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What the fuck does that make me?
It’s raining tonight and that fits my mood, but it sure as hell makes seeing difficult as fuck—especially when you’re bone tired. I blink because the rays of my headlights flicker off of something in the road. At first, I think it’s a dog or something. I slow down and turn the wipers up another notch. The sound of the worn rubber squeaking against the windshield fills the cab.
“What the fuck?” I hiss as I finally realize it’s a woman standing beside the road. I slow down and come to a stop. The beam of my headlights shine on her. She steps back, staring at me but not walking toward my vehicle. The rain has her hair plastered on her head. She’s wearing shorts and a flimsy white T-shirt that swallows her small frame. It’s cool outside and she’s not wearing a jacket and has flip flops on her feet. I throw the truck into park, open my door, and move outside.
I stand across from her on the yellow line in the deserted, paved road and she’s on the shoulder, the white line under her sandal. I swallow as—even despite the rain—I can see that she’s in bad shape. There’s blood coming from her nose. Her cheek is cut and it’s hard to make out, but the right side of her entire face appears swollen. Actually, it’s her eye that is almost swollen together. There are scratches and bruises dotting her small arms and even on her legs. I don’t know if she’s been in a wreck or what’s going on, but this girl definitely needs help.
“Are you okay?” I ask, making my voice loud enough to be heard over the rain and my truck.
Neither one of us need to be out in this cold rain, that concern is secondary to finding out what is going on with this girl. I need to take her to the hospital, but she’s wrapped her arms around her body,. Her head is down like she’s afraid to look me in the eyes. She’s shaking and I get the feeling it’s more from fear than the cold. I’m picking up a bad feeling off this little slip of a girl. It’s easy to tell this is just a bad situation.
She shakes her head, but I can’t tell if she’s saying no to me or just trying to shake some of the rain from her face so that she can watch me closer.
“Were you in an accident? Do I need to call the police?” I ask, trying to make her more comfortable by seeing I’m only here to help her.
“N-n-no,” she stutters. “I just n-n-need to get away.”
That churning in the pit of my stomach intensifies. Back home in Macon, there was this girl I went to school with—Lisa. We were the same age. She was sweet and funny. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Katie, I would have asked her out. She fell into the wrong crowd—most notably Tim Barnes. Tim would use Lisa as his personal punching bag. The whole county knew it and most of us reported the son of a bitch, but Lisa would never press charges and no matter how hard any of us tried, Lisa just keptgoing back. We knew it was only a matter of time before the bastard killed her. It turned out, he didn’t. No, Lisa took her own life and the sadness in that never left me.
This girl has the same expression that Lisa used to wear. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am at all.
“Can I take you into town? You don’t even have to talk to me. I’ll just give you a drive into town—or even into the next. Whatever you want.”
She doesn’t answer me. She just stands still, staring at me, trying to keep her gaze focused on my face and mostly still losing that battle. Her body is trembling so much that I can’t stand it. I take off my coat. The outside of it is wet, but it’s waterproof, so the inside is dry and warm. I take a few steps toward her. I see the panic fill her features as I reach out the coat with one hand and putting the other up in a stop motion. I’m trying to be careful. I hope she can tell from my actions that I mean no harm. She stares at my hand before taking the coat and putting it on.
“I promise you that it may not feel like it, but you’re safe,” I try to assure her. She walks to the truck and gets inside. For some reason, that makes me breathe easier and I get back in the driver’s side. I reach behind me and grab an old towel I keep back there. It’s not the cleanest ever was but it will work. I offer it to her without saying anything else and she tentatively takes it. The light in the cab is faint at best, but I can tell the wounds and bruises on her body are worse than I thought. The girl is so small that the thought of anyone raising a hand to her fills me with rage. Once she wipes her face, she hands it back. I smile and dry off quickly before putting it down. I want to throw it back out of the way, but I don’t want to make any sudden actions and scare her more.
“My name is Jeff.”
“Rylee Taylor.”
“Hi, Rylee. Where would you like me to take you.”
“Uh…”
“I can drive you to a hotel somewhere close, or even Memphis?” I offer, mentioning the nearest city. I’m traveling backroads because I just prefer them late at night.
“I don’t know…”
“I’m actually going to Dandridge, so I can take you anywhere you want.”
“Cordova will be okay…” she murmurs nervously.
“Sounds good. Where’s your clothes and things? Did your car breakdown somewhere around here?”
“No. I left kind of quickly. I uh…forgot my suitcases at the house. I did pack them, but things got….”
“Complicated,” I supply, not wanting to bombard her with questions.
“Give me the address and I will go get them,” I tell her, my throat feeling tight. Whoever this bastard is that hurt her he needs the shit kicked out of him.
“N-n-no. I can’t go back there. Besides it’s not that important. You can always get new clothes, right?”
“Rylee, I’d venture to say you don’t have a dollar in your pocket to even pay for the hotel—let alone clothes. That gives us two choices.”
“W-w-what choices?”
“You either let me give you money to pay for hotel and food, as well as clothes, or we go get your stuff. You choose, honey.”
