Young Writers Society

Day Four

Hitchhiking.

Having never needed to do so before, I can't deny that I'm more wary than usual. But nervous? Hardly. I have seen the kind of people I should avoid. I have killed them.

I look down at my clothes. They're still somewhat clean from the fall, but the tears in the fabric aren't something I can avoid. My hair on the other hand...

After pulling my fingers through my hair and detangling it to the best of my ability, all that's left is looking much older. From what I've seen, people are too friendly when you look younger. There's not much I can do with what I have but tying my hair back a certain way, standing with a particular posture, and shaping my expression can give a a few years at best.

Thumb out, I walk out towards the road. I'm hoping for a family to pass through, maybe to enjoy the view of the cliff or to go hiking. I prefer to focus on that rather than the alternatives.

I probably passed this road for a second when we were still driving. With it being so close to where Harold parked his truck, it's likely this is where I thought of the plan to save Rory. A lump forms in my throat at the reminder, but I put it out of my mind. I look back to where I came from- almost parallel to this beaten path. I had been aiming to find Harold's truck and I guess when I did, I just couldn't stand its constant presence as I walked up the road. Subconsciously, I think I curved back into the woods to avoid the painful feelings that emerged.

When I's seen that Harold ditched the truck, I'd only really felt angry for one reason. He'd taken the keys. It had left me with no way to drive it. A scowl had formed itself on my face as I remembered how he'd promised to teach me how to hot-wire a car in an emergency- a promise he'd forgotten to fulfill. But then having seen the empty truck for longer than a second, I realized I'd also felt surprised. It would make have made more sense to escape with it than leave it so close to where her body would eventually be found.

I sigh, suddenly angry at myself again. It's my fault just as much as all the other deaths I inflicted were. It was never personal- not even now- but something about Rory's stayed with me. It may have not come from my own two hands, but Harold would have never forced her to come with us if he hadn't seen her at the house. The only difference between her and all the others was that she was innocent. Maybe that's why I just can't get her off my mind.

Again, my mind drifts back to Harold. I hadn't even left him a letter. The window was open, and I saw a pen just sitting there on his dashboard. But I just couldn't make myself reach for it. If he knew I was alive, he would look for me- I'm sure of it. He would eventually find me and try to convince me to come back. "It was to protect you- us. Everything I do is to protect us." I can almost hear him say in my head. But his intentions wouldn't make a difference. She is dead and my stupid self just can't get over it.

I think what makes it worse is that my last glimpse at her face was her concern for me. She had turned because she was worried for my sake. Her expression, the alarm in her voice, as she watched me fall could have cost her time she had to get away. Again, my fault. I think back to my terrible mistake showing up at her house and grind my teeth.

The low rumble of an engine grows in my ears and I turn to see what's heading my way. The poorly painted red body of the car is accented with a storm grey bumper and panels. The hood is dented and discolored. Immediately, I can tell this isn't the one. I drop my hand and start slinking back towards the woods, but the driver has already noticed me and begins to slow.

"Hey there girly, you lost?" The window rolls down, revealing a middle-aged man. After a quick glance at the interior, I notice how disorganized and trashed it is. From the looks of it, he'd been living in there for awhile. Another glance back at him and I notice how white his knuckles are against the wheel.

I wrinkle my face and hunch my back. "I'm fine. Don't let me stop you."

He gives me a pitying smile and puts his elbow out over the ledge. "Don't look like it. You on the run from someone? Your arm doesn't look like it's holding up well."

I force a smile. "My dad's truck is broken. It's up the road if you want to see. We need a lift, but he says to wait for a certain type. No offense."

The man narrows his eyes and looks around me. Trying to spot my "dad", I'm guessing.

"None taken. Where is your dad by any chance?"

I roll my eyes, keeping my composure almost careless. "Taking a piss. I'd get him for you, but he won't be glad I'm talking with a stranger."

"I'm sure he wouldn't. I might like to wait though, to make sure he finds his way back to you alright."

I shake my head. "I'm fine, my dad gave me a glock to avoid unsavory... people." By habit, I reach towards my back pocket before remembering I left the gun in Harold's front seat. Silently, I curse myself for being so careless. Maybe I injured my head more than I thought.

From the car, the man chuckles, holding up both hands. "S'no need for that. I just want to be a good guy and make sure your daddy gets back without you finding any trouble."

I'm about to break for it when I recognize another engine sound getting closer. It's an SUV with a luggage rack securing multiple bags on the roof. The car slows and the driver's window rolls down.

"Hey kid, you know that guy?" It's the voice of a younger man. I check quickly and see that there's also a younger woman in the car. I know I've struck gold when the gurgle of a baby can be heard from the back seat.

"We're fine, thank you." The older man snaps.

"Uncle Finn?" I lie, my smile brightening my face, "I thought dad couldn't get through to you on the phone! Thanks for stopping."

At first the man looks slightly confused, but who I presume is his wife grips his arm and murmurs something quietly. All at once, his face breaks out into a less than convincing smile.

"I- I thought you would be around here! Where's, er- where's your dad?" His attention turns to the man in the car in front of him. "You can move on pal, I've got it from here."

The man ignores him and turns back to me. "You sure you know this fellow? Say, your dad has been gone an awfully long time."

I start walking towards the car with the family, trying my best not to show my limp. "Sure I do. I thought my dad couldn't get ahold of Uncle Finn, but I guess the message went through. I'll wait with him and my aunt until my dad gets back."

The man in the car grimaces. He seems to understand he lost and speeds away without another word.

"Sweetie, are you okay? Do you need a ride somewhere?" This time it's the woman speaking.

"Yes, I would." I respond, reaching for the back door handle. She seems to notice I avoided the first question but doesn't press. "Thank you for stopping."

She nods, reaching back to move a bag from the backseat. I climb in making eye contact with the small baby beside me. It shakes its hand in what I think is a wave.

"So uh," the man struggles for words, "Where do you need to go? I'm guessing your dad was just an excuse."

I reach over to fasten the seatbelt with my non-injured hand. "The nearest hospital, if you don't mind."