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“Nothing was extraordinary about this woman. She looked like an average junkie mom, but unlike other junkies, she was always punctual. She would stand by the back door at exactly six o’clock in her pink fluffy robe and Bugs Bunny slippers, biting her nails, awaiting my arrival.
“Six o’clock rolled around, and she wasn’t there,” I say, my mind lost in the past. “I noticed the back door was unlocked, so I thought maybe she had passed out inside. I let myself in, but as I opened that door, whatever innocence I had left died with her on that filthy floor.”
Quinn’s captivated eyes, which watch mine closely, are the only reason I go on, as this memory is one better left buried.
“She was lying on her kitchen floor with a fucking needle hanging out of her arm, the tourniquet still wrapped around her bicep. She looked dead, but her chest was rising and falling. My brain told me to run, but I couldn’t leave her there if she was alive.
“I don’t remember the smell because the closer I got, all I could focus on was her chest, which was rising abnormally fast. When I was a few feet away, I toed her with my boot and asked if she was okay. She didn’t answer, and I couldn’t see her face because she was turned away.
“I asked her again if she was okay, and I crouched low, attempting to turn her face. But suddenly, all I could hear was a whisper of…scurrying. I could hear millions of legs scampering all around me.
“I listened intently because I couldn’t figure out the sound. And that’s when a fucking cockroach ran up my arm. As I looked down, the entire floor swarmed with bugs of all different shapes and sizes, and I realized the noise was coming from her. It was coming frominsideher.”
Quinn gasps, and I conclude my gory tale. “They were fucking eating from her like she was a buffet. I stood so quickly, I lost my balance, and I fell…on top of her. On top of them. It was like a bomb of every type of bug went off, and that’s when the smell hit me.
“In my panic of getting the fuck up, I somehow moved her, and she was staring at me, with only one glassy eye, as the other was an empty socket, eaten out by the spider using her skull as a nest. The louder I screamed, the more bugs emerged from her body. It was an endless sea of bugs coming out of every orifice,” I whisper, almost gagging at the memory.
“And that’s why you hate bugs,” Quinn finishes.
I nod in response.
“So I got this tattoo because if a man can walk on the moon, then anything is possible. I would look at it in my darkest hours and know I would be free one day.
“If a man could do such an amazing thing like walk on the moon, then I could do the simple thing of leaving my dad and live a normal life. Well, something like normal. And it’s better than getting a tattoo of a bug,” I add with a gasp as Quinn kisses up my arm, licking along the crease in my elbow.
“You’re right. Anything is possible,” he says. “And you’re proof of that.”
I raise my eyebrow, about to ask him what he means. But he presses his lips to mine, silencing me and my memories.
We drive through the night, stopping only when imperative, as getting to Canada is more vital than ever.I try my best to remain awake, but sadly, my beaten body is still healing, and sleep overcomes me often.
The sound of tires crunching over the open road and the low hum of the talk radio is my background noise for the next couple of days as Quinn allows me to sleep off my injuries. However, I think he also needs the silence to process everything that’s happened over the past couple of weeks.
From where we started to where we are now seems like a lifetime ago. But after this is over, I know things will never be the same. I know somethingbigis just around the corner. I just don’t know what.
“Red, are you awake?”
My sleep-induced brain recalls the significance of that phrase, as those exact words were spoken to me all those weeks ago. We may still be on the run, but so much has happened since then. And I know this is only the beginning.
“Where are we?” I grumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with the heels of my hands.
“Just outside Canada,” Quinn replies with a yawn. “I thought we could get some clothes and other stuff, seeing as we both need supplies.”
I open my heavy eyes, and thankfully, it’s the cusp of dusk because my irises can’t handle any sunshine.
“Good idea,” I say, looking up at Quinn since I have used his lap as a cushion. “Sorry.” I quickly jump up. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to drive with my head in his crotch.
“It’s okay,” he replies with a wink as he climbs out of the truck. “I like having your head in my lap.”
I smile and stifle a yawn behind my hand as I lock the door behind me.
“I so should not be tired,” I declare, and Quinn chuckles, reaching for my hand as we enter the department store.
The simple gesture of handholding shouldn’t give me such a rush, but it does. Quinn and I have come so far, and I just hope we keep moving forward.
“I’m just going to get some girlie things. Gimme five?”
Quinn nods, and we go our separate ways.
