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I keep going forward, but I can only go left or right when I reach a crossroads. The GPS is telling me to do a U-turn and go back to where I came from.
“Are you for real? Just…ugh,” I sigh.
My phone needs to charge, except my charger is somewhere in my boxes.
Jordan has probably arrived at SFU by now.
Not knowing where to go, I turn right. The GPS calculates the route again, and I watch as it reroutes me back to the bridge.
“Come on,” I grunt. This, right here, is why I never use this thing. It’s never up to date.
Giving up on trying to find my way, I exit the road into the first parking lot. There’s a convenience store here, so maybe I can buy a charger or ask them if I can charge my phone.
I will buy a whole new phone if that’s what it takes to get me to leave this godforsaken town.
I park and turn the ignition off, but my hands go back to the steering wheel.
Come on, Alex. You can do this.
Instead of letting go of the wheel, my grip tightens.
What if I see someone in there?
What if they attack me?
Kidnap me?
Take me back to that house?
Cold sweats run down my spine, my muscles spasming as my throat closes.
One pearl at a time.
Just open the car door.
I let go of the wheel and open my door. Taking another deep breath, I get out. There’s no one in the parking lot and that already makes me feel a little better. Walking to the store, I push the door open, startling slightly when an electronic bell rings.
It’s the kind of store you find at a gas station. They probably have everything in here. There’s a large man behind a counter. He’s drinking from a can of Pepsi as his gaze scans me up and down.
I feel like I haveStoneviewRich Bitchwritten all over my face and that’s a sure way to be hated around here. If not that, then at least severely unwelcomed. My mind races, thinking of everything I wish I didn’t have on me right now. I’m in denim shorts and a white silk blouse, but it’s clear they’re the designer type. Not only that, but I’m wearing Jimmy Choo sneakers that I know for certain I paid over five hundred dollars for. My entire outfit is probably more than this man earns in a month, without even counting the forty-grand bracelet my dad forces me to wear. While I would fit in perfectly at SFU, it’s awakening how unnecessary it is to wear these things when confronted with someone who couldn’t afford them.
I force a weakhellopast my throat, though I don’t know if he hears it. If he does, he clearly doesn’t care. I watch his throat work for a few seconds as he gulps down his Pepsi, and I disappear into an aisle where he can’t see me. It’s only me in here, and I hurry to the small electronics section at the back corner. I look for my phone charger but can’t seem to find it. Wanting to check if it fits with the only chargers they have here, I tap my pockets to find my phone.
But it’s not there.
I left it in the car.
Anxiety makes me self-sabotage, and I hate myself for it. I throw my head back, huffing and trying to calm myself. That’s when I notice my charger on the top shelf.
Thank God.
I go on my toes to grab it, but I can’t quite reach. It’s not like I’m a small girl, but damn, why would they put it so high?
A few other chargers fall off as I try to grab the box I need, causing me to let out a loud sigh.
“Come on,” I huff.
I freeze when I feel a presence behind me. I watch helplessly as a large hand appears, the fingers grazing the back of mine until they reach the box, grab it, and disappear.
