Dean Booth was face first in a road of glass as wailing coaxed him back to reality. His eyes pried themselves open, their lashes brushing away dust with one bat. The chestnut irises quivered and shone with tears. Dean pressed a palm into the glass and went to push himself away from the ground when his ears rang louder than the screaming. He let tears drop from his eyes to clear his vision enough to see the notorious red and blue. He wasn't in trouble, was he? Dean's heavy skull swiveled to the side, but he could only assume the silver he saw was the front of his car, and the object under it was a tire. He turned back to the lights and stared until he could see twelve policemen and two ambulances. Must have been serious if there were twelve police. Dean looked back to the tire, realizing it was a boot. The best he could do was kick it, a limp leg turning whichever way it was kicked. By the time Dean was mesmerized by the boot his eyes had sealed and he was once again, face first in a road of glass.
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The Highway Man
Short StorySixteen year old Dean Booth struggles to reshape relationships and his reality due to a traumtic experience two years prior.
