I Walk the Line ♤ (gxg)

chapter 10: hideout

Willow reached across the girl's body, her face dangerously close to her slightly contorted one.

"The rope fit before." She was trying to wrap the rope twice around her waist and shoulders so she could handcuff her again. "You didn't gain ten pounds by that damn chicken."

"Maybe I did! You don't know my fucking metabolic rate!" August screeched, the woman hurting her arm as she kept trying to squeeze the rope around it. Her elbow was painfully twisted, causing her to cry out. "Why can't you just not tie or cuff me?! My wrists are already almost bleeding."

Leaning away from the girl with an agitated sigh, Willow glanced at the girl's wrists. She had to admit that they did look pretty bad. She almost felt sorry for the girl, but at the same time she knew that if she weren't careful, her hostage could get some idea of bold insolence and try to escape free.

Movement from the diner caught Willow's attention. She looked through the car window past August's glare to see the old man leaving the diner, stopping right outside the door to stare at the black Mustang. It was almost as if his eyes had met hers, and his stare did not falter. She could see his eyebrows raise in confusion at the bustle going on inside the car.

Willow slowly leaned away further, starting the car without bothering to tie August up. "If you try to jump out, I will simply turn you into roadkill," she decided, locking the car doors just in case.

August had almost gotten used to Willow's threats at this point, simply covering herself with her arms and shivering from the cold as the woman pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, speeding away. "Where are we going?"

"Disneyworld," she bluntly replied, keeping her stare fixed on the road. She didn't want August getting too comfortable. Comfort was where problems started, she reminded herself.

"Where are we going?" August asked again, adamant that she would keep asking the question until the woman gave her an answer.

"Hell." Two could play at that game, Willow thought.

"Where are we going?"

"McDonald's."

"Where are we going?"

"SeaWorld. I heard Shamu learned to do a new flip."

"Where are we going?"

"Walmart. I need a new bra."

"Where are we going?"

"Your mom's house."

"My mom is dead."

Willow had no response to that. Her eyes widened for a moment, her lips parting in shock, before she let out an airy chuckle. "Okay, you win that game. I'll give you at least one thing to be happy about since I could murder you at any second."

"She really is dead," August thoughtlessly said, thinking about the last time she had seen her mom alive. She had been lying on the hospital bed, about to give birth to Daisy, when the doctors suddenly rushed August out of the room as a bunch of beeps and frantic voices of nurses filled the hospital room. Saying it out loud didn't hurt her anymore. It was the truth, after all—a truth she had to force herself to come to terms with at a young age.

"Oh," Willow breathed, glancing over at the girl who blankly stared out the window. Her face wasn't sad, nor happy. It was just neutral. She resumed her careless persona. "Well, that got depressing."

"Where are we going?" August prompted, determined to get something out of the woman. She simply stared out at the snow-covered ground that was darkened by the night and waited for the woman to give her answers.