how scared I am. Adrenaline punches through my chest when we head towards the highway. “We’re leaving town? Why are we leaving?” Panic coils around my vocal cords.

I twist in my seat to look over my shoulder, my ribs protesting the entire time.

“You never told me where you wanted to go, so I was going to—”

“Turn around!”

“My family owns a—”

“TURN AROUND!” I shriek, reaching for the door handle while unfastening my seatbelt.

He pulls over just before the onramp, clicking on the hazard lights, and I launch from the car. My entire body is numb as I do a slow circle in place, holding the top of my head with one hand while the other clings to my ribs. With wild eyes, I search for landmarks, anything to ground me, to let me know I’m not too far. It all blurs together, though, as my only working eye puddles over with tears.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the rich boy says carefully.

“Fuck this,” I snarl and start walking away. Slowly. Limping so severely that I trip and fall. My knees hit the asphalt, and I yelp.

“We can stay local. That’s fine.”

“We?What do you meanwe?” I snap my head to look at him, arms trembling while I try and fail to push myself off the ground.

A hand shoots out. Clean, short nails tip his fingers, and I don’t spot a single callous. “Come on, I know that hurts.” He dips his chin to my leg.

Meeting his gaze, I swallow the lump in my throat and take his hand. He easily pulls me to my feet, placing a steady hand on my elbow when I wobble. He lets me go once he’s sure I won’t tip over. “Where do you want to go?”

Where do I want to go? Ha!

I want to go back in fucking time before my only living relatives got plowed into by a semi! I want to beg my parents to stay home and not go on their date night! I want to go eleven miles to the edge of town and demand the people living at the end of Chrysaline Streetleavemy fucking house. That’s what I fucking want.

He asks where I want to go.

I want to gohome.

But that isn’t going to happen.

“Wherever. Just not outside of town,” I grumble and limp back to his car.

---