Perspective is a funny thing;
Stirling Thomas, those two words alone were enough to have anyone running in the opposite direction and cowering in fear.
The town has heard all of the rumours, they know he has just been released from prison and they...
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Visions of him hurting me idled into my mind. Thoughts clamouring into my head and plaguing me into complete and utter silence.
He jumped into the drivers seat, hitting me with a waft of fresh lime & cedar from his fragrance. He tossed the gun carelessly into the cup holder between us and licked his lip to moisten it.
I didn't even want to breathe in fear of provoking a reaction from him so I sat impeccably still, staring out of the front window.
"Give me your phone" he demanded, holding out an empty palm.
I surrendered it with a trembling hand. He slipped it into his jacket pocket and set the car into drive.
The journey was excruciatingly silent, quiet to the point I convinced myself I could hear the blood flowing around my body at a cold, alarming speed.
I realised I didn't know him.
Growing up, we ran in different social circles. I was friends with his brother and he was friends with... nobody.
They all teased me because I was the only person in the world Stirling was ever nice to. I'm literally talking about the bare minimum here. Usually he would glare at someone he didn't want to be talking to until they shut up but with me, he tolerated the odd "hi" and sometimes even instigated it.
