Witness

•CHAPTER 7•

"You got back late." Ricky said as I entered his bar.

"Yeah yeah." I replied.

"I got you something." He began. I didn't feel good enough to be happy or smile or even walk, but I let Ricky have his fun anyway. "Your car is parked across the street."

"You found my car?" I asked. "Thank you, Ricky. Really. I have nothing to pay you back, though."

"Stop. You know I don't expect anything from you."

My phone began to ring and it was my dad. I turned away from Dicky and answered it.

"Dad? You okay?" I began.

"I am so, so sorry about what happened." He said.

"It's fine. I don't really care."

"Why did you run? I bribed the cops to stop looking for you."

"You did? I Raman because I didn't want to get jailed!"

"I'm at work right now, but don't come home."

"What?" I asked confused.

"I'm sorry, but I have no room for you. My papers and documents are all over the place including the couch. There is nowhere for you to sleep."

"That's fine dad. Bye." I hung up and Ricky was busy serving out drinks.

Feeling wiped out, I decided to walk back to my truck and sleep. I nearly slipped on ice ten times before I got there.

I knew I was getting more sick by the minute, and I desperately hoped that I didn't get Ashley sick. I couldn't fall asleep anyway and the cold probably wasn't helping. But it was better than sleeping in Ricky's bar again. The floor is so hard and leaves my back sore.

I closed my eyes and surrounded myself with my thoughts.

I imagined my mom. Maybe she was looking for me now. Or maybe not. Perhaps she misses me and we will meet again. At a coffee place or something. I wonder what she looks like. The last time I saw her, she had short blond hair and used to box and dance. Maybe she still does. Man, I miss her.

A knock on my window startled me back to reality and I jumped in my seat. I swore under my breath when I realized it was just Ricky.

Rolling down my window, I could tell he was upset.

"What? Can I not daydream?" I asked.

"Do you think I'm dumb? You came in as white as a ghost and practically swayed on your feet."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. And I'm driving you to my place. Move aside." I knew better than to try and reason with Ricky, so I scooted over to the passengers seat.

We drive in silence for a while. Ricky lived on the outskirts of town in the woods which was about five miles away. Yeah- small town.

My head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and I rested it on my chair and stared out the window. All the buildings passed by in a blur, even though most of them were out of business. I don't know why they didn't just tear them down. They were just heaps of rotting wood.

I suddenly felt a rush of queasiness out of nowhere. I e never had car sickness in my life. Food poisoning? No... I haven't eaten anything for a while. It's gotta be a virus.

"Ricky, pull over." I commanded.

"Why?"

"Do it!" And he quickly did. I rushed out of my side and to the ditch, not bothering to close the door.

Then it came. There wasn't much, since I hadn't eaten anything. It was mostly stomach acid and dry heaving.

Once I thought I was finished, Ricky came out and helped be back into the car since all my strength had faded away.

"Sorry." I murmured.

"Be quiet! You seriously have no idea how to take care of yourself when your sick."

I smiled at his remark.

Once I reached his house, I shuffled out of the car and collapsed on his couch. Before he had time to protest, I was out in a blink.

I slowly awoke and forgot where I was. Just before I began to panic, I remembered I was at Ricky's. Speaking of Ricky, I noticed he was staring at me from across the room which made me even more freaked out.

"Stop scaring me like that." I replied but it must've been only a raspy whisper, because even I barely heard myself.

"You murmured gibberish throughout the night which freaked the hell outta me." Ricky began. "You're fever still hasn't broke, so you're bedridden until I say otherwise."

I moaned. Bedridden us so boring. All you do is sleep!

"Sorry I threw up. And that you had to take me here. And that you can't work today." I managed.

"It's fine, it's fine. I have to take care of the wounded every now and then, don't I?"

This was one of the few times I actually went to Ricky's house. He had a nice wooden fireplace, which I never understood how it didn't catch fire. It was basically a log cabin; occasional deer head on the wall, fishing poles, bear rugs and wool blankets and clothes, a basement full of games like poker and pool and air hockey and darts and even a full bar!

I should move in. However, Ricky wouldn't be able to handle me. I'll invade too much of his space. But hey, what are friends for?