Jessie Murphy is released from prison with the intention of escaping her past. Homeless and alone, her plans to dodge karma's spite seem more like wishful thoughts until a shot of Wild Turkey turns things around.
She ends up lost in the wilderness...
Throughout the night, as I lay curled in my worn blanket surrounded by cold, dank cement, I thought about the man. Each time I revisited that smooth voice, his simple joke, and the forgotten feeling of genuine laughter, I found it harder not to smile again.
It'd been fun. Fun. I didn't have fun, and I especially shouldn't have been having fun now, of all times.
But he'd shared his drink with me, expecting nothing in return. He'd made no objection, nor shown any sign of irritation when I'd made my abrupt escape.
What was his angle? Didn't he know that's not how it works? Men buy women drinks so they'll sleep with them. I remembered his smooth explanation of the others around us and stared stoically at the ground beneath me. He'd seen right through me, every scar, physical and non. You seemed like you needed it.
I pushed thoughts of him away and focused on the warmth instead. The alcohol still coursed through my blood and chased away the October chill. I prayed it'd chase away my demons as well.
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A soft pat to my face woke me. "Girl," another slap, "Get up! What're you doin'? You're usually gone by now."
I clenched my eyes shut tighter. He might as well have been beating me in the head with a hammer with his gentle slaps, and the sound of his voice shot daggers to my brain and bile into my throat. "I'm not going. Go away." I tried to turn, but one grizzled hand stopped me.
Mr. Frankfire yanked me to my back and peered down through narrowed eyes. "Are you sick?" His furrowed brow and pursed mouth deepened the wrinkles on his face. He palmed my forehead, then my cheek. "You're not hot."
I shook him away. "There's no point. Nobody's going to hire me. I've gone all the way across town."
His jaw set. "That's bullshit, girl. Get up! You must not be doing it right." He bared his teeth when I didn't move. "C'mon! Get your shit! We're going!"
His heightened tone was a jackhammer to my shriveled and dying brain. I sucked in a breath and clutched my forehead. "Fuck off, old ma– Mother Fuck! Ow! Ow!"
He gripped my ear and yanked hard. "No respect! You young people nowadays think you can talk to elders however you damn well please! Not me!" He released his grip, and showed no remorse as I rubbed the spot where he'd held me. "Get. Your. Shit."
I sneered at his retreating form. The fact that I hadn't swung on him was a testament that my soft spot for the old man had gone too far. Regardless, I grabbed my pack from the ground, hoisted it over my shoulder, and muttered every vile word I could think of as I fought to catch up.
We walked for ages, and I didn't hide my smug expression when each place the old man pointed too was one I'd already tried. Then we made it to the grocery store, and I made a point to pull my hood up and let my face fall forward.
