Stories From 2011 (Dear Players, What's Mine, Queen Bee)

Queen Bee: Chapter 8

I make a sharp turn finally reaching the city; where a car so small like this one could get lost or perhaps cut through an alley and escape the po pos.

“Natasha, slow down!” Trent calls holding onto the door handle.

I burst out laughing.

“Mr. Tough Guy Player is scared of a little speed?” I tease pressing on the accelerator harder.

By now the cops are at least a block behind, but you can never be too sure, right?

“Seriously you’re going to get us killed!” He screams again and I roll my eyes.

“Wuss,” I mumble before spotting an alley and turning into it; stopping the car right before it crashes against the brick wall of a building.

“Never again,” Trent grumbles under his breath.

“Honey I have experience,” I say rolling my eyes even though he can’t see.

“What do you mean?” he asks and I can see his confused expression etched on his face.

Remind me to never see that face highlighted in the moonlight again; it brings a blush to me face.

I breathe out slowly trying to stop blushing long enough to answer his question calmly, just in case he can see me too.

“Why do you think I was shipped here?” I inquire making my voice as even as possible.

“Because you were a bad girl,” he says a suggestive tone to his voice.

I whack, well something of him, playfully.

“Ow! That was the back of my head,” He protests.

I grin, “Yeah well I can only see your face and you deserved that one perv,”

He sighs, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, continue?” he asks.

“Yes, I was a bad girl,” I reply grimacing, “But not that way!” I add quickly realizing I sound like a whore.

“Okay?”

“I was into racing, stealing, and anything really,” I say.

“Drugs, where you in drugs?” he asks quickly.

“No,” I respond just as quickly.

“Promise?”

“Of course,”

“Good,”

“Why is that so important to you?” I ask suddenly curious and forgetting what I was going to say.

“Because,” He looks away fixating his stare into the darkness, “That’s why my mother left.”

“She left for a richer drug addict; one that could feed her cocaine cravings,” he finishes and I can see the single tear the falls down his eye.

By an impulse greater than my common sense I search for his hand accidentally rubbing his upper leg.

“Natasha this is not a good time to be feeling me up,” Trent states seriously, but I can hear the amused underlying tone.

“Shut up, I was trying to find your hand so I could give it a reassuring squeeze,” I respond truthfully.

“Sure,” he replies disbelievingly.

“You’re impossible,” I say exasperated, but actually I’m happy to change the subject; to distract him from his hurting.

“Anyways what were you telling me?” Trent asks.

“I was telling you that I won’t crash. I have enough experience to outrun the cops,” And if he could see me he would see the stupid grin on my face.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not necessarily proud of what I’ve done, but I can’t change the past, can I?  Yeah I didn’t think so.  

“Why? Why did you do all those things?” Trent asks.

I sigh. So many people ask that question. Why? Well, for many reasons; for many painful reasons ones I don’t want to remember.

“Because like yours my mom left. But she did worse. She also stole the opportunity of me ever having a dad. She had me out of the blue; a one night stand. She doesn’t know who he is and then, then she stole the opportunity of having a mother from me too,” I whisper so softly it’s barely audible.

Trent’s quiet as we both sit there wallowing in self pity; in old better-if-forgotten memories. But still we know we’ll never forget; we can’t. A few cars pass by illuminating the alley for seconds at a time.

“The way she told me wasn’t pretty either,” I say after a while; cutting through the silence.

“My mother was a strange woman; kind of loopy,” I continue finding it hard to stop now that I’ve started.

Trent turns his head in my direction to tell me he’s listening, but now it’s me who’s looking straight ahead.

“She was intoxicated at the time. Of course I didn’t know it. I was only three, but the words she said stuck to my head like glue. You would think I would forget since she told me at such a young age; but I didn’t. I wish I would have,”

“She screamed in my face; told me I would never have a father when I asked her where mine went; what he was like. She told me she simply didn’t know. She didn’t know anything about him and that it was better that way. That she was positive he wouldn’t have wanted me anyways; whoever he was. Heck she told she didn’t want me. She told me she would get rid of me and that she did. It was the only promise she ever kept. Go figures,” I finish.

The tears in my eyes are straining to come down, but I haven’t cried in twelve years and I don’t’ plan on starting again now. I blink them back.

From the corner of my eye I watch as Trent opens and closes his mouth; but the words keep dyeing on his tongue. He ends up looking like a fish out of water. I chuckle softly.

“You don't know that,” he finally settles on something to say.

I look away.

“Well Bill’s going to have a fit,” I respond after a moment’s silence; changing the subject.

“How come?” Trent questions.

“Because we still have a drunk girl in the back,” I reply motioning to a passed-out Camille.

A: I know sad!! But this chapter is actually pretty vital. You’ll see why in the future. As always please remember to comment and vote!! Thanks:)

P.S Sorry for mistakes but I'm dead tired!