Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

5 3 ~ R u s t y

                 

Present Day ~ July 11, 2011

I force myself out of the uncomfortable metal chair and look up at the sky, seeing the clouds darken overhead. It hasn't rained in ages, so it makes sense that the world is due for a good cry. The only problem is that mother nature's tears are just going to destroy everything I have if I don't get myself and my bags into a truck and out of here quickly.

I cross the street in a haze, still a bit groggy. I still haven't actually slept in a day or two. Or is it three? I'm not really sure. I can fall asleep for a few minutes here and there, but as soon as the dreams come back, I try to keep myself awake for as long as possible.

With my duffel over my shoulder, my new possessions secured tightly in it, and my guitar case in hand, I start out into the lightly sprinkling air. I walk quickly towards the main road leading out of here. It's a risk, but if nobody recognizes me, I might be able to get a decent ride.

It isn't like I know where I want to go anyway.

"Rusty!" I hear someone yell from behind me, his voice giving me a chill. I speed up a little, pretending I didn't hear him. Blue couldn't possibly be here right now. My god, this cannot be happening. Last night plays out in my mind. The cops. The chase. The crying. The leaving.

Dear lord. I can't face him.

"Hey you can't just leave, okay?" I hear him say. He doesn't move to grab me. He doesn't try to stop me. I just feel him to my right, falling into step with me.

"I'm sorry, but I can't stay."

"Nobody knows it was you, Rusty. Nobody even paid attention. You don't have to go," he says, trying to catch my eye. I'm almost out to the main road now, ready to stick out my thumb for anyone who will stop for me.

I shake my head. "That's not it, Blue. I'm not scared of getting caught."

He doesn't respond, watching me carefully. I stand at the edge of the road, looking down the streets for a car. I see a semi coming my way and wave at it. The driver slows down.

Blue steps in front of me. "No way. No, Rusty. You don't know who the hell that guy is. He could kill you or something."

"I can handle myself, thanks."

The truck driver slows to a stop on the side of the road and leans out of his window, a crooked smile balancing a toothpick between his teeth. He eyes me before his gaze flicks to Blue. "Sorry boy, there's only room for one." He scowls in Blue's direction before looking back at me. "Where you headed little girl?"

I ignore the chill that runs down my arms. Should I really be getting in the truck with this creep?

Blue circles around, standing between me and the passenger door of the 18 wheeler. "Please, Rusty. Just give me one day, alright? Don't do this." He's pleading now.

"Make up your mind, sweet cheeks. I'm on a tight schedule," the driver winks over at me and I take a step back, behind Blue... I shake my head no. The driver rolls his eyes. "Your loss."

After the trucker drives off, Blue gives me an I-told-you-so look, and I gulp. "Okay, one creep. The next one isn't going to be that way."

"You would have gotten in the truck with him if he didn't say that, wouldn't you?" I still don't look him in the eyes.

"I never said I was smart. The next one will be fine, okay? You don't have to stick around."

"Rusty. You've gotta trust me."

I glare back at him. "You shot me."

"Yeah..." Blue's frown wavers into his signature grin. "Don't make me do it again."

I let my bag drop and look up for more cars. God, I'm just so done. I don't want to do this right now.

"What happened to you?" I hear him ask. At first, I think he means in general, like what got me here. But then I finally glance at him, just long enough to see that he's frowning at me, a concerned frown. Kind of... sad.

I know I look horrible. My hair is wet from the rain drizzling lightly and I'm probably shaking from the cold. I turn away from him.

A car starts to slow down. I'm leaving. He can't stop me.

Blue waves the car off, shaking his head at it. I don't even have the energy to yell at him for it.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks. I shrug. "Eaten?"

"This morning."

"What did you have?"

I don't answer. I watch as he grabs my duffle from the ground and gives me a small smile. "If you're going to go, at least let me buy you something good to eat first."

I stand there, guitar case weighing me down, teetering back and forth on my feet. "Blue..."

"Or if not, at least go back to Bailey's and sleep for a while. You can't think straight right now."

But I don't want to sleep.

Sleeping means remembering.

"Food sounds good," I mumble. I hate myself for it; but if someone offers to pay for you to eat, you take advantage of it. It's food.

"C'mon then, I know just the place," he says and I follow him away from the road.