She's cruising in the passenger seat with him through town. The windows are down, inviting the night air in and out. It dances around her head, fluffing her afro and whistling in her ears.
The sky is dark around each cluster of stars, and they pass building after building so tall that they shield the moon from her line of sight.
"It was a surprise seeing you at the bus stop," he says with a smile, and Judith breaks away from the scenery to look at him. She nods. "What were you doing out this late at night anyway, Miss. Twelve-year-old?"
"Looking for drugs," she confesses when he chuckles. His smile gradually fades at her answer, and the lingering twinge of hope leaves when he looks into her earnest eyes. She pulls her lips into a straight line and nods again. "Yeah, uh, my life sucks right now, and it's hard staying sane and sober when everything around you just -"
He repeatedly glances at her and the road. She hangs her head and picks at the skin under her left thumbnail.
"You sound melancholic." Judith scoffs, and tears lift onto the brims of her eyes.
"A girl's ready to end her life with pills or whatever money can buy, and that's the conclusion you draw?" She leans back in her seat and mumbles, "And fools pay money for someone to say this same shit."
He doesn't respond, and she remains silent as well. The short-haired man licks his lips and reaches across her. She clinches her teeth together, sucking in air between the gaps, watching him open his glovebox.
A bright orange light flickers on when the door leans open, and it shines onto a black handgun and a small baggie of white powder.
"Normally, this stuff'll run you maybe five hundred," he says while returning behind the wheel, placing his right hand at two o'clock. "But since you're desperate - and sad - I'll give it to you for thirty bucks."
Who is he?
"What're you, a cop?" Judith nervously chuckles at her question, but he doesn't even crack a smile. The man looks in the rearview, then at the road, and following his gaze, she notices trees surrounding them. "What's your name? Where are we?"
"We're still in Florence, don't fret," he assures her. She whips her head to her door and sighs from relief when she sees the pin's lifted; it's not locked. "Do you have the money?"
Judith looks ahead as he veers onto a dirt path, inching away from trees. She frantically lies, "I don't really do drugs. I just left to clear my head so pay no mind to what I said before."
Oh, my God.
News articles of Donald - Pee Wee - Gaskins Jr flash before her eyes, and he stops the car at the edge of a ridge guarded by chestnut-colored fences. She sits her hands at her sides and lightly pats her pockets with her thumbs, hoping for a weapon.
She'd left the knife in the top drawer of her dresser, and her heart practically falls into her stomach at the realization.
He turns the key and shuts the engine off, leaving it hanging out of the ignition. He's silent, almost menacingly quiet, and Judith feels a lump cramming into her throat.
"So, yes or no," he calmly asks. She looks ahead, taking shaky breaths that whistle in and out of her open mouth.
"I - I don't have," she stops herself as he leans across her again, yelping from the sudden motion. He snatches the black pistol from under the warm light, and as he returns his back to the seat, he sighs. Her eyes are glued to the glass, tears trailing down her lashes and cheeks.
I'm gonna die.
That thought repeats in her head, leaving no room for another, and her body stiffens as if she is dead.
"If you don't have any money," he begins to speak, but she interrupts him.
"I can't - I won't - have sex with you!" He swings his head to his right, his chin resting on the front of his shoulder as he locks eyes with her. Her chest is rising and falling, and her right-hand fingers inch towards the edge of her seat. "Please take me home."
A grin finally grows on his mouth, then a light chuckle escapes.
"You're funny, Miss. Jefferson," he says, and she furrows her brows. She takes a breath to speak, but he continues, "I wouldn't lay with a girl as young as you. Your Daddy might kill me or have me arrested. Maybe forty years ago, I would've."
"How do you know my name," she asks, ignoring his obscene statement. Her hand reaches the door, and her pinky sits against the window roller.
"I can remember a lot. Time in service is to blame for that, I suppose." Judith bends her elbow and slowly lifts her hand towards the handle. She glances at the gun on his lap and tight in his grasp, then at him.
"So you know my name," she says, and he nods. She can hear her heart in her ears and feel the remaining water gliding down her spine. "Tell me yours?"
"Or," he begins and leans his face closer to hers, resting his left arm over the top of the steering wheel. Her pinky hooks around the door handle. "You can tell me who I have to shoot for causing your melancholy."
Her heart skips a beat, and she quietly stares into his sea-blue eyes, waiting for the punchline to a terrible joke. He snickers as he leans away from her, and she chuckles nervously.
The rest of her hand wraps around the handle, but before she whips the door open, he jerks the hammer and smiles at her when the gun clicks.
Judith returns her shaky arm to her side, then turns her head to gaze through the windshield. The full moon is staring down at them as she stares up at it, and at that moment, she feels unexplainably exposed.
"Listen, I won't hurt you," he finally says, but she doesn't feel relief. The man sits the pistol on his lap and shakes his head, sympathy in his eyes. "As I told you on the bus, I have kids, and I mean just that; kids. They come to me crying, and I see red, so this gun is my peace of mind."
"I don't," she pauses as another tear rushes down her left cheek. Her nose and eyes are rosy, and her stomach is twisting in knots. "Understand."
"I'm saying that I know I barely know you, but I feel protective of you." Judith doesn't respond, nor does she look at him, so he continues, "If your Daddy weren't in your life, I'd feel - almost indebted to you."
"You're scaring me," she mutters. "I'm a stranger. There's nothing to feel indebted for, but, I don't know, me allowing you to sit with me on the bus, but that was nothing."
"No, it wasn't that. I've always had the worst of luck with jobs, but after I gave you my number, I'm guessing your friends," he begins, but she cuts him off.
"I forgot to give my friends your number," Judith rushes the confession out of her mouth, and he stares at her with the rest of his sentence trapped behind his white teeth. "So, there's nothing to be grateful to me for."
"Hm." He leans into his seat and stares down the ridge at the town. "Well, that's - unfortunate."
"My mother will worry," she mumbles, and he sits his finger on the trigger. Licking his lips, he looks at her again and props his elbow on the armrest, aiming the gun upward.
"My kids need a Daddy who can provide for them, and before tonight, before this - this moment, I," he stammers over his words, waving his weapon between them. Judith stares wide-eyed at her reflection in the side mirror and immediately feels lightheaded.
Run, Judy.
"But if you're telling the truth," he begins, then points the barrel at her left ear. She squeezes her misty eyes shut. "Then what's the point? I'll lose my job again, only this time I'll lose my kids to their grandmother; I'll burn the house down with them in it before I let that happen!"
"Please," she says while wailing, and he stares at her wet face. He tugs the corner of his mouth into a sinister smirk, then jerks the trigger back. It clicks, and as her eyes dart open, she gasps. They look at each other, and he fires again, then again; Nothing.
"It's empty," he states the obvious as if he already knew, and he leans away, laughing hysterically at her reaction.
Judith slowly veers her bulging eyes onto her window, taking labored breaths with the taste of vomit irritating her chest. It's waiting just below the lump that she's suddenly grateful is obstructing most of her breath.
He sits the weapon on his lap and turns the key, still cackling like a hyena. The engine roars, and she blinks rapidly as if she's close to fainting.
***
He pulls against the road in front of the bus stop, and with his foot on the brake, he looks at her. She's staring at her clogs, her mind replaying the event almost an hour ago.
"Should I drop you off in front of your house?" His question snaps her out of her head, and she whips her attention to him.
"You know where I live?" He shakes his head with his eyebrows knitted, and she exhales from relief. "Um, I'm fine. It's a good ways from here, but I could use the walk."
"Alright, suit yourself." He takes his pistol in his right hand as she steps out of his car. He returns it to the glove compartment, shutting the door finally, and Judith sprints down the sidewalk to her house.
She begins to hyperventilate, and her legs wobble beneath her. The air no longer feels comforting against her skin. At that moment, it feels almost violent.
She feels it push her toward her porch in a hurry that she interprets as the Earth furthering her from him, but she's unable to appreciate the notion.
Judith stands in front of her front door and frantically turns the knob, but it doesn't budge.
No...No, No, No, please, No!
She jiggles the knob a little longer before banging her fists against the chest of the barrier keeping her outside. Her eyes are wide and full of fear, and she can feel the sting of the awaiting vomit slowly rising.
Judith hears the lock clicking, and she returns her arms to her side. The door swings open with her uncle behind it and her mother behind him.
"Judy," Sheryl whisper yells. They step aside, and she sprints over the threshold. She looks around the room, her chest heaving and her heart ready to jump out of her chest. They stand across from her, and Sheryl folds her arms, allowing her uncle to chastise her on her behalf.
"Your mother sent your sister to sleep in your room, and before I could go to sleep, I heard her screaming for you; you weren't in the house," he retells to her what happened with anger in his voice and on his face. "She was worried sick, and who can blame her? You could've been killed! Do you have any idea how stupid you've been acting lately?"
Judith takes an unsteady step back, and they look her up and down before she turns to the stairs. Sheryl looks at Rembrandt just as he does the same to her, and then they return their attention to Judy.
"Don't walk away from him while he's talking to you!" Judith stands on the first step and whips herself to them, squeezing her hands into fists. Taking labored breaths, she screams a wordless cry of agony that pushes veins out of the sides of her neck.
The two jolt from the unexpected ear-splitting shriek. Sheryl sits her hands over her chest and steps forward to watch her run upstairs. She turns her head to her uncle, both startled and confused.
Judith bursts through her bedroom door, and as she scrambles around the foot of her bed, Vera sits up with the comforter falling onto her lap.
"Judy?" She watches her dash into the bathroom. Judith collapses to her knees in front of her toilet, like a commoner to a king on his throne, and she hoists the lid back. Vera slides off the right side of the bed and stands under the arch to watch her vomit. "Are you okay?"