I don’t talk much these days. Driving on a nondescript road and miles of cornfields blending into each other. I spot a gas station and stop to fill up. I go in and buy a pack of Marlboro but don’t pay for the gas. It gets dark quick. Light a cigarette and take a drag. Flick it out the window.
Radio static drones in the background. Pick up a girl who needs a ride to Springfield. Her name’s Kathy. Something about her boyfriend leaving her at a motel. She’s pregnant, maybe. Can’t tell from the hoodie she’s wearing.
Tears glimmer in her eyes with each light we pass. I say nothing. I ditch her at a gas station. Keep driving. It’s three in the morning but I see a lot of cars. I wonder about the people driving the cars. Where are they going? Home. Vacation. Business trip. Funeral. Where am I going? I don’t know.
Stop when the gas runs out. I have four dollars in my pocket. Could steal more but what for. Cars race past. He said I’d find it here but I haven’t found anything. I feel empty and cold and alone. I start walking.
--
The boy picks me up. He’s no older than eighteen. I tell him my boyfriend left me and I need to go to Springfield. This is a lie. The boy nods but doesn’t speak, which makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know where Springfield is. It’s cold in the car and the radio is playing static. He doesn’t seem to mind. Or he doesn’t notice. I wrap my arms around myself. I look at the passing cars and think about what I’m going to do but stop because I don’t care anymore. There’s a blood stain on my jeans. He lights a cigarette. I wonder what he’s about. He stares straight ahead but his hands are shaking as he raises the lighter. He’s shaking so much he almost drops it. For some reason, this makes me cry. I wipe my eyes but they keep coming. We stop at a gas station. He hands me a five dollar bill and asks if I can get him a pack of Marlboro while he fills up. This is the first thing he’s said to me. His voice is deep and sad. I know he won’t be there when I get out. I ask the cashier for change to use the payphone even though I don’t have anyone to call. I sit in the booth and watch the trucks coming in. I wonder who I’m going to sleep with tonight. I hope he’s gentle and has big arms and will hold me.
--
Cunt. Get out. You fucking cunt.
The girl stumbles out of the motel room. Young, nineteen maybe twenty. She’s naked and shivering and crying. She collapses in the parking lot. There are bruises all over her body and blood running down her face. I run out of my car. She looks at me with one eye bruised shut. Do you need help? Of course she does. Let me take you to the hospital. I take my coat off and cover her with it. I guide her to the car then run to the main office, ask where the nearest hospital is. There’s a girl hurt real bad, don’t ask questions, I need to know where the fucking hospital is. You need to call the police. The guy who did this to her is still in the room.
I sit in the waiting room. I’m on autopilot. Someone else is talking to the doctors and the police. Someone else is waiting here to see that she gets out alright. I’m on the inside looking out. These arms aren’t mine. I watch them pick up the phone and dial Sarah.
“Hi. I’m at the hospital. I found a girl. She was hurt. I took her to the hospital. I’m going to wait here and see if she needs anything. I’ll call you before I leave.”
The arms want to hang up the phone but the voice on the other end keeps asking questions. Questions the face can’t answer, won’t answer. Where have I been? Why wasn’t I at work? I just want to sleep.
--
He tells me he loves me. He tells me he would never do anything to hurt me. He tells me he cares about me more than anyone in the world. He tells me he wants to do this because he thinks it would bring us closer together. I listen to his lies and smile all the time, he thinks I’m a virgin, he thinks I’m a virgin.
When it’s over, we lie in bed and share a joint. My cell phone rings. It’s Mom and she’s screaming. Where am I? I need to go home. Something’s happened and I need to go home. Stop asking questions and just do what she says for once in my life. Please (she cries when she says this). Please. I tell her okay, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I take the joint from him and finish it. We fuck one more time. I get up and put my clothes on. I lie back down. We fuck again. My phone rings. I throw it against the wall. I tell him I’ll be right back. I take my keys and drive out of the parking lot. It’s dark and pouring but I’m cool, collected. I can make it home in fifteen minutes if I speed but it’s raining out and I shouldn’t speed I need to think this through Mom’s going to kill me I’m hours late my phone’s on the floor and she’s calling, furious, she’s going to take the car away she’s going to take the fucking car away I’m speeding forty-five, fifty, sixty, seventy don’t brake too hard or you’ll skid that’s all I need to remember I’ll be fine as long as I can remember that rain’s pounding against the windshield and the wipers can’t clear it fast enough I shouldn’t have driven I took a wrong turn somewhere it’s half past nine what am I doing stop the car we’re done stop the car don’t cry you stupid bitch don’t fucking cry we’re done turn the lights off.
--
I miss it sometimes.
Like Quibbon said earlier, it needs a point. Keeping in mind that this is still just the first part, you should have something to draw the reader in, reassure them that they're not just reading for the sake of reading.
Thanks for posting! It was really good! =D