The storm Rages

Chapter 7

The silence in the car was heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the distant city noise outside. Mikey kept his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel as he maneuvered through the familiar streets of inner-city LA. 

Ali sat in the passenger seat, leaning against the window. Her eyes were hollow, dark circles etched beneath them, and her skin was pale, stretched tight over her cheekbones. She looked exhausted, like the life had been drained out of her. The robe and nightie she wore were hidden by the large hoodie from Mikey, which hung loosely on her frame, concealing the bruises that painted her arms and legs.

She hugged herself, shivering, though whether it was from the cold or something deeper, she didn't know. She glanced sideways at Mikey, but his expression was unreadable, as always—focused, quiet, and detached. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, his face set like stone.

The LA streets blurred past them—rows of graffiti-covered buildings, liquor stores with neon signs, groups of people lingering on corners, some dealing in broad day light. It was a world she didn't grow up in but at one point in her life, used to navigate so easily, a place where she once felt safe. But now, it felt like a reminder of everything she'd lost and everything she'd been running from.

She shifted in her seat, wincing as the movement sent a wave of pain through her bruised ribs. Her fingers fumbled with the hoodie Mikey had given her, tugging it tighter around her. It smelled faintly of him, of the city, of home.

Mikey's eyes flicked to her briefly, catching the wince, but he said nothing. His silence was almost comforting in a way—it was a steady, unchanging presence she'd always known. And she needed that. She needed something solid to cling to when everything else had crumbled.

They drove past a series of abandoned lots and corner stores. The world outside felt distant, like it was moving at a different pace. The car finally slowed as they neared his grandmother's house, a small, sturdy place nestled in the heart of the neighborhood. It was familiar territory—safe territory.

Ali felt a lump rise in her throat. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the weight of it all settle. When she opened them again, Mikey was pulling into the driveway, the old house coming into view. It was simple but well-kept, a relic of a time when the neighborhood wasn't so rough around the edges.

As he parked the car, Mikey glanced at her again. "We're here," he said, his voice low and steady, the first words he'd spoken since picking her up.

Ali nodded, but didn't move right away. Her hands gripped the edge of the seat, and she took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for the next step. She didn't know what was waiting for her inside, or how long she could hold herself together. All she knew was that, for now, she was safe.

And for now, that was enough.