Page 51 of Saints & Sailors

We got into his car and as if to piss me off, Dreux set the radio on a rap station. The loud, demanding lyrics for me to “pop that shit” made me scowl at the stereo system.

Dreux looked my way, smirking, as if to rub it in.

He set the car into gear and backed out of the driveway, leaving the horrid song to serenade us.

The doors locked and I remained with my seat belt unfastened. I started feeling antsy and trapped, even if I was just in a car, and Dreux of all people wasn’t a threat.

It dawned on me as Dreux was taking what appeared to be a scenic route to school, driving a long stretch of road under a tunnel of reddish-orange leaves on tall trees, that I had no control.

My life back home with my mother was filled with my freedom and ability to do whatever I wanted, and now it’d been snatched from me, leaving me powerless in Scott’s grasp. Not only that, I now had a chauffeur and a job I did not want.

My skin felt as if it were on fire and I needed to scream.

“Stop the car,” I said.

Dreux looked at me as if I were crazy and kept driving.

I slapped the dashboard. “Stop the fucking car!”

The car came to a halt, and before Dreux could fully turn and face me, opening his mouth to speak, I shot out of the car and took off running.

We were on the back side of town where nothing was around but the woods on either side of me.

I ran down the road, feeling my feet hit the pavement hard as my lungs began to swell.

When I could take no more, I stopped, planting my palms to my knees as I bent over gasping for air.

And then I screamed as loudly as I could.

I would rather die.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ever cried, but right then, I felt it coming.

I was stuck here, against my will, and I had never felt more alone in my entire life.

Pavement or not, I sat down right where I was and I stared ahead of me at the road, paralyzed by my plight.

No other cars were driving by, but if they were, their passengers would probably see a poor girl in the middle of a breakdown.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat with my knees pulled to my chest before Dreux came around me, staring at me impassively.

He tugged nervously on the hooped earring in his ear, watching me with caution. What I didn’t catch when I looked up into his eyes was sympathy. “Get up.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Just leave me here.”

“Quit being dramatic,” he told me. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Fuck you,” I breathed out.

Dreux rolled his eyes. “You have such an expansive vocabulary.”

“Fuck you.”

“My point exactly.”

He didn’t get it, and of course Mr. Perfect St. Julien didn’t.

“I don’t belong here!”