Damsel[ed]: Some Rescue Required (#2 of the Damsel[ed] series)

Chapter Thirty-One: Speak of Crashing and Burning

Heaven.

"Jaylin." I close my eyes and lean against the headrest, silently begging the damn thing to swallow me whole. Anything can happen if you want it badly enough. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but kidnapping is illegal." 

A series of crunches punctuates my words from the backseat. There's enough pressure in my head to pop my eyes out of their sockets, so I don't turn back to look at the girl I helped rescue. Instead, I grit my teeth and glare ahead. I know she's back there and I know Jaylin has to turn around and plop her right back where she found the girl. That's all I want to think about, right now, and if I try to tackle anything more serious, my head will explode.

"I'm not kidnapping her," Jaylin says. I crack an eye open just to roll it at her. She lifts hers and stares intently through the dirty windshield, her shoulders stiff and her fingers gripped perfectly at eight and four o'clock. Jaylin may be a kidnapper, a thief, and a manipulative, psychopathic witch, but the kid can drive. The roads grow bumpier as we head deeper into country territory, the trees taller and the air sweeter, smelling sharply of peaches and evergreen. Jay cranes her head, her tousled brown hair blowing in perfect little ringlets down her shoulders. It isn't even an illusion. She really looks this good driving a stolen van on a rescue mission. If only I were so lucky.

I stumble for words. "Y-Yeah, you are. She's in the back and—"

"Kid?" Jaylin asks, her voice pitched so high she sounds like a cartoon girl. "Am I kidnapping you?"

"Nope." The superhero girl snaps the 'p' like she's popping bubble gum. "I wanna know what you guys are doing."

I sigh, and as soon as I do, I decide I don't like that. I'm supposed to be an arguer, not someone who sighs in the face of evil. But I guess I'm going to have to deal with that, letting a supervillain take the wheel, figuratively and literally. I'm doing things Jaylin's way, apparently, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. 

Jaylin shoots me a look out of the corner of those wide, innocent eyes, a smirk drawing up on the edges of her pink lips. My fists ball instinctively, itching to be thrown. Trees and neon signs fly past the windows, my legs jerky and toes squirming in my sneakers. "Told ya," she says, glancing back at the road. "You ought to trust me more."

I raise my voice. "You indirectly killed me." Does it still hurt to talk? Absolutely. Each word squeezed through my stinging throat brings on a shock of pain. Jaylin keeps up her steady smirk. She knows it hurts. A puff of air escapes my lips. "No thanks. You don't get my trust." I have to be economical with my word choice.

"Hmph." The van jerks as she pulls sharply onto a shoulder. My head slams against the window. I yelp. "Whoops. Sorry, princess." She laughs, a sound so reserved and bubbly it only makes the pain burn that much more.

Save your words, Hev. Save them for your next fight with this bit—

"You guys don't seem to like each other very much," the girl says. Jaylin chuckles as I dig my nails into my palm. The front of the van feels claustrophobic, my knees too close to the dash, the seatbelt much more like a rope keeping me tied into this death trap over a safety measure. I shrug and hope the girl sees. 

"I just love Hevvy-Hev," Jay squeals. She takes a hand off the steering wheel and squeezes my shoulder. I flinch. "We're the best of friends, aren't we, Heaven?"

There's something about her saying my name, her even touching me, that makes me want to punch her. Instead, I stare ahead. Just ahead, as the stars trickle through the thin canopy of early spring trees. The windows still rolled down, I hang my fingers over the edge, hoping for just a taste, just a hint of the joy spring is supposed to give. This used to be my favorite time of year, with the green and the sun and the April Birthday. But now, how can I care? "Right, Heaven?"