Chapter Text
God hates me, is the only thought that fills my head as the sweltering sun brutally beats down on me. My old backpack feels twice as heavy as it normally does even though I haven’t put anything else in it. Texas heat during the summer is nothing to fuck around with, yet here I am fucking around. I can feel the handle of my daddy’s old pistol in my pocket as it chafes against my side as I walk.
I can hear the power lines above me drone and buzz tauntingly, the electricity pulsing through their wires. It’s somewhat calming, though. It’s a reminder of civilization, a reminder that I’m not the only person alive.
The sight of an old gas station further up the road makes me sigh dramatically with relief.
God bless America.
As I get closer, I can make out the large sign above it. It reads “Ricky’s” in large red letters. The station looks old, maybe built in the seventies. That doesn’t matter, though. It’s far better than the last one I stopped at. An old Exxon with broken windows and a busted air conditioner that smelled like stale cigarettes and piss. I’m pretty sure I saw about three people steal something in the half an hour I spent in there. At least this one is clean.
Upon entering, I can confirm that this one has a fully functioning air conditioner. There’s a radio and television as well. Fancy.
The old man behind the counter, who I assume is Ricky, greets me as I walk in the door. “Howdy!” He says cheerfully.
“Hey there,” I wave back before turning away, off to wander through the short aisles in search of sustenance.
I take a long gander at my options for food. There’s quite a selection, and I’m hungry as shit. I can’t get carried away, though. I’m not running low on money yet, but I’m no idiot. I need to make it stretch.
After meandering for a short while, I eventually decide on a turkey sandwich from the refrigerated section and a strawberry ice cream bar to fulfill my insatiable sweet tooth.
I make sure to adjust my tattered flannel over the pistol in my pocket before approaching the register. A girl with a gun around these parts isn’t uncommon by any means. I’m sure he’s dealt with worse, but just in case.
I stop in my tracks once I approach the register, causing my dirty Nikes to squeak against the tile floor.
There’s someone already standing there, chatting with Ricky. He’s buying a sandwich as well, with the addition of a pack of Marlboro Reds.
Fuck me. A cigarette sounds nice.
My mouth salivates as I imagine it. The long, harsh drag. The white smoke filling my lungs. The calming buzz vibrating throughout my body like the currents in the power lines.
I swallow and bite my cheek. Cigarettes are way too expensive. I’m better off just bumming one off of someone else.
I look at the mysterious stranger with intention. I’m sure if I give him the right look and pitch my voice just right, he’ll be glad to let me have one. He doesn’t look like the type, but I know better. All men are the same.
“Long drive ahead?” I hear Ricky ask with a deep Texan drawl.
The stranger runs his hand through his perfectly styled black hair and responds with a deep monotone voice. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Well, drive safe then. Lots of deer ‘round these parts. They like to jump out at night, so be careful.”
“Sure thing. Take care, old man,” he says promptly before leaving.
I walk up to the counter and wordlessly throw my items down.
“How ya doin’, Sweetpea?”
I shrug. “Alright.”
“You hitchen?” He asks while ringing my items.
I eye him suspiciously. “Maybe, what’s it matter?”
“It don’t matter nothin’, just be careful is all. Lotta no good sons of bitches out there.”
“You don’t gotta tell me twice.”
He huffs in understanding. “Right then. Three eighty’s your total.”
I dig in my bag and hand him a fiver.
He hands my change to me, and I shove it in my back as quickly as possible.
I need to catch cigarette man.
Just before I turn to walk out the door, Ricky’s voice pulls my attention back towards him. “Say, you don’t gotta answer this but, uhh… D’you think I look old?”
-
I rush out the door quickly, saying a silent goodbye to the air conditioner. I look back and forth in search of the cigarette man. He’s nowhere to be found, but his car is still parked by the gas pump.
I peek my head around the corner of the building to find him standing there, tossing a cigarette bud on the ground before immediately lighting up another one.
He has his back turned to me, so I take the opportunity. I walk up to him confidently and tap him on the back.
He turns around swiftly with a dirty look on his face. His glare softens a bit once he gets a good look at me, but it doesn’t fade completely.
I’m immediately taken aback by his face. His features are sharp and angular, almost in a feminine manner. He has a nice nose and a prominent jawline. I can’t tell how old he is just by looking at him, but I assume he’s at least thirty, judging by the fine lines forming around his eyes and mouth. Cold grey eyes drill into my skull as he waits for me to say something, but I’m left speechless.
He’s handsome alright, handsome as the days are long.
“Uh, can I have one of those?” I curse myself as soon as the question leaves my mouth. Definitely not the delivery I was intending, but he’s making me nervous.
He arches an eyebrow and rolls his eyes. “Tch, really?”
I blink a few times and stare at him blankly. “Uh, yeah.”
“No money for your own, so you decide to bother a random stranger?”
“Uh, yeah?”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “Tch, fucking brat. Jesus fucking Christ.”
I look at him in anticipation, waiting for his verdict.
He looks me seriously in the eyes. “You only want cigarettes? That’s all?”
I nod in confirmation.
“Just letting you know now, if you’re lookin’ for something else, you got the wrong guy.”
I look back at him, appalled. “Hey, I’m not some junkie!”
“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?!”
“You know what, forget it. Keep your fucking cigarettes. God forbid a girl ask.”
I turn to walk away before I feel a strong hand on my shoulder.
He spins me around and pushes me down, forcing me to sit on the small curb. “No, no. You stay there. I’ll be right back.”
He walks back into the store, leaving me sitting there alone.
I can feel my ice cream bar getting soft, so I rip the packaging open and shove it in my mouth. The partially melted ice cream drips down my chin as I attempt to slurp up all the liquid.
In the midst of me deep-throating my ice cream bar, the stranger returns with a second pack of cigarettes in his hand.
He looks down at me, disgusted, as more of my ice cream bar falls victim to the ruthless Texas heat. “That can’t be that good.”
“Well, it is,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Here,” he says, tossing the pack of Marlboros on the curb next to me. “Make that stretch until you can buy your own. Don’t go asking strange men for cigarettes anymore, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I salute him sarcastically.
He walks off then, getting into his shiny black Mazda, shoving the keys in the ignition, and driving off.
I catch a glimpse of his license plate as he drives off. A California plate, and he’s headed east.
Maybe he’s just on a road trip, maybe he’s going somewhere new, or maybe he lives in the area and still has his old license plate. Honestly, though, who cares? My theories about the frustratingly hot cigarette man will never be answered. I’ll never see that man again.
You will be missed, I think to myself as I pull my lighter from my bag and light up my first cigarette from the pack.
Honestly, if I saw him again, I’d start believing in God.
-
I have absolutely no idea how long I’ve been walking for. What I do know is that the sun is starting to set, and I know I’m nowhere near the next rest stop.
I hold my thumb out desperately, trudging my way along the thoroughfare. Cars and trucks pass me by, one after the other. It’s starting to get dark, and just when I begin to come to terms with the fact that I’m fucked beyond belief, a large red Chevy slows down and pulls next to me on the side of the road. Funnily enough, it also has a California license plate.
I look to find there’s a man inside, fucking lovely. He has long, dark brown hair and green eyes. He looks to be about my age, which is slightly more comforting, but I still approach with caution.
“Need a ride?” He asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer.
“Yeah, just to the next stop.”
“Alright, hop in,” he says as he unlocks the doors. “I’m headed to Fort Worth; I can take you there.”
The weight of my daddy’s pistol in my pocket seems to double as I hop in the front seat. I keep my bag close and my hand rested on the grip of my gun. He seems kind and normal enough, but looks can be deceiving.
He puts the truck in drive and starts back on the highway. Sublime plays loudly from the radio, but he turns the volume down. “So, where you headed?” He asks me over the now quiet music.
“New York,” I reply simply.
He looks at me in shock. “Woah, New York? You’re a long way out.”
“I’m aware.”
He chuckles and turns to me. “Why New York? You tryna make it big?”
“Guess you could say that.”
“What is it then? Singing, acting?”
“I wanna go to art school,” I correct him.
“Art school, huh? You any good?”
“Yeah, I am,” I nod confidently.
“Hm, alright. How old are you anyway?”
“Just turned twenty.”
“Gotcha. We’re close in age. I’m twenty-two.”
I hum in response, fighting back sleep. I look out the window into the darkening landscape and force my eyes to remain open.
“You got a name, then? I’m Eren.”
“Jane,” I say simply.
He side-eyes me. “Is that actually your name?”
It’s not, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah, it is now.”
He huffs at that and leans back in his seat. “Why are you going to New York anyway? It’d be much easier to make it to LA. I’m sure there’s plenty of art schools there.”
“Need a change of scenery.”
“You running from something, then?”
I say nothing. I don’t move a muscle either. I simply stare into the endless concrete road; the white and yellow lines pass by so fast they merge into one never-ending line.
“Where are you coming from anyway?”
“Tucson.”
“Tucson, huh? You raised there?”
“No, South Carolina.”
“How’d you end up all the way in Tucson, then?”
“My daddy died, Mama got remarried, we moved to Tucson.”
“Sorry about your dad.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“I know what it’s like, though, to lose a parent. My mom died in a not-so-great way. So, I get it.”
“Sorry about your mom.”
He waves his hand in dismissal. “It was a long time ago.”
-
It’s almost nine o’clock when we need to stop for gas. The town we stop in is some forgettable, backwater town that most people wouldn’t bother to learn the name of.
He pulls up to the pump and parks his truck. “You hungry?,” he asks me while pulling a few twenties out of his pocket.
“Yeah, but you don’t have to, though.”
“It’s not a problem. You stay here and keep the doors locked,” he tells me sternly.
I watch him hop out of the car and walk into the gas station. I follow his advice and lock the doors immediately. As far as I’m aware, there are no other people around, but you never know.
Left alone with my own thoughts, I begin to wonder about my mother. She’s probably reported me missing by now. Maybe I’ll see my face on the side of a milk carton.
I wait there tensely for about ten minutes before Eren yanks the truck door open, scaring me out of my thoughts.
“I’m not sure what you like, so I got you a ham sandwich and some chips,” he says while tossing them into my lap.
He gets back out of the car to pump the gas, and I immediately tear into the bag of chips. They’re just plain Lays, but I’m so hungry. They taste like the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
Eren gets back into the car once he’s finished and hands me a bottle of water. “Here’s some water too.”
I snatch it from him immediately and start chugging. I have a small water bottle in my backpack, but I forgot to fill it when I stopped at Ricky’s because I was trying to catch cigarette man.
“It’s not going anywhere. You’ll make yourself sick if you drink it too fast,” Eren warns me.
“I haven’t had any water all day,” I explain.
“Yeah, I kinda figured.”
Once he’s finished, we pull away from the ominous gas station and back onto the road. I continue to scarf down my food, and he cracks open a large can of Red Bull. “You can sleep if you want. We won’t be in Fort Worth till morning.”
“Aren’t you tired, though?” I ask him with a mouth full of food.
He shrugs. “Yeah, but I got places to be.”
“Why are you going to Fort Worth?”
“Going to see my girlfriend.”
“You have a girl?” I ask him, surprised.
“Yeah, we’ve known each other our whole lives. She moved for college, though, so I’m going to visit her.”
“That’s sweet. What’s her name?”
“Mikasa.”
That’s a weird name.
“Never heard that one before,” I say curiously.
“Her mom was from Japan.”
“Oh, I see. That’s cool.”
“You got a boyfriend?” He asks me, taking a sip from his drink.
“Does it look like I have a fucking boyfriend?” I ask rhetorically, shoving the last of the sandwich in my mouth.
He chokes on his drink slightly and laughs. “No, it doesn’t. I just didn’t wanna assume.”
I swallow the last of my food and roll my eyes.
“I’m going to sleep now. If you try anything, I’ll gouge out your eyes,” I threaten and climb my way to the back seat. I decide to use my backpack as a pillow. I lay my head down and close my eyes.
“I won’t,” I hear him say. “Swear on my mother’s grave.”
-
I’m shaken awake by Eren the next morning. “Hey, wake up. We’re here.”
My eyes shoot open, and I sit up startled. “We’re here?”
“Yeah, you slept the whole way.”
It’s morning now, but just barely. I look at the digital clock on the dash, and it reads five fifty-seven o’clock. I look out the window to confirm that we are in fact in Fort Worth. He’s stopped us at a truck stop, by the looks of things.
“Are they even open?” I ask him.
“Pretty much. They open at six, so you should be able to shower and get something to eat if you want to.”
“Okay, umm, thank you for the ride, like, seriously. I would’ve been royally fucked if you hadn’t picked me up.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. Just a word of advice, though. Stay away from truckers. Even if you’re desperate, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He sighs and moves out of the way so I can exit the back of his truck. I quickly grab my bag and open it to make sure everything’s still in there.
After examining the contents and confirming that all of my things are in order, I slide out of the truck onto the unforgiving concrete.
“Thank you again.”
“Like I said, it’s no problem,” he chimes nonchalantly as he gets back in the driver’s seat.
“I hope you know how to use that gun.”
My eyes widen in confusion. “How do you know—“
I’m cut off by the revving of his engine and the loud sound of Sublime blaring from the radio before he suddenly takes off, leaving just as quickly as he came. It’s almost like he was never there to begin with.
I huff in annoyance. “That bastard.”
-
I walk into the truck stop as soon as it opens. The girl sitting at the front counter visibly rolls her eyes and looks me up and down. She definitely knows I’m hitchhiking. She probably thinks I’m some kind of lot lizard. Like that even matters. She can think whatever she wants; I’m just here for a shower and some food, then I’ll never see her again.
“What can I help you with?” She drawls with an annoying, high-pitched voice.
“A shower, please,” I say politely.
“Eight dollars and seventy cents.”
Goddamn, I knew it was going to be expensive, but eight dollars is more than average.
I bite the bullet and put a ten-dollar bill on the table, looking her dead in the eyes.
She continues to scowl at me as she gives me my change. “The showers are all the way in the back left corner. There’s a sign above the entrance. Toiletries are in each stall already,” she explains and hands me a key.
I take it from her and wordlessly walk away in the direction of the showers.
There are five stalls, and they’re all vacant.
I choose the last stall on the end, entering it, locking the door, and immediately stripping off my dirty clothes. I put my daddy’s pistol in my backpack and set it on the small bench by the sink.
Thankfully, the lady at the front desk wasn’t lying about the toiletries. A towel, a wash rag, soap, shampoo, and conditioner are all sitting there neatly on the sink counter.
I decided to pee first before I shower, not realizing how much I needed to before I saw the toilet. I finish peeing, stand up, then look in the toilet before I flush it. It’s pretty dark yellow.
I should probably drink more water.
I step into the actual shower portion of the room and turn the knob to hot. The water instantly rushes out of the showerhead onto my dirty skin. It’s room temperature at best, but the pressure is nice, so I don’t mind.
The water that runs off my skin and hair is a murky brown color. Ew.
Shit, I probably smell fucking awful. I have a can of spray deodorant, but that can only do so much.
I grab the soap and the wash rag and start scrubbing vigorously at my skin, but gently washing over the small cuts on my legs.
My tan lines from walking in the sun all day are the most intense I’ve ever had. My usual brown skin is harshly contrasted by a rich, much darker color that’s almost jarring.
Once I’m finished scrubbing the dirt and sweat off my body, I discard the now stained wash rag and grab the shampoo.
I do the same thing with my scalp, scrubbing at it harshly with my fingers to wash the buildup off my hair.
I then grab the small bottle of cheap conditioner and squeeze the whole thing into my hand before running it through my curls, which have basically become waves at this point due to the dirt and sweat. I carelessly detangle my hair before rinsing out the conditioner.
Normally, I’d like to take my time in the shower, but right now I can’t be fooling around. It’ll probably take me the whole day to make it out of Dallas. God, hopefully I can hitch another ride.
I turn the shower off, walk over to the sink, and roughly dry myself off before pulling out my one change of clothes I brought with me.
They’re identical to the clothes I was wearing. Denim shorts and an old tee shirt. I’ll need to stop at a laundromat soon. Maybe if I can find enough quarters on the ground, I’ll stop at one before I leave the city.
Once I’m dressed, I shove my daddy’s gun back in my pocket, tie my dirty flannel around my waist, and slip my socks and shoes on.
I leave the shower stall and make my way back to the front desk to return the key only to find that the lady is no longer there.
I swivel my head around trying to spot her, but she’s nowhere to be found. I set the key on the counter and slowly shift my focus to the glass case full of baked goods directly next to the desk.
Normally, I’m not one to steal things, but that lady pissed me off just enough that I’m feeling spiteful.
I’ll never come back here, so who cares? There’s basically nobody in here to see me anyway.
I glance around one last time just to be sure, then I reach around into the glass case and grab the largest blueberry muffin from the row.
-
I quickly walk out of the truck stop, my muffin in hand, with a newfound sense of confidence.
It’s amazing what a shower and some sugar can do for you.
I continue walking past the gas pumps to make my way onto the sidewalk when I spot a familiar shiny black Mazda with a California license plate.
By the grace of God, it’s cigarette man.
He’s standing there, leaning against the side of his car, waiting for the gas to finish pumping.
I contemplate ignoring him and continuing on, but it all feels too coincidental, like I was meant to meet him here.
Maybe God is real after all.
I quickly start in his direction; however, he has his back turned towards me.
“Never thought I’d see you again!” I yell as I approach him confidently.
He whips his head around and looks at me in disbelief, which eventually morphs into annoyance. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He groans, rolling his eyes dramatically.
“Hey! What the fuck did I do to you?”
“Nothing really. I just don’t enjoy being around annoying children.”
“I’m twenty.”
“Wow, that’s even worse. How the fuck did you even get here anyway?”
I shrug and take a large bite of my muffin.“Hitched a ride, obviously.”
“I thought I told you not to talk to any strange men?”
I swallow and shake my head. “No, you told me not to ask for cigarettes from strange men. There’s a difference.”
“Tch, yeah, like that makes it any better.”
“You’re a strange man. The guy who picked me up was a lot more normal than you.”
“I’m sure he was,” he deadpans, looking around for a moment before turning back to me. “Why the hell are you hitchhiking anyway? Where are you trying to get to?”
“New York.”
He looks at me in disbelief again and leans his head back. “Good lord, of course you fucking are.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I’m also going to New York.”
The hot cigarette man is going to New York. Maybe God doesn’t hate me. I just need to convince him to let me tag along.
“Really?! That’s perfect! You should let me come with you.”
“Absolutely the fuck not.”
My face falls. “What?! Why?”
“Because I’m a strange man, like you said. You shouldn’t be so trusting. And you’re still an annoying brat.”
“Fuck you,” I bark at him. “Why are you driving to New York anyway? You seem to have plenty of money for a plane ticket,” I say, gesturing to his shiny black car.
“I need the time to reflect. Plus, she doesn’t do well on plane rides.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who?”
He walks around to the rear passenger door and opens it gently. Lying in the seat, dead asleep, is an old, gigantic black cat.
Excitedly, I reach out to pet it. “Oh my God! It’s so fucking cute!”
“Don’t touch her,” he reprimands me and slaps my hand away. “You’ll wake her up.”
“Sorry, but I love cats. I’m sure she’d love me.”
“She doesn’t like anyone.”
“She’s never met me, though. C’mon, please let me come with you. I promise I won’t get in your way.”
He shuts the car door and roughly pushes me away. I can tell he’s trying to intimidate me, but I can see right through him. He’s not actually going to hurt me, not on purpose anyway. “I just told you, no. You don’t need to go to New York. You need to go back home to your fucking family, little girl,” he grits through his teeth.
“I can’t go back home. Why the fuck do you think I’m out here in the first place? You think I like walking for hours in between the devil’s ass cheeks? Please, just let me come with you.”
“I could be an ax murderer for all you know.”
There it is again. “You’re definitely not an ax murderer.”
“You don’t know that for sure, though! Ax murderers never seem like ax murderers!”
“Well, do you want me to get picked up by an actual ax murderer, or would you rather take me there instead? I’m going to New York whether you take me or not.”
“You assume that I care about what happens to you.”
“Well, clearly you do at least a little, or you wouldn’t have said what you said about talking to strangers.”
He bites his cheek and clutches his keys tightly in his fist. His eyes soften just slightly, then he looks at me seriously, and I match his gaze.
Got him.
“What would you honestly do if you couldn’t make it to New York? Like, what’s your backup plan here?”
I shrug and cross my arms. “I’d probably just kill myself, to be honest.”
He looks at me with disgust for a moment before running his hand down his face in frustration. He takes a deep breath in and sighs.
“Jesus fucking Christ, fuck it. Get in the car.”