Seven

Chapter 93

"Okay." I pant, slightly out of breath from running around. Curby looks at me like I'm slightly unstable but he wouldn't understand the intrinsic value the items hold for me. Or perhaps he does, I know Seven has a lock box of keep sakes from his life before the gang. Maybe Curby does too.

"Let's go." Curby ushers me out of the apartment, shutting the door before I can take one last glance back at the place. Curby walks ahead while Mesha's arm winds around me as we walk together. Curby's truck is parked illegally right outside my building and I climb into the backseat of the cab. There's another backpack on the seat next to me, I recognise it as Mesha's school bag. Knowing she must have done the same panicked run around as I have. I hate that she has been dragged into this and feel guilty for her involvement, but a small part of me reminds me that Mesha introduced me to this life, or better reintroduced me. Her manicured fingers intertwine with Curby's and settle over the middle console as his truck roars to life with a heavy grunt. And the thought occurs to me that Mesha probably would have found herself here anyway, regardless of me. I silently scold myself once again for being so oblivious to their obvious attraction. From the first time I met Curby he blatantly flirted with Mesha in front of me, and she served his coquettish banter right back to him. I don't think any of us knew back then what was going to happen within the year.

When we're speeding steadily out of the city heading for the coast, Curby let's me in on what is going on. He tells me Victor has returned to the city and is in fact at the old strip club where I use to work. Club Venus. I haven't stepped foot in that place since my accident. And I don't ever plan to. That is, until Curby discloses that Seven is making his way there alone to confront Victor. I know what he means by, "confront." He's going to kill him. Or at least try to.

"We have to go back." I insist. But Curby makes no attempt to turn the truck around. Instead his brows knit together in a frown and his foot pushes further down on the gas pedal.

"Curby! We have to go back for him! We can't leave him!" I hit at the back of his seat, as he ignores me.

"You know we can't leave him to face Victor alone!" Curby continues to say nothing and doesn't let up his speed as we travel further and further away from the city. Away from Seven.

"How can you run away and just leave him?!" My voice raises, filling the cab of the truck.

"Because he made me promise!" Curby yells back. I know he's not yelling because of me, he's yelling because he's upset about leaving Seven too.

"Seven wants to do this alone. He made me promise to get you out of here and make sure you're safe." Curby's eyes don't leave the road as he harshly glares out at the open road in front of us. Mesha squeezes his hand gently.

"So that's what I'm going to do." Curby continues, his voice now lowered back to its usual volume.

"You're not the only one who cares about him, Lily." Curby reminds me and I settle back into my seat. There's no use trying get him to turn back or pull over. Curby won't break his promise to Seven, even if it means leaving Seven to face Victor alone.

No one speaks for the rest of the drive. The pent up anxiety building inside of me is released slightly with every nail I bite free from my fingertips. When my nails are chewed to the wicks I begin to fidget with the threads of fabric coming loose on the cuffs of my jersey. I try to weave the strands carefully back into place but quickly burn out my patience before eventually yanking the threads loose again, snapping them free from the garment. With the strings in hand I begin tying them, again and again, knot on top of knot till the yarn is now a tiny ball of woven tension - much like the condition of my insides.

After far too long driving Curby eventually pulls off the highway and into a small coastal settlement. There are a few shops on what seems to be the main road even though the road itself is very thin and doesn't even have centre lines painted to divide the flow of traffic. I suppose with us being one of only two cars I spot since pulling into here there isn't much traffic to divide. A small grocery store that seems to sell everything else as well as groceries, an old fishing shop advertising fresh bait for sale sits next to it, and along from the fishing shop is a small police station. Apart from that there isn't much to the small seaside area, despite the abundance of houses lining the streets. I assume most of the residents commute to the outer cities for work, unless most people who live here are retired. But the swing sets and trampolines that reside in more then a few of the front lawns contradict the retirement theory.