The Truck Driver

A Mother's Rage

Here's the final chapter before I catch this eight hour flight. Here y'all go, it's getting messy.

It had been two weeks since Martha had received that call from William, disguised as a Decatur Police officer. Two long weeks of agonizing thoughts of running scenarios in her mind, of wrestling with her guilt and shame. But now, there was no more waiting. She and Vince had finally made arrangements to drive down to Decatur.

Martha sat tensely in the passenger seat of their Toyota Camry as Vince gripped the steering wheel tight, his knuckles damn near turning white. His whole body was taut with anger, his mind spiraling in a dark, obsessive rage. The thought of Kayla living with another man—a trucker at that—was driving him crazy. He knew, without a doubt, that she was having sex with this Tank guy, and that shit didn't sit right with him.

Did she really think she could just run away and live her life like he wouldn't find her? Like she wasn't his to control?

Vince's jaw clenched as he switched lanes, weaving through traffic like a man on a mission. The drive from Richmond to Decatur was a smooth eight-hour trip, but every damn minute felt like an eternity. His thoughts were a storm, each one uglier than the last. He ran through all the ways he was going to punish Kayla once he got his hands on her.

He needed to remind her who the fuck she belonged to.

Meanwhile, Martha sat stiff beside him, her fingers nervously tapping against her thigh. Unlike Vince, her mind wasn't clouded with rage—it was drowning in regret. Gwen's words had haunted her every single day since Kayla left.

"You were a terrible mother, Martha. And you know it."

She couldn't argue with that.

Martha knew she had failed Kayla in every possible way—physically, emotionally, mentally. She had allowed the abuse. She had turned a blind eye to the way Vince looked at Kayla, the way he wanted her. She had known it was wrong, all of it, but she had been too weak, too cowardly to do anything about it.

And now... now her daughter was out in the world because she felt safer on the road than she ever did in her own home.

Martha swallowed hard, stealing a glance at Vince. His face was hard, his mouth pressed into a thin line as his hands tightened around the wheel.

She didn't know what he was planning exactly, but she knew it wasn't good.

For the first time in a long time, Martha wanted to do right by her daughter. She wanted to see Kayla, hold her, tell her she was sorry. But with Vince sitting beside her, driving faster and angrier by the second...

She wasn't sure if she'd ever get the chance.

Martha stared out of the window as the road signs blurred past, the familiar green and white markers counting down the miles to South Carolina. Closer to Georgia. Closer to Decatur. Closer to Kayla.

Her stomach clenched, twisting into knots so tight she could barely breathe. The further they got from Richmond, the heavier the weight on her chest became.

Vince, on the other hand, was stone-faced, his grip on the steering wheel still tight, his foot pressing harder on the gas as though he couldn't get there fast enough. His jaw ticked with every thought racing through his mind, and Martha could tell whatever was going through his head wasn't good.

Martha licked her dry lips, swallowing down the fear sitting heavy in her throat. "Vince..."

"What?" he snapped, eyes never leaving the road.

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "When we get there, just... just let me talk to her first."

Vince let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "You really think she wanna hear what the fuck you got to say?" His voice was low, filled with irritation. "She don't give a damn about you, Martha. She left you in the dust. But me?" He let out a sharp breath. "She owe me."