Darkness.
Then pain—sharp, throbbing—radiating from my face, my skull.
Distant echoes of... screams? My body protested in a symphony of bruises and tension. I floated in an uncomfortable void, unsure where I ended and the Chevvie’s mangled seat began.
And there, in that drifting darkness, Clara appeared.
God, Clara was beautiful. Not in some obvious way, but in how light seemed to pour from her easy smile, her hazel eyes always hinting at some secret joke. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders like a dark waterfall.
We’d met in high school—her the unattainable queen bee, me the invisible drone orbiting her, waiting for a miracle.
A miracle—or, in retrospect, just plain bad luck—threw us together.
Seat neighbors. Lab partners. Field trip hostages. Hallway collision experts.—all orchestrated by some twisted cosmic scriptwriter.
So, what could possibly go wrong?
Yeah… She had a boyfriend, of course—a guy I only knew through her sighs and forced laughter. Someone I bitterly assumed, at the time, wasn’t just lucky—but an absolute asshole. Looking back, maybe he was just another fool caught in the same cosmic joke.
Then came the day I found her—red-eyed and shattered.
‘He cheated,’ she said.
I believed her. Shit, I didn’t even question it. She was Harley Quinn, and the other guy—her Joker.
Wait.. the psycho Harley Quinn? Maybe not my best analogy. But thinking of Clara again… not the worst.
After that, things just clicked with cruel logic. I was there. She needed a shoulder, an ear, a warm body to drown her sorrows.
Did she use me? Maybe.
Did I offer comfort while secretly hoping for more?
Probably.
Heck, our relationship—if you could even call it that—was born crooked, destined to fail. Still, it didn’t soften the sting when she left me for a guy with a shiny BMW—not a dying Chevette.
The bitter memory yanked me back to... wherever this was. Lilia and Erik. In my backseat. Kissing? The thought turned my stomach. They’d dared to do what I never had with Clara in this damn car.
Stranger still—I knew their names now. Lilia. Erik. No longer faceless kidnappers. Architects of this hell.
But again—was I alive? Or just stuck in some gas-stinking limbo?
I couldn’t die like this. What would Dad do?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Lose his only verbal sparring partner?
Mom… she’d left when I was four.
Her face was a smudge in my memory, pieced together from drunken stories Dad told. She’d shown up pregnant with another man’s child, and he’d let her go without a fight.
Every now and then, I thought about it. Somewhere out there, I had a sibling I’d never meet.
And sometimes, in dreams, Mom’s blurry face merged with Clara’s—a recurring nightmare.
“Time to let go. Grow up,” Dad once said with tired wisdom.
He’d known the score.
A sharp pain in my head snapped me to reality. My neck jerked sideways. What the hell—?
“Wake up, idiot!” A furious female voice.
Consciousness crashed back, but I kept my eyes shut. Fear paralyzed me. The shouts outside, metallic screeching, burning smell—it all returned.
“If you don’t open your fucking eyes now, I’ll rip your head off!”
Nothing motivates like death threats. I opened my eyes.
Lilia loomed over me, her face inches from mine, dark eyes blazing. Her hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me without mercy. For a fleeting second, I thought I should start wearing “Fragile” stickers like my delivery packages.
“I’m... awake...” I croaked.
“Anything broken?” she demanded.
Just my pride and the Chevvie, I wanted to say, but remembered my nose—her handiwork—still throbbing under dried blood.
“Fine,” I mumbled.
“Good,” she spat. “Because I’m going to break every bone in your body, you fucking coward. You nearly got us killed!”
“Easy, shortstack,” rumbled Marco’s voice from somewhere beyond my sight. He sounded... human again. I remembered the hulking beast he’d become.
I tried sitting up, twisting free of Lilia’s grip to look. Failed, but turned my head enough. There he stood on the dusty road—naked, massive, smeared with blackish gore that definitely wasn’t his. I looked away, shuddering, and met Lilia’s glare.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she hissed, slamming her fist against the Chevette’s ruined dashboard. “You try starting this junkheap. If it works, you live. If not… I deal with you myself. Got it?
Truth? I was done. Tired of threats, beatings, humiliation.
Fear had curdled into reckless rage.
I moved fast—grabbed Lilia’s neck, pulled her toward me, and kissed her.
I didn’t feel her tongue. Just the raw sound of our teeth clashing.
An intense cold ran down my spine, but the burning fire on her lips kept me going.
Stupid? Suicidal? Definitely. She froze—lips unresponsive, eyes wide. Shock? Disgust? I had no clue.
But I’d signed my death warrant. I closed my eyes, bracing for the bullet without letting her go.
Erik cursed. Marco laughed—a deep, raspy sound.
Seconds stretched into eternity. Then I shoved her with strength I didn’t know I had. She hit the dirt, ass-first, disbelief etched on her face.
I stumbled from the driver’s seat—or tried. The seatbelt yanked me back. Fumbling free, I stood. The world tilted. No more fucks left.
“Here’s what’s going to happen... you assholes,” I rasped, squinting at the dawn’s gray light. “I...”
Lilia’s voice cut through. She stood, dusting herself off. “Told you—touch me again, I blow your brains out.”
She drew her gun. Aimed. Fired.
The shot cracked the morning air. White-hot pain seared my cheek. Warmth trickled down my neck. Blood. My blood.
“What the f—”
A massive, blood-crusted hand clamped Lilia’s wrist, forcing her gun skyward. Marco.
The naked asshole had saved my life.
“No time,” he growled, eyes fixed on the road. “More coming.”
Lilia clicked her tongue but lowered the weapon. Erik cursed from the backseat. Marco shoved me into the driver’s seat, his grin feral.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he repeated, that inhuman smile stretching too wide. “Start. This. Thing.... or we all die.”
