There are ways of dying that do not end with a funeral. Types of deaths you can't see, feel or smell. Because death, just like love, has a mind of its own and some things can't be prevented.
What started as an innocent high school quest in search o...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
We hit LA on Sunday, shortly after eight.
Carlos made a few stops during the drive, stopping to fill up the tank and buy some food at a gas station in Santa Cruz, then some hours later in Santa Barbara to take a short nap, which was more than understandable considering the drive took about fourteen hours.
I'm actually beyond surprised he didn't want to spend the night in another motel somewhere along the way and decided to make it all in one go. Most people, me included, wouldn't be able to hold their attention up to par for so long. Driving across two states has to be beyond exhausting. Hell, I'm exhausted and I'm not even the one sitting behind the wheel.
My stomach is in knots, has been for quite some time now, ever since we left Portland early in the morning, and the closer we get inside the city, the worse it gets. Part of me wishes I didn't have to come back. Didn't have to face the mess I've left behind, but I know that's just my wishful thinking. I don't know what to do first, whether going straight home – to my mother's house – or going back to my father's place is the better option. Both of them had been lying to me, keeping secrets and on top of that, there's also Rose who I know I'm bound to face at some point. And Aspen. And Timothy.
And I don't know what to expect.
I guess Carlos senses my apprehension because he asks, "So, where do you want me to take you?"
Away from here. Anywhere that's not here.
But I'm done running from my problems. I've been doing that for far too long and I know if I don't try to dig myself out this time around at least, I might get stuck in this cycle, forever looping in it until there's really no way out.
I breathe out heavily. "Which option feels better to you? They both suck. Either of them is going to leave you interrogated by one of two people you've been avoiding, so."
He squirms his shoulders up a little, clearly in discomfort just thinking about it. I don't really blame him. He fucked it up with his brother and he clearly still has feelings for my mother. Like I said, both options suck.
"I think it doesn't really matter at this point. I can bear a few minutes of torture." He looks over at me, side of his mouth curling up a little.
I roll my eyes at him, snorting out a laugh. "Russian roulette it is then."
And Russian roulette it is. Even though not in a way I'd think. Because instead of pulling in front of my mother's house, we pull up in front of my father's place.
"Not my mom's?" I ask him, surprised at his choice. I thought that's the option he'd pick.
"Your father will be a hard nut to crack. I think he's the worse option for you, so consider yourself damn lucky I'm saving your ass. Again." And with that, he cuts the engine off and gets out, slamming the door behind him.
I look over at the house, sighing, then I follow Carlos and get out. I don't have to worry about snatching a bag from the backseat because I don't have any. Even the shirt I'm wearing right now isn't mine.
