Highway

Amelia, Sunday night, Freezing

I’m freezing my ass off. I should have brought a jacket. Or a scarf. Or a jumper. Or maybe I shouldn’t have left the house. I sighed. Just my luck, we were in the last few days of spring and tonight just had to be one of those miraculous winter nights.

Great, and I still needed a smoke.

Perhaps I should go home, because damn, I’m starving too. I looked around. Terrific. Brilliant. This is just fucking excellent. I have no clue where I am.

How could I get lost!? I’ve been living in this neighbourhood for thirteen years. How could I get lost? Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I hate life. I hate life because I don’t have a cigarette and I desperately wish I knew where I was.

I took a step in what I hoped was the right direction.

“Give me the fucking gun, Ben.”

“No. I don’t have it; how many times do I have to tell you?” I froze. My heart stopped beating for a second. My eyes widened at the voices and I think I may have just stepped in dog shit.

“Listen, mate, I ain’t got the time to listen you giving me a mouthful of lies. I know you got the gun, so just hand it over and we’ll pretend we never met.”

“Fuck you. I’m not lying; I don’t have the gun.”

“I don’t believe you, where is it?”

“Jess’ got it.”

Oh man. I needed to get out of here. If they knew I’d been listening I’d be in for it. They had guns. They could possibly kill me. I don’t wanna die yet. I still have a few more years left. And a couple more smokes.

Silently I took a fast pace into the direction I was heading.

“Don’t fucking lie to—oi!” Oh shit. I think they just spotted me. Ignore them, a conscience was telling me desperately. Ignore them. Keep walking. Just keep it up. Pretend you don’t know that they’re talking to you. Play stupid.

“Hey, kid!” Holy crap. Holy crap. God, I have the worst reactions to these situations. Like repeating myself. But I continued walking.

That is until I felt a hand close around my shoulder and spin me around. Oh god. They’re going to kill me. Fucking hell. I’m going to die.

“Uh… w-what?” I asked, my mouth dribbling words out. Stuttering was a bad habit of mine when I’m in the face of danger. I looked at his face. Man. He was butt-ugly. Seriously. His eyes were a dull brown, his hair was terribly messy. His face was distorted.

“You dropped this.” He placed a pen into my hand. And then he left.

What a nice man.