Guns & Roses (WATTYS 2017)

thirty three - hit & run

"I think we're in the clear." I whisper to Luka as I continue to stare through the rearview mirror, and the SUVs that had once been closer than they appeared have disappeared, and the only behind our car is dust. 

"How did they find us?" Turning to Luka, I watch as his fists clench against the steering wheel, knuckles fading to a chalky white as he grits his teeth. 

He doesn't respond. 

"They have eyes everywhere, it's a miracle they didn't find us sooner." Roman whispers from the back and I make eye contact with him in the mirror. He gives me a strange look. 

The gleeful gaze that usually rested in Roman's eyes has disappeared, covered with a glaze, a sheen. As if he's attempting to blind himself from all the trouble we've gotten ourselves into. All the trouble that we were born with. 

I shift my gaze back to the front, staring at the yellow dashes in front of us as they slide under the car, faster and faster until they almost blur into a single line. 

The yellow rose brushed against my ear as my mother tucked it into my hair, her own hair tied back into an intricate braid I always wanted to learn. 

I reach up, pushing daisies in between the tresses, fitting them into the gaps between the loops of hair. 

Mother smiles down at me, that same smile I always looked to to feel safe, to know that nothing would ever happen to me. 

The backdoor slams closed, and my mother's head snaps around, and I watch as the rose in her hand crushes with the force of her fist. 

I can't see what's behind her as I continue to place flowers in her hair, giggling to myself. She looks like a dark haired mermaid. 

"West, go back inside, I don't want to speak to you." Mother barks, her voice harsh, the way it always does when she speaks to father. 

"Rose, you're going to have to deal with this bullshit. We owe him quite a lot of money, and I can't exactly-"

"That's no fault of mine, West. It's your's." My mother snaps, and suddenly, I hear the shuffling of father's feet across the grass, quick and demanding, as they grab hold of mother's braid, all the carefully placed daisies falling down like rain. 

"Katya." Luka's voice breaks me from the memory, and I snap my neck to face him. 

"Hm?" I mumble. 

"I'm sorry for getting you into this mess." His voice is so quiet, so muffled, it's almost like a gust of wind. But I hear his words. 

I stare at him for a moment, and the whole car is silent, and I know Roman is listening in too. 

"This is as much a consequence of my life as it is of your's." I whisper, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. 

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched so roughly, I think his teeth might crack. 

"I should have killed him when I had the chance." He grits, and I can almost hear his teeth grinding together. 

"Then you'd be just as dead as him, you know that." I state. It's odd, talking about death and murder so casually. I guess being chased by mobsters makes you more cynical. Like Roman is becoming. 

"I never wanted to be like him, and he knew it. I always tried to pretend in front of him, to act like the biggest dick just to make him believe I wanted to be a leader, a gangster." 

I stay silent, waiting for him to finish. It's so rare that Luka speaks like this, opening up. Part of me wants to ask if he's high or drunk, but I know he's not. He's just sad. Like me.