The Truck Driver

Geaseball

While Kayla and Tank were cuddled up in Kentucky in the back of his rig, wrapped in each other's warmth, her stepfather, Vince, couldn't stop thinking about her. Six months. Six whole months, and not a damn word except a random charge at Walmart using her debit card. It didn't sit right with him.

How was she surviving? Where the hell was she? And most importantly—who the hell was she with?

He had driven across town to Josh's parents' house, hoping for answers. If anyone knew where Kayla was, it had to be that damn boy.

Josh stood in the doorway, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait—Kayla ran away?"

Vince crossed his arms. "Yeah, and ain't nobody seen or heard from her since."

Josh shook his head, genuinely shocked. Kayla had been his first everything, and even though he didn't always treat her right, he never thought she'd disappear like this. "I—I don't know where she is, man. Last time I talked to her was right before she left."

Josh's mother, Diane, appeared in the doorway, arms folded. "She hasn't reached out to you?"

"No, ma'am." Josh rubbed the back of his neck, clearly troubled. "If I knew, I'd tell y'all. I swear."

Vince studied the boy's face, trying to decide if he was lying. But something told him Josh was just as clueless.

Meanwhile, Martha sat at the kitchen table, staring at the bank statements again. It made no sense. The last charge on Kayla's debit card before she closed the account had been at a Walmart... in Maine.

She shook her head, frustration mounting. "Now how the hell she get to Maine?" she muttered to herself.

Maine. That was so far out of left field, it only made her more suspicious. Kayla wasn't some world traveler. She barely went anywhere without asking for permission.

So what the hell happened? Who took her there? And why?

Vince stepped inside, tossing his keys on the counter. "Josh don't know shit," he grumbled.

Martha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This ain't makin' sense, Vince. One day she here, the next she gone, and the last thing I know, she was at a damn Walmart in Maine? Maine, Vince?"

"I know," Vince muttered, rubbing his chin. "Something ain't right."

Martha's jaw tightened. "We need to find her."

Martha's sister, Gwen, stepped into the kitchen, shaking her head with a knowing smirk.

"Hmm." Gwen hummed, crossing her arms.

Martha rolled her neck, already exhausted. "What, Gwen?"

"I just can't believe you let your daughter slip between your fingers." Gwen taunted, her voice laced with judgment.

Martha's jaw tightened. "Gwen, this isn't the time."

Gwen waved her off, not the least bit concerned. "It's never the time with you. But the truth is, you were a terrible mother to that girl, and now you're so fixated on her running away like you didn't push her to it."

Martha's face twisted with anger. "I was NOT a terrible mother!" she snapped.

"Oh, really?" Gwen arched a brow. "You beat that girl like she was some random woman in the streets when you found out she was having sex with that boyfriend of hers—hell, you didn't even give her a chance to cover up before you went swinging. And in front of everybody? You humiliated her, Martha. That's not discipline, that's abuse."