The Truck Driver

She Belongs to Me

Kayla showered quickly, letting the hot water soothe her sore muscles. She barely had the energy to lotion up, her body aching in the best way possible. Instead, she slipped under the comforter, completely bare, too tired to even think about putting on clothes.

Her eyes fluttered shut almost instantly, her body sinking into the mattress, but just as she was drifting off, she felt the bed dip. Warm, rough hands slid up her thigh, and a deep chuckle rumbled against her ear.

"Now, what I look like leavin' you uncovered like this?" Tank's voice was thick with amusement, but there was an underlying hunger there too. His fingers traced lazy circles along her hip, his body heat radiating against her back.

"Mmm," Kayla whined sleepily, too drained to fight him. "Tank, please... I need sleep."

Tank exhaled, brushing a kiss against her shoulder. "I know, baby. I ain't gon' mess with you. Just makin' sure you comfortable."

Kayla hummed as Tank pulled the covers up over her, tucking her in before settling in beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close so her back was flush against his chest. His breathing evened out, but his grip on her never loosened.

Kayla smiled sleepily. She had never felt so cared for, so claimed.

As exhaustion finally won, she fell into a deep sleep, wrapped in the safety of Tank's arms.

As Kayla slept peacefully in Decatur, back in Richmond her stepdad Vince and her mama Martha were still out there, hunting for her like a bounty. Her little sister Janay couldn't understand why Kayla always got all the attention—even after all this time, three months into the search, Kayla was still the hot topic around their house.

Martha paced the living room, her eyes blazing with worry and anger. "I can't believe that little bitch closed her bank account," she spat, puffing on her cigarette with a venomous glare. "She ran off and left us in the lurch, and now—now we're still lookin' for her!"

Vince, his voice low and dangerous with that heavy possessive tone of his, snarled, "I ain't gonna let her get away with this. She's mine and I'm gonna drag her little black ass back to Richmond if I gotta hunt her down myself."

Janay, ever the confused child, piped up, "Mama, she don't want to be found. She don't wanna come home."

"Shut up, Janay," Martha snapped, her tone harsh. "Until you have children of your own, you wouldn't know how it feels to worry! Your sister—our daughter—ran away, and I can't stand it!"

Janay rolled her eyes, her 17-year-old  mind unable to grasp the full weight of their anguish. Across the room, 14-year-old Adonis shuffled his feet, his voice small but earnest, "I just hope she's okay wherever she is."

Vince's eyes narrowed as he glared at the silent family. "I'm tellin' y'all, when I find her, I'm draggin' her back to Richmond. No more runnin', no more excuses." His tone left no room for negotiation.

Martha's fury simmered as she exhaled smoke into the stale air. "I just can't believe she'd do this to us. To our family."

Vince sat back on the couch, rubbing his jaw in frustration. "She ain't gone too far. Somebody's helpin' her. She ain't got the brains to just up and disappear like that."

Martha sucked her teeth, her nerves shot as she flicked ashes into a glass ashtray. "I still don't understand why she would just up and leave. Like we did somethin' so wrong."

Janay scoffed, crossing her arms. "Maybe 'cause y'all did."

Martha's eyes cut to her youngest daughter. "You better watch your damn mouth, Janay."