Parasite

Chapter 31: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐆𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐧

        The next day came, and we got on the road again. But something about Apollo didn't seem right. He kept looking behind him. It was unusual, and he hardly talked, like a dumbbell clung to his mind—dragging him down, making it impossible to resume normal function. 

        I took the first exit, seeing as there was only so much we could do in a single day. Besides, I had to gather supplies. There's also the trademark blue sign for Walmart sprouting high in the sky. They always had decent deals on bargain brands, and my mom taught me to be a deal-seeking girl.

        Not to mention, my feet were cramped.

        My car makes a turn, chugs forward, and slides into an empty parking spot. I turn the key, listening to the engine die down. I groan, grabbing my purse. "You want to tell me something?" I muse, smiling doubtfully. "You've been introverted all afternoon."

        Apollo unbuckles the seat belt, carefully easing it over his thick curls. "I don't understand why you killed him; you never answered me." 

        "I'm not obliged to." My hand hovers over the bag of McDonald's, "why are you so damn curious?" My eyebrows furrow as I lose myself in thought. "This isn't like you."

        "I'm not forcing you to confess anything," his voice grows rough like I'm testing his patience. "And who wouldn't be interested when a young, usually shy girl purposely does something on a scale like this!"

        "You're such a child; don't go seeking answers that'll hurt you," my resolve is waning, depleting like my energy reserves. But I press on, push through the thicket. "I'm tired of this." 

        Apollo shakes his head, "I know you're confused, and conflict sits unresolved inside you." 

        I sigh, flubbing my lips. Every action is to soothe the anger and anguish. To stop me from trying to hurt Apollo. "I am not!" I yell, my eyes prancing out the window, searching for anyone wandering where they shouldn't be. And no one oversees the pity party ensuing in my banged-up car. "Why are you acting funny?!" 

        "I'm concerned. Is that wrong?" Apollo says in a bossy, you-have-always-been-immature way. He leans over the threshold, fingers intermingling with mine—parasite and human, human and parasite, monster and monster. "Violet." 

        "No." I snarl, uncomfortable. I draw back, "I shouldn't have involved you." 

        "I wanted this," he places his hand over mine, "I'm your parasite; this is how these things work." 

        "Don't act so desperate," I smack him gingerly, "You don't belong to anyone, neither do I." I squint at him, eyesight dissolving, making him seem more rigorous—unexplainable. However, somewhere deep inside me lived a veil of dishonesty, a layer of toxicity. It wanted to surface, poke its head above the water. And it did, if only for a second. "I'll explain tonight when we're safe and far from the police." 

        He nods, stretching. "Fine by me." Apollo swings the door open and steps on the blacktop. "C'mon." He gestures, walking to my side. 

        "Do you have to ask?" I retort, joining him in the humid summer heat. It's all going according to plan. 

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        "Why are they here?!" I snap, grabbing Apollo's ear, "How did they track me?" My forehead's sweaty, my back hurts, and I'm dreadfully biting on my fingernail. "The cops are here!"

        The 'here' I'm referring to is our second-night hotel in the middle of the interstate. In some bizarre turn of events, there are flashing lights outside the main window, periodically blinking red and blue.