Handcuffs in Winter

Chapter Three

Taylor shoved me into his car and slammed the door shut. He moved fast around the car, pulling the keys from his pocket and jumping in the driver seat. He didn't waste any time pulling out of the station and down the road. The fire in his eyes burned and didn't go out until we reached the city line twenty minutes later. When we stopped at a dead stop sign somewhere outside the city, he turned to me. "Talk," he demanded.

"What do you want me to say? I went out last night with a friend and things got out of control!"

"Out of control, Criss?! You could have died! Do you even know what was running through your body?!"

"How was I supposed to know when I wasn't the one who put it there?! Jennifer set me up! I could do acid and still remember what I did the next day!" He glared at me. "Whatever was in that beer was pretty damn strong! I've never tripped out like that!"

"I'm not talking anything you took, Criss!" He grabbed my arm and pulled it out. A dark bruise sat where the needle went into my arm. I yanked my arm back, covering the mark up. "You don't think! I'm going to get a call one of these times to come pick up your body!"

"No one is asking you to lose your job over me! No one asked you to come to the police station! Why do you continue to ruin your life for me?! Why, Taylor?!" His hand tightened on the steering wheel. We continued to sit at the stop sign over looking a frozen lake. I didn't know why he took me so far out of the city.

"Because it's my job!" He answered, looking out the windshield.

"Your job?!" I let out an annoyed laugh. "Who told you that, my Dad?! Is he paying you for your job?! It isn't your job to run my life! I can take care of myself!"

"You're doing a pretty damn good job at it!" He yelled back. I've never wanted to hit him so badly in my life. The fact that he thinks he can run my life because my dad says? Who's the daughter here? Last time I knew he was my father. Fathers tell their children what to do. Fathers care about their children. They don't run away when life gets tough. They don't call once a month just to ask if his partner is doing good. Apparently he calls Taylor more than me or Jacob.

And suddenly I wasn't pissed off. I wanted to cry. I wanted to jump out of this car and run as far as I could. If i died from the bitter cold then at least I wouldn't have to live on a planet where my own father, the only parent I had, didn't want anything to do with me. I sat back in my seat. My throat ached as I held back the tears. "Since he calls you more than his own kids you can tell my father he doesn't have to worry."

Taylor turned to me. I didn't face him. I didn't want him to see how weak I was at the moment. I've always been tough in front of Taylor. He would probably just laugh in my face. "Criss, it's not like that."

Yet somehow, he could see right through me.

"Just take me home," I told him. He sighed in a frustrated tone. He put his foot on the gas and continued ahead.

"I'm not taking you home."

                   We pulled into the driveway of a huge mansion like house. Well, it was very big to say the least. No lights were on and no cars were parked in the driveway. I turned to him for answers. "You'll be staying here for awhile," he said.

"Where is here and why?"

"My place." He looked over at me. I kept looking between him and the house before us.

"I thought you lived in town!"

He chuckled to himself. "That's just a place I stay for work. This is more of a vacation spot."

Vacation spot? I've seen his place he has in town. It's half the size of this house but it's still big. "You can afford all this on a policeman salary?!" He raised his eyebrows as he reached for the door handle.