I've Lost My Way (Sequel to Saved by The Way)

Chapter 8

Brendon hopped into the other side of the car. As he pulled open the handle he gave me I guesses as what he considered as a seductive smile. His white teeth perfectly in alignment shimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

"You're never going to forget the day that Brendon Urie took you home." he said smiling.

I'm sure I won't forget this.

At the foot of my seat was a red tool box. The box was rusty and appeared to be filled with old metal wrenches and hammers among other items, or I assumed so, as it was a tool box.

Brendon stuck the shimmering key into the ignition and the vehicle rumbled and rattled until it started up.

My heart rate picked up to a pounding beat like that of an Indian drum and it became apparent what was going to happen if I got to Brendon's house.

I'd be raped on the spot. Then held hostage until he was ready to rape me again. The situation would simply repeat itself over and over again and I'd end up battered and bruised and above all, dirty.

Before I could process all my thoughts, we had pulled out of the parking lot and were soon speeding down an empty road.

The pounding of my heart became the only thing I could hear.

What if I get raped again? What if I'm murdered? What if I'm held hostage? What will Gerard do to himself if I get hurt? What if he kills himself?

Those questions flashed through my mind a thousand times over. One solution came through all these questions. I can't let myself get to Brendon's house.

I looked down at my feet to the heavy red toolbox again. How heavy was it? I bent over to examine it.

I flicked up the latch on the box lid rim and slowly lifted open the top. The hinges of the box screeched from the rust and grime. Before me was a box full of sharp objects. What a beautiful thing.

There were knives and box cutters with saws and round jagged blades. Each reflecting sunlight in a piece of unique art that was unmistakably beautiful. There were a few non-sharp objects as well such as rusting hammers and some heavy wrenches.

The box was sure heavy. I shut the lid and latched it so none of the sharp contents would spill out.

I suddenly had a marvelous idea. Dangerous, but marvelous. I looked up ahead on the road. Not a car in sight. I then looked behind. Not a single vehicle on the horizon.

I then took a deep breath and sat far back in my seat. This car didn't have airbags. That was a problem. Oh well, this will have to work. I then took my seat belt and pulled it. I pulled it until I heard a click then let it go. The seat belt made a reeling noise as it wound up against my chest. I tried to move and the seat belt held me securely.

I inhaled then exhaled. I looked to see if any cars were near. We were driving through uninhabited land, so property damage wasn't an issue.

My fingers clenched around the handle of the toolbox.

My heart rate raced and beat so loud I wondered if Brendon could hear it. Without giving my choice another thought, I threw the toolbox. Aiming right for Brendon's legs below the knee.

As planned, Brendon's foot slammed upon the brakes at the sudden impact of the toolbox. My body tried to fly out of my seat, but my seat belt restricted me from doing so.

I squeaked as my seat belt slammed against my chest. But no more sound could come out. I couldn't breathe and I tried to suck in air, but no air would come. I listened intently for my heartbeat, but heard nothing. My chest. It felt broken. I felt like my lungs were sagging. Are my ribs still there?

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt the car lurch forward suddenly, the windshield was against the ground and cracks of spider webs instantly appeared over the glass.

I had only thrown the toolbox just milliseconds ago, yet I had felt more pain than I ever had at one time in my life.

The car lurched to a halt. The sky was where the ground should've been and the ground where the sky. But there were no other cars in sight. No other people. We were alone. And we were hurt.

Brendon appeared to be either knocked out or dead. I hoped it wasn't the latter. I didn't want to kill anybody. I wasn't a murderer. I couldn't be. I couldn't go to jail. I'm not a criminal.

I saw my forearms covered in scars from the abuse. The scars were now bleeding again. I didn't feel blood anywhere else on my body, just battered and bruised.

I looked out the distorted windshield at the horizon. A vehicle that appeared upside down was visible, however, we were the only ones upside down.

I thought that was a vehicle. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe there wasn't really a car at all.

But like I said, there's a thin line between the world's of fact and fiction.

My chest was aching and I thought I might take a nap because I suddenly felt tired. My eyes refused to stay open and they shut for what was feared as an eternity.