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Pure Coincidence (2)
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 Created on 10-28-07
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"So that's why there is a psychotic man throwing my car off of a cliff and sending us on a high speed chase across what seemed like half the county?" he asked calmly.
"Well, basically, yeah. Although, I think your car got thrown off of a cliff mostly because of your smart mouth."
"I didn't exactly realize what we were dealing with at the moment." He said snidely.
We fell silent for a moment. I knew there would be more questions to come, and I dreaded answering them. But for some reason, I trusted this relative stranger. I felt comfortable with him, which was odd, because 'comfortable' would not be a word I would use to describe this whole situation.
"So, is the body in your trunk, too?" He asked, interrupting my thoughts. I looked back over at him, and he had a silly grin on his face. I didn't know what there was to smile about at the moment. I had stolen a large amount of cocaine from a well-known drug dealer whom I had killed, had somehow dragged this stranger into it, and was now being hunted by the dangerous associate of the man I had killed, who was more upset about the loss of the coke than the death of his friend. Somehow, though, I found myself smiling back at him.
"No, actually."
"Do you mind my asking why exactly you needed to kill this person?"
I got quiet again, thinking about the question and the memories that it made prominent in my mind. I was off in another world, one set in the past that I hoped so much I had escaped. I could see the flashes of color as he threw me to the ground; feel the thick grogginess that would overcome me right before I passed out. I could taste the sharp iron taste of my own blood leaking down my face and into my mouth. And all the while he had been there, standing over me, laughing. He always enjoyed the power he had over someone who couldn't, or wouldn't help herself. I had been that someone for too long when I'd reached the breaking point.
For the first time since this entire ordeal started I wondered if I had made the right decision. Could I get away with this? Or was I going to lose my own life in the end? I started to panic, realizing that somehow, it was all going to end badly. It occurred to me that if Brett didn't get to me first, eventually the police would figure out that I had been the one who'd done it, and I'd spend my life in prison. Either way it didn't look good for me at this point.
I could just turn myself in, I thought. They go easier on people who do that, don't they? I was wondering whether I would rather live out my life in a cell, or just die, when I felt Kale's hand on my shoulder.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine, Carson." He said, making his point by brushing a tear off of my cheek with his thumb. His eyes looked suddenly softer, like he really wanted to make me feel better but didn't know how.
I looked him up and down, taking in his designer jeans that hung at his hips just so, his neat button-up collared shirt that before this adventure had been perfectly pressed. His loafers were obviously made from some kind of expensive leather, maybe Italian. I remembered his brand new BMW before it had been thrown from the cliff. Kale's entire persona screamed "rich boy" at me, and it alienated me from him, because I couldn't talk to someone about my past who didn't know anything about where I was coming from.
In comparison to his neat, nice appearance, I was a mess. My hair was in a windswept tangle, my tight low-rise jeans were frayed and a little dirty, and my vintage Beatles t-shirt had a hole in the right sleeve. I'm sure my eyes seemed even more bloodshot after the recent bout of crying.
Kale saw me looking him over and didn't flinch, letting me make my little comparisons. He looked me right in the eyes when I was done. He didn't act like he felt guilty as some rich people do, and he didn't look down on me. He just looked at me, his eyes letting me know that he realized that we were coming from different places, that he accepted it, and that he didn't really care.
"Why don't we go find somewhere to get cleaned up, take some showers," He said finally, "And then you can tell me the whole story."
"It's a long story." I said simply, hoping that maybe he wouldn't want to hear it.
"I think we'll have quite a bit of time to talk about it while we're hiding from your friends."
"Kale, you don't need to hide. I'll drop you off wherever you want me to, and then I'll just… do whatever I need to do."
"What do you mean I don't need to hide? They're after me too now, and I already know too much. I think we're stuck with each other, for now at least." He said, his eyes forbidding me to object.
"This isn't your problem, this is my problem. I don't want to involve you." I objected.
"I'm already involved, Carson."
"I guess you are." Sighing, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to tell him the whole story, background and all. "How about that shower?"
He smiled.
Comments
Please Login to post comments| On November 27th 2007 onaipwolf Said : | |
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I was so happy when I realized you had already written part two. This really is a good beginning for a story, and I think it would be great to keep writing. :) |
| On October 29th 2007 HSandyI Said : | |
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I really like it, keep me posted |
