Between Us and These Bones

3

It whispered in the air, droplets of rain splattered on my face, the wind intense and fierce rustling tree leaves.

I moaned in pain, scooting to the tree trunk, resting against it. I swallowed hard, my side aching, and touched my forehead. Blood smudged on my fingers tips, and I noticed rips in my jean jacket. Blood seeped into the fabric and my stomach churned.

Trey lived in an apartment with three roommates, a few blocks away from the University of Cincinnati. An hour and half away.

My stepfather was dead. My mom is missing. I had no phone. I had no money. I likely looked like road kill. The fuck did I do wrong to deserve this crap?

I walked along the road, trudging towards the gas station a few miles ahead, dazed and anxious. I made sure to pull my hood over my head, to keep people from recognizing me. I hadn't made it far from the place I jumped from the car, stumbling and pausing when pain ravaged my side.

It took me another twenty five minutes to reach the gas station, aching and feeling faint. I crept up behind an oak tree, using it for cover.

The gas station was old and dingy. I knew my mom and Jed came here to get their gas and anything else they needed if they didn't want to go to a grocery in town. I waited, trying to come up with a plan.

I needed to get to my brother, Trey.

An old Ford pulled up to the gas pumps, spitting out a puff of smoke from the muffler. The truck was the definition of rust bucket.

I watched as the driver got out, a middle aged man with dark hair and scruff on his face. He wore a heavy plaid shirt and jeans, his work boots untied. I studied him, watching as he stumbled around the truck, filling it with gas. Seconds later, he reached into his shirt pocket and took a cigarette out of its package. He slipped it between his lips and lit it.

"Dumbass," I muttered. In that moment, I knew what I had to do and this guy seemed like an ass, I wouldn't feel guilty about anything that happened within the next five minutes.

The man finished filling the gas tank and closed the cap. He threw his cigarette butt to the pavement, stomping on it with his boot, and stumbled inside.

I moved quickly - well, as quick as I could after falling down a ten foot embankment, for the truck. I hobbled along the side, crouching, hoping the man or the attendant didn't see me. 

Opening the drivers door, the stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol rolled out. I coughed, the smell blind siding me for a second before I slid into the seat, closing the door, and glanced down.

I managed to smirk despite the unbearable pain, the idiot left his keys in the ignition. I started it up, looking out the passengers window, seeing the man in the gas station, paying and talking with the attendant. He must have felt my stare, because he glanced up, doing a double take, before yelling.

Time to hit the road, I thought, gunning the engine and stepped in the pedal. The truck lurched forward and I drove like a bat out of hell, glancing up into the rear view mirror. The man was yelling profanities, shaking his fist at me.

Soon, the gas station faded from my sight and I got onto the highway, passing the signs that read Cincinnati, 70 miles. I blasted the radio to drown out my thoughts.

I just hope she's okay.

+++

"Trey ... your sister is here," Chester stated, a panicked whisper, "and she's ... she's not okay."