“Just jolly old Saint Nick, aren’t ya?”
My face twists with a wry smile, but it stems from the pain in my side, not actual annoyance. I could have made a break for it and I honestly don’t think Grave would have stopped me. But with the state that I’m in, I doubt I would have made it more than a few miles before my father woke up. Besides, how the hell was I supposed to fight someone off like this while trying to sleep in some back alley? Supposed to find anything to eat beyond dumpsters?
I might come to regret this, but despite the fact he’s clearly caught up with some shady people, I have a better feeling about Grave than I do the cocky asshole that offered me a ride yesterday, as fucked up as that is. And maybe that’s it; the man that haunts my days and nights was a blubbering mess in front of him, and that sort of power is intoxicating to be around. Grave toyed with my father like he was nothing, and as much as that should make me terrified of what he’s capable of, I’m just… not.
Monsters come in all shapes and forms, but just because you’re dangerous, doesn’t mean you’re evil.
“That’s me, the gift that keeps on giving.” Opening the center console, he starts leafing through, tossing shit around the car and muttering to himself. Reaching over my lap, he gives the glove box the same treatment. Slapping it shut with a curse, he raises a finger like he had a sudden epiphany and I find myself watching him with curious fascination.
Pushing the button for the small sunglass compartment between the sun visors, it pops down and he retrieves a candy bar with a satisfied grin. “Here. I’ll try to speed this stop along, but this should tide you over while I’m gone.”
He drops it into my hand and I tilt my head to the side. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to accept candy from strangers.”
Flipping me off, he starts climbing out of the SUV. “That’s only when they’re trying to lure you into the van. You’re already in, so consider it a reward for bad behavior. Back in ten.” After the door shuts behind him, I smile for the first time in so long.
Unwrapping it, I start eating. My aching stomach growls in response, reminding me of how hungry I am as the scent of chocolate hits me. It had already been a couple of days before I gathered enough money for the store yesterday, and I never got the chance to eat before shit hit the fan. I’ve gotten used to it over the past year while things have continued to grow steadily worse and worse, but I hate that I’ve had to adapt.
I knew he had to be blowing the money somewhere, but I didn’t even realize there was anywhere nearby for him to lose so much. Those nights that he’d disappear, he might come back an hour later, or the next morning, but I just assumed he was drinking with friends and playing cards or something.
Resting my aching face against the cool glass, I watch as someone opens the door, only to try and slam it back in Grave’s face. He breezes in like he owns the place, kicking the door closed behind him. The snack is gone far too quickly despite my best efforts to savor it, and I tuck the wrapper into my bag. Though he seemed to not give a damn as he threw things all over his car searching for it, it feels insulting to toss my trash on the floor.
A single gunshot rings out and I startle in my seat. Tensing, I wait for the next one, assuming that this scene will play out similar to the one at my house. But it never comes, and Grave walks out of the house a few minutes later, pulling the door shut behind him. Hands tucked in his pockets as he descends the stairs, his lips softly murmur, like he’s either talking to himself, or there’s a song stuck in his head.
Just lost in his own little world as he tears others’ apart.
He drops back into the driver’s seat, giving me a once over. “You’re still here.”
Confused, my face scrunches up. “You told me to wait.”
Tongue in cheek, he just continues to stare at me. “I left the keys in the ignition. You could have taken the car and gotten the hell out of this mess.”
Not realizing it was some sort of test, I shrug a single shoulder, instantly regretting it with a wince. “I’m in a mess whether I run or not. My father will hunt me down for not getting him out of his debt and embarrassing him, make everything up till now look like child’s play. I’m not about to add having someone like you on my tail out for revenge, too.”
“Someone like me?” He rests an elbow on the steering wheel; not angry, simply curious.
“Someone that looks at murder as an inconvenience, because you’d rather play.”
He’s quiet for so long that I worry I went too far. But there’s just something about this man that makes the comments I’d normally bite back slip out, the dangerous air beckoning instead of warning.
A grin slowly lights up his face as he turns in his seat, getting us back on the road. I glance around, but the surrounding properties appear abandoned, and he clearly doesn’t seem concerned about someone calling the police about the gunshot.
“Why’d I only fire one shot?” he asks out of the blue, neither confirming nor denying my statement.
Realizing he wasn’t toying with this guy like my father, I could assume that it was because we were closer to the city and he was trying to be more discreet. It’s easier to torture someone in the middle of the day when their screams and several gun shots will go ignored, miles between farms. But the fact that he asked makes me try to see it from a different perspective.
“You weren’t concerned about getting caught, so were you worried I was actually going to steal your car and tried to hurry up?”
Pulling into a gas station without answering, he parks at the pump, heading inside to pay and leaving me to stew on my thoughts. He returns with a bag, flipping the trigger lock on the pump nozzle to automatically fill before leaning in through his open window. Extending the bag towards me, I take it, glancing inside. It looks like a teenager was set loose with fifty bucks before a road trip, enough sugar in here to make someone’s teeth fall out.
He gestures with his hand, encouraging me to help myself. “You look like hell; didn’t want you keeling over while I was busy working. I can’t cook for shit, but this should help tide you over until we get home.”
I simply blink, rendered speechless.
“Consider it a gift from stabby old Saint Nick,” he teases with a wink. “Not going to add it to your tab or anything, so just eat, ‘kay?”
Biting my lip to keep my eyes from watering, I nod quickly, not trusting myself to even utter a thanks without it coming out as a croak. He turns away to remove the nozzle, putting the gas cap back in place while I open a soda, wetting my throat before he climbs back in the car. Pulling back onto the road, he simply flips on the radio, refusing to let it fall into awkward silence while still giving me time to wrap my head around everything.
* * *
