Highway Kismet

Trouble in Moab

*Disclaimer: This chapter has some scenes of violence and assault, if you aren't comfortable reading, please stop at the asterisks.

Just who the hell did that arrogant, big-headed, cheating scumbag think he was to talk to me like that? Every word he spat at me was imprinted into my mind, and every time I thought about it, my blood boiled. I was so mad that despite walking outside in the cold at almost ten-pm at night, my skin felt like it was on fire.

I stopped at the diner which was just beside the motel but made a U-turn when I realized that it was still too close to Mitchell, so I left and walked for around ten minutes to the pub across the road.

The night was dark with not a star visible because of the heavy cloud cover and the air was cold and smelt like wet earth and rain. The parking lot was pretty much empty with only a few vehicles scattered around. There was a neon light flashing just above the entrance when I entered.

Inside the pub was a lot warmer than outside and like the motel, it was also dominated by a wooden interior. There was a bar setup just as you entered and further in were tables scattered with barstools all entertained by the jukebox playing some country song. The smell of alcohol and tobacco welcomed me as I made my way to the bar, glad that it wasn't very busy.

I took a seat at the stool and was greeted by the bartender in maybe his late thirties, he looked polite and had a bald patch.

"Evening Miss, what can I get ya?" He politely asked.

I looked at the many drinks hanging upside down on the wall in front of me, next to a beer tap. The thought of alcohol didn't digest well, I had too much the previous night. So, I opted for something simple.

"Can I get a plain lemonade?" I asked.

"Sure thing." He said and walked off.

I rested my elbows on the bar counter and rubbed my palms over my face, sighing. The day started alright, but it sure ended awfully.

The bartender brought my drink in no time and I mindlessly played with the little umbrella which hung on the side of the glass. Was I really so awful to be around? It wasn't the first time someone said that to me, and it surely wasn't the first time Mitchell said it.

I knew I was a little loud, bold, and eccentric and I understood that not everyone liked that. I wondered if I should simmer down and be more... normal. Maybe then people wouldn't be so harsh with their words towards me, it was so easy for the closest people even to say 'stop being Mila' and I normally brushed it off but they hadn't a clue how deep that one little line could cut. I mean how does one stop going about being themselves? I think it's pretty damn cruel to ask someone to stop being who they were.

Maybe I needed to be a little quieter – more like Faith and Olivia. But I knew that if I suddenly stopped being cheery and loud, I'd sink into a very dark hole and I wasn't sure if I would ever come out of that space. The way I acted and spoke was my coping mechanism to deal with the crap that life threw my way, it blocked out the demons which lived in my mind and heart. Laughter was my savior from allowing sadness to consume me.

But it seemed in an attempt to save me, I was taking down the people around me. I couldn't be that selfish, could I? Maybe the best option was to just isolate me for a while, be by myself and give everyone around me a break from Mila.

I sighed and massaged my temples; my thoughts were starting to consume me again and I hated when that happened. I needed to stop overthinking and remember that Mitchell was no one but the asshole friend of Faith's boyfriend, what he thought of me didn't matter. What happened wasn't my fault, only someone hiding something would act out the way he did, this time I was innocent.