one week later
I was listening for footsteps again. There weren't any, though. I was so paranoid that someone was going to find me. My stomach growled softly, and I punched it. Shut up, dumbass. I thought.
I crawled out of the cave, and made my way to the clearing I could see. I had my license, well, learner's permit, in my back pocket. I hadn't noticed it there until three days ago. I kept going until I got to an unsurveillanced parking lot, and I grabbed the door handle of a blood red 2015 Ford F150 Lariat.. Just like Dad's.. I thought.
It hurt, internally. I still remembered seeing him in my room, him talking to me. It was something I just couldn't shake. I never would, and I could feel it. Anyways..
The car door opened soundlessly, unlocked. Also, the idiot driver left the key in the cup holder. I pushed down on the brake, and pressed start. The truck roared to life, and I backed up the truck, turning so I was facing the road. Then, I pulled out and drove off, headed for the highway. I was only seventy-five miles from the Illinois border. I could make it to Missouri on the gas I had.
Estatic, I let out a shriek and hit the highway. Going 50 miles an hour, I'd make it in an hour and twenty five minutes, tops.
YOU ARE READING
Through the Wringer
Teen FictionDalton Versailles' life was going great until the accident. He thought the Lanes foster family could be the worst of it, but it was the exact opposite. The worst was yet to come, even over the tragedy that befell his family.
