Confessions of a Bitch

Drive

I carefully press down on my cheek before pulling my fingers back from the bruised skin. Dad’s twin has definitely done some serious damage. I look at David through the corner of my eye. His eyes are firmly on the road and his hands tightly grip the stirring wheel. I turn to look back at the headlight-laminated road with tired eyes. We have a murder on our hands. I just hope we didn’t leave any evidence behind. I wonder what the body count is. Four? Five? I don’t know. Doing calculations isn’t really my top priority.

I lean my head on the side of the glass window. It’s quite cool and offers some temporary relief. I don’t bother touching the back of my head. I’m too afraid as to what I’ll find there.

I really, really, really, need some Nurofen. Anesthetics … sedatives …  anything.

My head spins and the lines on the road merge and blur together. Bile rises in my throat. My head hurts. My throat burns. My cheeks are on fire. I need drugs. I take in one last breath before my eyes close and my body slumps in the car seat.

I once watched a show where a man was mauled by a bear and had to be placed in an induced coma to survive. He was in a coma for six months and spent that time reliving the bear attack without the option of pressing pause or stop, or even waking up.

I’m not in a coma. I’m in my own nightmare, and I can’t get out.

My head is thrown onto the carpet over and over again. Calloused hands hold tight around my neck. My lungs explode from the lack of air in my system. Hot tears spill from the side of my eyes as I choke on my own spit. Viper has my parents and I am never going to get them back. She has them locked away, somewhere and is planning a thousand ways to kill them. Victoria is probably by her side, reading the bible or something. Viper wears a mask as she plays with her ruby red nails and counts down the hours until her revenge ends. “You’re running out of time,” she says. “You’re running out of time, bitch.”

I open my eyes and lunge forward, out of my seat. David glances at me. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” I reply. The pain comes back in full force and I double over in pain, groaning. “Where are we?”

“We passed Geraldton a couple of hours ago.” He answers.

“Okay,” I slump back onto the sit and look out the window.

“How are you feeling?” David asks, as he makes a turn around the bend.

“It’s bearable. Keep your eyes on the road.” David doesn’t say another word. He just keeps driving. We fall into a strone dead silence. Just because David happened to play my knight in shining armor last night, doesn’t mean I owe him anything. Well, maybe after this whole mess is sorted, I’ll give him a hundred dollars. That should settle the score.

By the time it’s ten thirty, my stomach begins rumbling. David curses under his breath. I ignore it and continue to stare at the endless stretch of road before us. Once every couple of minutes, we see a lone car or truck driving the other way, but other than that, it’s just us. After all, it isn’t holiday season yet and no one in their right mind would schedule a family road trip. David turns on the radio, but it just sets me on edge. I turn it off after a few minutes. I don’t want to hear about what happened in Carnarvon on the news. I don’t want to hear about the burnt down motel or conspiracy theories about what occurred there last night. I don’t want to relive what happened in my bedroom last night. I’d rather not think of it –although the pain in my body serves as a faint reminder.

I wonder where David put the gun. It’s probably in the backseat. I hope he’s hidden it well, because police sometimes travel across rural highways and search people’s cars. David doesn’t try to make small talk. Thank god for that. I press my fingers on my neck and flinch in pain. I wonder how much damage dad’s twin brother managed to inflict. I suppose I’ll have to get it checked out once we arrive in Mosman Park. Bob isn’t going to know what hit him when I turn up on his doorstep with Hotpants beside me. He’ll probably think I killed someone.