Her Pacifier: Secrets From The Past

Chapter 37

"Drift driving," she responses suddenly perky and enthusiastic.

"Excuse me?" I gape. I'm earned a scowl and a humming groan before she opens her door to jump out and I hastily pull her arm back. She whirls around and spares me the spitting colour purple.

"What do you think you're doing?" Her freshly plucked eyebrow arches.

"Where do you think you're going?" I snap back, "We should be at school before our curfew ends."

Passion snorts. "I don't care about curfews, neither do I care about school."

"Well, I care for my education," my voice raises and she leans back. I sigh and loosen my hold on her arm but still keep it there incase she tries to get away. Run away from the truth.
"Passion, we had the most disastrous and horrific day I could never begin to imagine- running away, time travelling, fighting, drowning men in blood, the list goes on. Do you really want to make things worse?"

Passion's enlightened orbs dart from my touch to her arm and the impulsive daggers that follow make my arm retreat to my lap from the suspenseful stare.

"Your feeling of trepidation is depressing, just drop it already. Nothing will ever be worse than the mall," she dismissively says.

"Nothing will ever be worse than the mall if you drive us back to school," I say. "Don't you want to see Charles?" I ask and her face creases in confusion. "After everything that happened. Why he didn't warn you about Adrienne's disciples to avoid more trouble."

"You can't control me!" She bellows, nostrils flaring as her purple sparks disappear to the first colour mentioned in the bible. "I am not going to Charles, it's my life, my curse not he's."

"Passion, I am not controlling you. I am just saying that we need to go back to school now-"

"I'm not driving us anywhere," she rudely interjects. "We are here now and we are going to have fun, got it?"

No, I don't 'got it' one bit.

I turn to the windscreen and take in the view of dust and little moving people that I'm sure are her toxic group of friends, climbing on the sporty vehicles. Girls stripping on them. The clattering alcohol bottles that are tossed to the ground and blaring rock music they're screaming along to. I nod to myself as everything I see starts to make sense. This behaviour is as clear as clarity and as shining crystals. This is what Passion wants, what she desires.

"I see now," I murmur, flatly, "I see."

"See what?" Passion incredulously asks.

I turn to her so she eyes the solemn expression I carry when my words sink into her brain just as they sank into mine. "You're running away from your problems," I state.

Passion's mouth opens to speak and closes before she furiously screams at me. "Who isn't, Jules? Who isn't?"
She sits lazily with her shoulders slumped and empty heartedly shrugs. Her pointer points to the mess I was glaring at a few seconds ago.

"You see all those 'bad' people there are running away from their problems. The music, cars, booze, groove and drugs help us to escape from the worst book ever written in history; life. Those things are the only fucking reason we're still sane in this book!"

"Passion, I am here to live in the same book we share together with you. I am here for you, you don't need all that whilst I'm here."

Passion coldly chuckles at me. Clearly I'm a sickening joke. "Same book we share?" She mocks, "Jules, we share nothing!"

"I am a part of your story accept it," I say.

I feel anxious when Passion curls her trembling hands into tight fists and her irises gleam orange.

"Our stories are different. Our lives are different," she slowly informs me like she's quarrelling with a ten year old, slow learner.

"Living in it and living as the characters we were written to be, I personally must live in a normal world that's different from the one I was born to. Where horror and dark fantasy collide into one. I've been running all my life from danger whilst causing danger wherever I go," she leans forward and snarls. "Trust me, I know. We. Are. Different."

Passion points her fingernail to her bust, trying her hardest not to break down before me as she continues.

"If I have to live in this book - my book - I will make sure I come alive in it."

I reach for her chin in hopes she finds solace in my gentle touch but I brake with every ounce of strength she uses to push my fingers away. I use them to rub my tendons instead. "Passion, it's still wrong. That is no way to live even if you're trying to escape from reality." I attempt to touch her again but she shifts and the distance is almost unbearable. Intolerable.

"Don't you dare pacify me," she warns and I grit my teeth. "You don't know what we go through," she rasps, glancing away.

I unexpectedly huff at the impeccable remark. "I might not know what you all go through but what I do know is that if you jump out that door, we'll be tumbling into another fit of trouble," my head shakes at the thought of facing something worse. "And this time it will be impossibly inevitable."

Passion stubbornly holds her head higher when she grabs the car door handle and harshly pushes it wide open that it slams the rims of her wheel.

"Passion," I panic. "Passion, don't just walk away."

"What I do know..." she says dryly, competing with me as she crafts a threat. "...is that if I walk out this very door and you don't walk with, you will regret it for the rest of your life because God forbid. I will quickly end you."

I wince as if the malicious words had a physical impact on me. My scalp prickles when she snatches the chiming keys to her old but petite modeled truck and tucks them in her orange bra. She glares at me through the windows she's rolled down, disgusted.

"Look at you already breaking one of the promises you made only minutes ago," she spits, her hardening glare deepening into darker shades of disappointment. She peers at me as if I was grotesquely created. As if I'm some colossal mistake.
"Boys - you fucking, bloody liars."

The door slams shut, deserting me in her vehicle alone and cold. I sulk in guilt, remorse and explicitly self-loathe my ridiculous self for ever thinking if there was a possibility Passion and I could come to good terms or even become good friends.
Fuck, we not even close to being friends. We're just a complicated mess. I hate this. I am delusional and naïve and...

I freeze.

My eyes shrink into fine thin slits and I lean forward when a golden boy walks out of one of the cars that stopped drifting. Passion flirtatiously walks to him and my face reddens when realisation slaps me on the face.

She wanted me to feel this way.

To dislike myself and hate myself for not letting her get what she wants.

I clench my jaw. That manipulative dark angel.

Her plan was to make me feel bad about myself so she could flirt with... Collen?

What the fuck? 

If I stay in here, I'll spend the night resenting myself, watching whatever bad thing that's ought to come, expose itself. I will sit here, wither and succumb.

It's the same thing isn't it?

I stay, she'll quickly end me. I go, she'll kill me slowly.

No, It's totally different.

The only similarity is that in the end I'll die, but I'd rather be killed slowly and softly by my radiant demon than ended quickly by her torture.

"Shit!" I hit my fist on the dashboard out of anguish and finally... resignation. I push the door open and jump out, walking into another entrance of her world. Repeating the words I promised to myself when we slashed tongues, only aloud this time. I mutter;

"If she'll kill me slowly, leave her be. I've always wanted to die anyway, but God forbid me ever allowing her to quickly end me."

Our story will end with us.