She looked around her. New Chain of Rocks Bridge was similar to most of the bridges she had crossed. Two lanes on either side, and all busy with traffic. This was the furthest that she’d ever driven, and she knew that she would have to get a map and start checking the route soon.
So far she had just been aiming, a rough direction, but a wrong turn now could set her off track for miles, and she didn’t have time to spare. She had to get there. And sooner rather than later.
Vengeance needed to be served.
The aspirin was wearing off again, her head continuing with its slow assault on her senses. She reached in the bag, ignoring the other bottles of medicine she had with her and grabbed the aspirin bottle for what felt like the millionth time. She shook out the last two tablets and swallowed them down, gagging as they stuck in her dry throat.
She should stop soon. Find a pharmacist and grab some more. And a map. She needed to plan the journey now. She hadn’t planned properly when she left.
Michael had told her to go, get out.
‘Get out! Run before it’s too late.’
He’d said she could have a head start. A nod at their long marriage, despite what she had done to him, to them, to their children.
That’s what he had said.
What he continued to say.
What the voices told her.
‘Run, run, they’ll catch you, but you owe them this before you’re caught. Prison is too good for you. You should have a greater punishment than that. You’re evil, Del. Now go and end it all.’
It didn’t make sense, not really, but she’d gone anyway. Swallowing down her horror and guilt. Taking the backpack that he’d handed to her at the door. Watching Michael’s face be swallowed into the night as she drove away from their once loving family home with tears burning down her face and grief strangling her.
Away from everything she knew and understood.
And a misery had settled in her gut, so quick and fast, so thick and heavy that nothing could stop the weight of dread that pressed upon her.
Quickly, go, he’d said. And Delores had gone.
For them.
For him.
Her hands were shaking, her chin trembling like she had a fever.
A longing had grown in her gut as she’d driven away. Reality mixing with her nightmares and she wasn’t sure where to go, or what to do. But Michael’s words had sung in her head constantly.
She’d driven aimlessly for hours, wondering where to go, until a memory had eventually come to her. A desire to see something beautiful before it was too late. The yearning had been almost as incessant as the voices in her head telling her she was evil, and so she’d followed them. Travelling where they told her to.
She took the next right and pulled off the main highway. Up ahead were signs for a gas station and restaurant, and Delores followed them, pulling into a bay to fill up. She topped up the tank and headed inside to pay, her purse swinging from her bony shoulder as she walked.
The gas station was large and busy. And bright. So bright her head spun and she felt the need to squint. People were bustling around, talking, yelling, bumping into one another. Delores didn’t like it. Her head was already hurting, and all this noise and commotion was making her feel worse. Too bright, she thought. It’s too bright.
She headed to the refrigerators at the back of the store, pulled out a couple of two litre water bottles, and then headed to the queue to pay.
She kept her eyes low and focused on the ground, not really watching where she was going, but arrived at the tail end of the queue with no problem. The water was heavy, and she struggled to switch arms.
A sharp bump in the lower back made her stumble forwards and drop one of the bottles. It split and water began to leak over the floor. Delores quickly bent to pick it back up, feeling hot embarrassment creep up her cheeks. She knew people were watching, staring, noticing her. She didn’t need to turn and look to know; she could feel their eyes on her. She didn’t like it one bit. She wanted to blend, not stand out. She didn’t want to be seen, not ever again.
“Oh, hell, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Not to worry,” Delores muttered and stood back up, holding the split plastic bottle upside down in front of her to stop any more water leaking out of the crack in the bottom. An employee came over and put out a little yellow sign to indicate the wet floor, beginning to mop up the mess with a tut and a grumble.
“I’m so sorry,” Delores mumbled as the employee took the damaged bottle from her with a scowl and wandered off. She flushed even redder and continued waiting, keeping a firmer grip on the now lone water bottle.
“I’m Mark,” the voice from behind spoke, accompanied with a tap on her shoulder. She didn’t respond. She didn’t want to make small talk; she didn’t want to talk to anyone. The person—Mark—was persistent though and tapped her shoulder once more. “Hey.”
