I Walk the Line ♤ (gxg)

chapter 9: anemic

After giving up trying to fight against the restraints, August simply allowed herself to drift to sleep.

She figured there was no need to keep her guard up around the woman; she was going to murder her at some point, anyways. Music coming from the speakers of the car was what woke August up from her exhaustion-driven sleep.

"Wild thang!" Willow whisper-sang, making sure she kept the volume at a low level. This confused August—she had placed a gun to her head but now she tried to be sure her music didn't wake her up?

Willow's hand padded along to the beat on the steering wheel, tapping to the rhythm of The Troggs. The woman's mouth mumbled the words of the song, and the upbeat quality of the music in contrast to how she felt on the inside made August want to barf. The happiness exuding from both Willow and the song made her situation feel even more demented, and she deemed Willow an even bigger mental case.

"Do you like The Troggs?" Willow asked, raising her voice slightly over the music. She knew August had woken up without even having to look over at her, much to August's half-hearted confusion.

"My dad loves this song," August mumbled, leaning her head back against the seat and closing her eyes again. The rabbit was returning in her chest, except this time he was thumping a slow beat in accordance with the pounding in her head. Her entire body felt exhausted and stiff, either from thrashing so hard against the ropes earlier or from being in one position for so long. She opened one eye to see the clock. It was 8:30 P.M.

"What's your dad's name?" Willow casually asked. A soda can was heard being opened, and August immediately smelled the cherry Coke scent that instantly began making her sick.

In August's mind, images of the woman hunting her father down and then putting him in the same situation she was in or possibly worse flashed through her mind. "I'm not telling you, you mentally warped bastard," she uttered, her eyes fluttering closed. Her breathing slowed as a pain in her chest became present, making her wince.

Ignoring the girl's comment, Willow eyed her as she sipped her second cherry Cola of the day. There was something wrong with the small, frail girl whose head was limply dangling to the side. Her eyebrows threaded together as she spoke, "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, gee, what a tough question," August quietly began, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull as she tried her best to tilt her chin upwards. "A number of things, if we're really being honest, here. First of all, there is a mentally ill, murderous bitch driving me around all the way across the country and has me tied up to the fucking passenger seat of her goddamn Mustang." Her head fell again as her words slurred. "I'm going to die at 18 years old and I won't even get any Christmas presents first." She suddenly coughed, delving into a spree of hacking that made Willow cringe. She eventually continued, "Oh, and my fucking body hurts." Her eyelids stayed closed, her lashes resting atop her red cheeks.

Willow internally sighed, careful not to show any irritation on the outside. She could take August's comments, but she vehemently hated when people blatantly disobeyed her. "No, you fuckwad. You're acting droopy like you just had a banger of a night or something."

August didn't respond. Her breathing shallow, the ache returned in her chest, causing her to sleepily wince.

"Hey!" Willow raised her voice, setting her half-empty soda down. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Trying to ignore the feeling of her heartbeat pounding in her chest, August managed to raise her head up. "I'm anemic and haven't eaten in 28 hours."

"I offered you my sandwich earlier, but no, you 'didn't fucking want my sandwich,'" Willow mocked her, rolling her eyes. The girl didn't respond, and when she looked over at her she noticed that her once red cheeks had drained of their color and were turning ghostly white.