Chapter 1.2: Runaway Girl [PART TWO]

The drive was long and full of chatter. The other passengers were on their phones talking to family or listening to music a bit loudly around her. The teenager found it hard to sleep with the noise but her body craved rest. She leaned against her seat’s window, feeling the cool glass on her flushed skin. 

All the stress had started to not only make her completely exhausted but feverish. This frustrated her but she was too focused on staying awake to care. She looked outside the window and watched a wave of buildings pass by. They were endless, lulling her tired mind into a stupor. 

This stupor made her body become weightless as she yawned. Her limbs were jellified, the tension in her arms and legs releasing with the flutter of her eyelashes. Her eyelids were incredibly heavy but she rubbed at them with the palms of her hands. The sheer intensity of the heat that came from them startled her. 

They were so warm she wondered if she was about to be sick. Her entire body was overcome with a sheen gloss of sweat that was dampening her clothes. It was so bad that the teenager feared that maybe she had eaten something bad. Or that she was suffering the effects of her anxiety-fueled life.

‘There’ll be a rest stop soon,’ She gritted her teeth and willed her body to stay strong. If she vomited in public she’d never live the shame down. ‘If I can just hold on till then I’ll be fine.’

The teenager wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. She squeezed herself twice before letting out a quiet groan. There would be hours until she made it to her destination. She’d be forced to hide as the news of her disappearance would spread like wildfire. She hoped that it was after she was off the bus and walking the streets. 

If she was recognized everything would be for nothing. Her appearance was unique even in more populated areas. Her eyes were large and far apart in an unnatural way. Her nose was small and her lips reminded people of a Bratz doll. It also didn’t help that she was so tiny. With a look like this, even outdated photographs would be useful. 

She had bought hair dye from a corner store but hadn’t had the time to use it. Just thinking about it made her face turn red and her mind shut down. There was no way she’d go back. They’d have to drag her kicking and screaming back to that house. And that would be a challenge as she’d taze the bastards without a worry. Anything was better than going back. 

“Last stop!” The bus driver yelled out as the bus doors slid open. 

A hand reached out with painted acrylic nails. They were beautiful and matched the look of their owner. Her eyes immediately caught that of the man who wore them. The guy couldn't be older than twenty and was pretty skinny. His thick boots dragged on the ground as he looked for somewhere to sit. She recognized them from a magazine for alternative clothes. 

'He has to be rich,' The man was denied a seat and cursed in Spanish. 'Those boots cost two thousand not even a week ago.'

He came to stop and looked at her. The teenager felt her throat tightening as he looked her up and down. The man at first looked annoyed at someone being in his way. But then his expression slowly shifted. It became overly positive, almost affectionate. She knew she should feel weirded out by it. But for some reason, she just couldn't. Against her judgment, she opened her mouth and started to speak. 

"Um…you can sit next to me," The teenager moved her bag and sat it in her lap. "Sorry about that." 

He laughed at her and sat down. Only then did she notice he was wearing pantyhose. "It's alright. I hope I didn't scare you, kid." 

The man did anything but scare her. In fact, the teenager was enthralled by him. She had never seen someone who looked like him. His body was covered head to toe in tattoos. Some were quotes, others were artwork and the rest looked to be constellations. One side of her wanted to reach out and touch them. The other was super desperate, frantic to ask where he got them. 

She opened her mouth, closed it then opened it again. Her heart was hammering as she pointed to his arm. "Where did you get that tattoo?" 

The man cocked his head, his long black ponytail swishing to the side. "This one?" He pointed to his wrist where a tiny rose sat. 

The young girl shook her head and pointed further up his arm. "No," A tattoo that was barely visible sat under her finger. "This one."

A grin blossomed on his face and was lifted up his sleeve. As he brought it up she could see more of its detail. It was beautiful with the colors being black, white, and gold. The tattoo depicted the high priestess from the tarot. The teen could recognize it fully now and was wowed. Whoever did his tattoos must have put thousands of details and hours into each one.

"I got it for my sixteenth birthday. My foster mom flipped when she saw it." He chuckled and the teen found herself laughing too. 

Suddenly, he moved to point at her neck. "Where did you get that bruise from?" 

A look of shame came over the teenager as she rushed to cover it. She had forgotten about it. In her rush to leave her argument with her mother turned physical. The woman had never hit her before. No matter how many times she goaded her, she never did. But this time the brunette just snapped and pinned her down. Her hands wrapped around her throat and just squeezed until the world went white. 

"My mom," She saw no point in lying since she was never going back. "We got into a fight and she blacked out. Woke up on top of me." 

The man looked taken aback. "Damn. Did you fight back?" 

The teenager stared at him. She expected him to ask if she was okay. Or to react with disbelief that a mother could hurt their child. So hearing that he wanted to know if she fought back was weird. It was unwelcome, it just made her feel off-kilter. She didn't know what to do but answer. 

"I didn't," She mumbled and the man looked at her with disappointment. It made that weird feeling in her body just quadruple. "Because it's disgusting to hit your loved ones." 

"I have to disagree with you. If someone hurts you, you hurt them twice as badly. Even if they're your loved one or in your case, mom." He retorted with a strange tone to his voice. It made her more comfortable. 

Overall, the man was really nice. He didn't treat her like a disaster like her father or a basket case like her mom. He was odd. "Would you ever hurt your foster mom then? Would you fight her?"

"If my foster mom choked me until unconsciousness, I'd kill her." 

A small smile appeared as the teenager heard his words. "You're bluffing." This guy was kind of edgy but she figured it was his humor. He probably wanted to make her feel better about the situation.

The man reached out and grabbed her hand. His tan skin felt like cold metal against his feverish skin. The fever, oddly enough, had stopped bothering her when he came. Instead, she just felt his worn palm meeting her own and squeezed her hand. The squeeze was rough, the man had strength that made her arm feel like a twig under him. But she just let it happen and waited in confusion for whatever reasoning he had. 

"I don't see any purpose in jokes about death," The ice feel of his skin went through her body and she looked up in shock. The other passengers all had fallen asleep and her voice was gone. "It's important to defend yourself against abuse. Kids like you have it the worst."

He flipped her arm around, showing off her yellowing skin. "Your mother has been blacking out a lot. Every time she wakes up you're bruised and she begs for forgiveness." Tap. Tap. Tap. 

"She'd say she didn't know what happened. That it was just a blackout," He rubbed at her wrist, irritating her wounds. "So it wasn't her fault that you had to move again. That you had to hide from everyone." 

The teenager started to tear up as he continued. She felt so conflicted, her throat was thick with emotion. "At first you were upset with her. But then, once you saw she'd never stop, you wished she'd gone far enough to kill you." 

His fingers graced her skin and scratched at it. Instinctively, the teenager snatched her arm away. She stood up with her bag clutched to her chest. From where she stood she could see everyone fast asleep. It was like they were in a coma, food and phones were on the floor. She was petrified at the sight. It made no sense to her that one moment the bus was full of chatter and the next everyone looked so dead. 

"You did this," Her eyes pierced him with unspoken accusations. "You've drugged everybody. You've…you've knocked everyone out!" 

The man shrugged. "I did. You didn't appear to care until I told you the truth about your mother. And you desire to die a peaceful death!" 

"I don't want to die!" This man was insane and she had no way out. She was stuck with her back against the window. The young girl was desperate. 

"Yes, you do. And that's why you let me sit next to you," The man stood up and took off his jacket. It fell to the ground and with it came a revelation that sent pure agony through her mind. "And waited for me to kill you."