Years ago tragedy struck the Calloway's causing the family to fall apart. Lucariah Augustine St. Francis Calloway was left in the ruins of it all with a mother who couldn't bother and a father who disappeared one night with his older brothers. For...
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Muttered curses filled the air as the boy- I now know as Cas- drove like he'd been doing so for years. And there's a good chance he has.
The girl, who's name was still a mystery, sat beside him. His hand on hers.
Francesca sat beside me, curled into a little ball, she was shaking and crying, falling in and out of sleep. I could do nothing but run my fingers through her tightly coiled curls.
I did this to her. If I'd just ignored the fact that he asked for her, she wouldn't be here. I should have ignored it and took whatever punishment came from it. But I couldn't deal; couldn't cope with a worse punishment than this. I couldn't cope if he got physical, because I could hardly hold myself up as is.
Cas cursed again. He may have been around my age, but this kid had a mouth on him. I remember being much like him when I was held captive. The situation demanded that we got our frustrations out through words since we had no other way.
He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, startling all occupants of the vehicle.
"What's wrong, Caspian?" The girl finally spoke, her voice raw. She coughed lightly after, as though it hurt to speak a sentence.
He took his hand off hers to rub a hand down his face, "it's nothing, Cinnami," he sighed. "Don't worry about it."
From the rear view mirror I could see his eyes flick to the side mirror and couldn't help looking at the cars behind us.
Right on our trail was an SUV styled police car. Caspian switched lanes, cursing louder when the police car switched with us. I followed his lead.
"Lucariah," he barked, "sit down before you make us look suspicious."
The use of my full name sent me flying to face forward. "Veer off the highway," I instructed.
"Can't," he groaned, "we've got trackers."
"So? We got an even bigger tracker behind us."
"That one won't beat us for not staying on the highlighted course. What's the worse they could do? Phone home? Wish they would, maybe I can finally see my fam-" he cleared his throat when his voice cracked.
"I'd rather take my chances with the one behind us," he muttered switching lanes once more.
The girl, Cas said her name was Cinnami, glanced behind us. Locking a panicked gaze on him, "Cas," she gasped.
"Just sit good," he pressed, "all of you sit good and I'll get him off our trail. Trust the driver. Trust me, Cinnamon bun."
"I do trust you," she sighed, facing forward.
"Thank you," he bit out, a touch of relief in his eyes when they met mine through the mirror. "And you kid. You trust me?"
"Not as far as I can throw you." I shrugged, ruffling my hair.
