Past-Tense

Road Rage

It's been two hours in this damn car and my worry has far since worn off. I spent the first hour in this hellhole trying to convince myself that Nash wouldn't call the police since he doesn't particularly like them. He doesn't want them interfering with his marijuana. Speaking of which, I need to ditch this car soon, because there's probably a hidden stash of drugs in this car.

The farther I drive away from Agra, the more I feel that comforting wave of relief wash over me. The sky shows signs of getting lighter as I breeze along on the highway, since there's no traffic this early in the morning. I don't let myself be too happy; the Kansas city airport is about four and a half hours away from Agra.

Besides that, this is also not the most ideal car I would like to be making my escapade in. The air conditioner is broken, and I quickly find out that the radio is broken as well, so I revert to humming to myself. While quickly stopping for some gas, I also noticed that the back license plate is missing. This last thought causes me to speed up a little, hoping that the police hope to be a little lenient today. I don't want to pay fines for Nash.

At about three and a half hours into my journey, at about 7:30 AM, my phone starts buzzing with texts and calls from Dad. Ah good. He's probably sobered up by now. I notice that Rose doesn't call or text, which is surprising, considering that she's obsessed with her "new" hand-me down battered-up old phone. Almost as if she knows. The vibrations from my phone mess with the new song I'm humming, so I switch it off and bask in my old thoughts. This must have been what they had done in the old days. I'm surprised Nash hasn't called with threats or complaints yet. I hum louder, enjoying my solitude.

A half an hour away from the airport, I start worrying again. About Rose. And my dad. After my mom left, Dad stayed strong and took care of us for about a month before he started drinking and going through what Rose and I call his "phases". Every few weeks or so, Dad gets obsessed with some new way to ruin our lives even further than they already have been, and keeps doing it until he gets bored and finds something else to toy around with. Most recently it's been gambling.

It's not like Dad's a bad person. He doesn't mess with us or hit us or anything when he's drunk. He just retreats into the living room and sleeps until he's sober again, which is usually by morning. Then he gets up and goes back to work, another day at the office, and then he goes home and gets drunk again. We don't interfere with him because there's no point. He won't listen, and he still provides money for the family anyways.

I'm just worried about Rose. What if Nash goes after her or Dad loses his job and they don't have enough money and they have to live in the streets? I stop worrying about this thought when I realize that I'm just being selfish because I'm only worried about myself; I don't want to return to Agra. Ever.

Finally, at 8:12, I pull up into a parking lot nearby the airport. I check my bags again to make sure that I have my ticket and my wad of cash that I've been saving up since my 14th birthday. I take a deep breath and toy with the Iris pendant on the chain that Rose gave to me. Where did she get it? And what did she mean I have secrets too?

I yank the key out of it's slot, and as the roaring of the old engine dies down, I hear a faint buzzing from inside the dashboard. I open the glove compartment to find Nash's phone, alight with calls and missed texts from... Eloise? The screen lights up again with a call from her, revealing the row of hearts by her contact name, and a picture of a bleach blonde sitting on a boat in a bikini. I take out my Polaroid camera, one of my most beloved items, and snap a picture of her for later reference.

My finger hovers over End Call for so long that the call eventually ends by itself. I then unlock Nash's phone and check my contact name where it's simply just Iris. No hearts or anything. My face burns red and my heart swells with anger. Oh shut up, Iris. It's not like you actually loved him anyways.

I am about to check Nash's messages, but I check the clock. Shit. 40 minutes until my flight, which is not a lot of time since I plan on stopping for breakfast. One more thing before I leave this godforsaken Chevy for good. I decide to scope around Nash's pickup truck and see what other dirt I can find on him.

I gasp as I step out of the car and see the sun burning brightly over a mass array of office buildings and cars and bustling people. Agra had always been so small, this was like an entire new universe. My amazement quickly vanishes when I remember to save my astonishment for California. It's much bigger.

My shiny black heels click against the asphalt of this run-down parking lot as I stride towards the back of the car. There is a sun-warmed black tarp over the back of the pickup, and I fling it off, throwing it to the side. I examine the contents of the trunk, finding three long planks of wood, an axe, and a duffel bag. I unzip it to be greeted by the stench of marijuana and other illegal items. I grab a sharpie from the glove compartment and write Nash's full name on the duffel bag and add a polaroid of him that I had in my box of photos, in case anyone finds him. I also write his address on the back of the picture, for good measure.

                                                       NASHVILLE SULLIVAN

                                                          3468 MOUNT LANE

                                                             AGRA, KANSAS

Then I solemnly swing the axe into each of his tires, draining the air out of them with satisfaction. I get up, wipe the dry Kansas dust from my palms onto my black denim shorts. I grab my single suitcase that I had snuck into the truck a few days earlier and begin to waltz down the street towards the Kansas City airport.

I check my watch. Fuck fuck fuuuuck, I sing in my mind.

Half an hour until I get out of this hellhole.

30 fucking minutes, one girl in a dusty tank top, and one flight to catch.

Sorry about the short chapter... I hope you guys like this and if you have any better covers for this book, that would be greatly appreciated and I will give you a shout-out on my bio.

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JustMeAndMyMonsters