AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Because he knew I had my chance.
I gasp when I see the smoke unfurling eerily slow in my backseat. The snap of flame. A monster cloud of mayhem.
No.
I shake my fried brain out if its fatigued daze.
It’s not real. I’m imagining it.
My stomach cramps, and I exhale a long breath.
I glance down at my left arm in its dull yellow cast.
How does that feel, Aiden? Someone taking away what you love.
Eyes narrowed, I steer through the sleet. The snow-covered road stretches out in front of me like a never-ending landing strip.
Up ahead, a neon vacancy sign illuminates a motel strip. A sliver of hope fills me. My weary body screams for a bed, for food, even if it is a bag of chips, a coin of Rolos from a vending machine. I allowed myself a short pit stop back in Minnesota, where I napped for twenty minutes at a gas station. Except for that, I haven’t stopped driving.
Everything in me aches. I ache for what I’ve given up, for what comes next.
What I’ll tell my father, my town.
Golden girl. Magna cum laude. Homecoming queen. Daydreamer. Chef.
My entire life I have been everything to everyone. Tonight, I may as well add liar to the mix.
The turn comes up so fast I almost miss it.
I slam the brakes and jerk the wheel, but overcompensate, turning weakly one-handed. Gravel flies as the old Jeep spins. My stomach sours, acrid bile hitting my throat. The Jeep slides a few inches forward into the ditch, and then it sighs to a stop.
No.
I grab the keys, turning hard, willing for it to start. But the Jeep stays horrifically motionless.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I whisper hoarsely.
There are not enough miles between me and Aiden. Sooner or later, he’ll catch up with me.
My palms dampen on the steering wheel. The cab of the jeep fills with the sound of my labored breathing.
I can’t let him win. He already took my arm and my bakery, he’s not taking anything else from me.
I want to be safe.
I want to live.
I want to be free.
Help. I need help.
Before I left home, my father had pulled me aside under the awning of his old cabin and pressed a hundred-dollar bill in my hand. He kissed my cheek and told me, “Don’t be too proud to come back home, you hear?”
Another voice rings in my ears.
Rugged. Deep.
A voice I’ve clung to the last six years, but foolishly ignored.
