I could have been a statistic, but instead, I chose to be a survivor.
That night changed my life forever.
My fear of cars was gone because once upon a time, a car took everything from me—my parents, my childhood—but that night, it brought me back to life and gave me a lifeline to start again.
I drove and drove until my eyelids grew heavy, and I needed to stop.I pulled into a run-down motel in the middle of nowhere and slept for two days.I was beyond exhausted—mind, body, and soul.
Once I woke, the extent of my injuries had come into full bloom.If I went to the police, there would be no question that I was assaulted.But that wasn’t the question I was concerned about.
I didn’t want to deal with the hours of questioning, the police attempting to pick apart what happened in hopes I would slip up and admit that it was all my fault.
I wasn’t welcome in Hollow Banks.
I was a freak.
An outsider.
An orphan.
No one would believe that what happened wasn’t my fault.I would be blamed, and the boys would merely get a slap on the wrist.
That’s why I never went back.
Once I was well enough, I got back into the car and continued to drive.
I was hoping to find some evidence in the car about who the boys were.But I didn’t find anything of use.Just a Zippo lighter with the initials “L11” engraved in it.I had that and the name Legs, which one of the fuckers let slip.
Other than that, nothing.
I expected time to bring healing and reflection, but it didn’t.I stayed numb.
I traded in the car at some dubious backyard shop before it was reported as stolen.They were happy to turn a blind eye and not ask questions.I had no resources to research the license plate and who the owner may be.So I bought myself another car.Nothing flashy.Just a car that would blend in with the others like it.
I had no real direction in mind.
I just drove.
I visited small towns briefly and left before staying too long.
I did this for months.
I never got lonely or bored.
I was never homesick for any place.
But I was homesick for a person.
Dandy.
He was my best friend, and it killed me to leave the way I did.But it was better this way.He could remember me as the young, innocent girl.Not the damaged woman who drove off into the night and never looked back.
I like to think that I did him a favor because if I stayed, he’d be the one to pick up the pieces.But I was shattered into a million tiny shards.I don’t think I’d ever be able to be put back together again.
It was better this way.
I was finally happy.
I was free.
