Just Another Liar

Chapter 18: Milo

I was laying in a trunk when I finally came to. The stale air dense in the small space where I lay in the fetal position. I bound my hands to some piece of metal and my head pounded from the earlier kick.

What did you expect, a hug?

They snipped the truck emergency release, but they had pulled one seat down where amber rays of light passed by in steady increments. It was night, and we were on an interstate, probably headed north. Based on how thirsty I was, I assumed I was out for about nine to ten hours. Aurelio's voice hummed a song in Spanish while Deandre was groaning. His voice was closer, so I deduced he was in the back seat.

"Hello," I said. I had no point to make and couldn't come up with an explanation that wouldn't piss them off. I was uncomfortable and wanted to know what they would do with me.

Do I even have that right?

I had seen only a taste of what they would inflict on snitches, and that was when Aurelio was the only one involved. Who knew what Deandre was capable of if given the opportunity.

"Shut up." Deandre's tone was gruff and forceful. I recoiled as if he had slapped me, I wished he had instead.

I opened my mouth to speak again despite my better judgement. "Where are we going, they probably have border control looking out for you guys? Looking for us if we're making our way south."

"Stop talking." Softer but still firm, Aurelio spoke up.

"We will get caught if we try to make it into Mexico, they will wait more than likely." I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, but I could hear that it still creeped in. Deandre groaned once more, and I remembered that they hit him.

I tried to crawl, but they secured me in a position that made it impossible for me to see him through the opening the downed seat created. "You probably need stitches for the wound."

"Now you want to talk? Stop pretending like you care about what happens to us. You got us into this situation, the only reason we even brought you was to make sure you can't talk about our plans more than you already have." Deandre said.

When he said the word us, I could tell I was not part of that and it hurt. I gave up so much when I shot...

Thinking about her looking down at me with wide eyes, telling her story of betrayal. Her brown hair matted to the side of her face with sweat and the stench of blood in her breath. It still covered me.

"Shit," Deandre hissed.

"Messed up again?"

I felt the car decelerate but not come to a complete stop.

"I can't do these stitches properly at this angle."

"I can help, I'm trained in the basics of medical care in case I got injured and needed to keep myself alive," I chimed in. It was embarrassing how desperate I was to prove my use.

"Why would we let you out? So you can run and get us killed," Deandre asked.

"I have nothing but you two," I shouted. "I destroyed my life when I fought them, I killed her." They had to understand. I needed them to understand.

"How do you think we can trust anything that you say? You lied for months trying to make yourself into this vision of who you thought we wanted. I'm not sure who I was falling in love with. The Milo that I know was a freelance writer, not some FBI agent who knows how to patch himself up in a bind. So while I try to fucking process this, I want you to shut the fuck up and let us decide what to do with you."