Killing Death

Chapter | 2 | Road to Faeva

I kept scrutinizing the anonymous letter in an endless loop, like a madwoman trying to understand the context.

"You doin' okay lil' miss?" The taxi driver's question snapped me from my thoughts, bringing me back to my reality. I caught him staring at me from the rear-view mirror. The moment our eyes met, he pulled away, steering his attention back on the road.

Doing okay... what? I wondered.

It wasn't until I felt the wetness around my cheeks did I realize I'd been crying. I quickly wiped my face with my sleeve and attempted to compose myself.

"I'm fine."

He took a right turn onto a smaller, winding road. "Y'know when a girl says she's fine, she ain't really fine. I'd be one hell of a stupid mother-erhm," he cleared his throat, "person to not know that kinda thing by now."

"I'm fine," I repeated. My eyes narrowed when he looked back again, and I shot him a glare.

It was easier to stay angry at the world than to confront my emotions. The only way I could breathe without crumbling into a million pieces was if I pushed the thoughts of Dean, and my former life, out. But it sure as hell wasn't easy.

I looked outside the window. Both sides of the lane were covered with trees. The bare branches arched over the car like a tunnel. The morning sky only visible through the cracks of overlapping bough.

Again, my mind drifted to the thoughts of Dean. It wasn't long until the pent-up sorrow was at its boiling point, alarmingly close to bubbling over. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into the palm of my hands. My vision was blurring quickly, and I knew I needed to find a distraction.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "How much further?"

"A couple more minutes, I think," he answered, keeping his gaze ahead. The curves on the road had contracted and the car had slowed down significantly. "Can't be sure though. Never been up this far for a passenger. Think you can guide me 'round once we get closer? Never thought there'd be coordinates a GPS couldn't catch."

"I've never been here either."

Through the mirror, I saw his eyes widen. "Then the fu-hell you out here for? Look miss, did I make a mistake by giving you a ride? You goin' in hiding or, you in some suicide mission, or somethin'?"

If he only knew. "No."

"Then why we driving to the middle of nowhere?" I didn't answer him. There was nothing I could have said that would make sense. But it didn't matter, because he continued, "Like first off, ain't you afraid? You're all alone. It's barely five in the morning. We been driving for an hour, and I got your map. You don't even know where we goin'. I could've been some pervert, you know."

I should've been afraid. But my safety was the least of my concerns. "Are you?"

His head snapped back. A look of offense plastered on his features. "No, 'course not!"

"Then no."

"Honestly, though, I thought you was some kinda bad hooker," he said, scratching his bald head.

It was my turn to be offended. "Bad hooker?"

He snorted. "'Course you caught that. Yeah, y'know, you dressed head to toe in baggy clothes. Not exactly how 'em ladies make good business in the corner we was at."

I pursed my lips in confusion. "Wouldn't that make me more likely to be a homeless person?"

He cocked his head and knitted his brows. "You don't look like a hobo. Clothes don't make a person a hobo. Yours be old but they ain't scraps. Seem like old ass designer crap. Hmm, but maybe you right. Maybe you just look like a psycho. No offense, but I mean you was goin' from taxi to taxi like one."