October Short Stories

October 3rd

Rough Draft:

My frozen fingers tug on my coat collar, attempting to create a larger barrier between myself and the sharp bite of the air. A slight breeze claws at my skin just before a car passes me going slow. Too slow. The gears of the car's driver window groan releasing the heavy breathing of the driver himself. Frozen joints wiggle their way to my coat pocket, grasping the chilled device resting there. A deep breath, raspy and aroused.

"Aren't you cold?" The words are whispered and are only projected by the thin air.

My heart beats with the words "No, thank you," with which my mouth repeats.

"Oh, babe, come on. Let me give you a ride." His engine growls softly with the promise his words don't give.

"No. I'd rather not." Another breeze nips my jeans, jagged teeth cutting through the denim and hitting my skin. Stiff knees and hips creak from the cold with each stride they struggle to make. My heart yells, ordering blood to move quicker through my veins. My heart yells, ordering my limbs to move faster. My heart yells, telling my brain to call someone on my phone. But, of course, only two of the three are followed.

"Don't be rude. It is polite to accept help. Now, get in the car." His true voice pushes through the heavy breathing, a growl that shows his inability to accept no as an answer.

My brain freezes with fear, the rest of my body frozen from the unrelenting winter weather. My heart is now screaming no, but my mouth makes its own decision.

"Alright." Even my brain is appalled at the decision I've made, the decision that will never make it into the inevitable police reports. The decision that will lead others to believe, I was asking for it. The decision that will lead me to ask myself, is it really considered rape?

But, as I get in the car, I realize there is a toddler fast-asleep in the backseat, safely strapped into a car seat. The heat slowly gnaws at my bones, giving me a much-needed relief from the chill outside. The child makes a small "hmm"-ing noise before readjusted and settling back into silence. My brain reactivates, less afraid of the situation, and my nimble fingers pull my cellular device from my coat, unlocking it. I hesitantly give the man my address after he makes sure I'm buckled in and receiving plenty of heat on my chilled body. That night, I safely make it home.

That night, I walked into the living room of my house to find my mother's current boyfriend drunk on the couch. That night, I didn't leave the living room until long after my voice was lost. That night, I learned on fact. Not all men, but just enough to have reason.

Inspiration: "Tag You're It" by Melanie Martinez