Page 32 of About the Green

But as I wiggle my way through the narrow opening of the back seat as quietly as I can, because I don't want to alert him to what I'm actually doing, I have to take a long, long sigh.

I would maybe think it's sweet that he cares about me if he did not fucking tackle me in a fucking alleyway and duct tape me in his trunk.

But now I've got to get out of here.

And you know what would really heal me? What would really heal me is a super big strawberry milkshake. Not only a strawberry milkshake, but a strawberry milkshake that has sprinkles and the little bitty chocolate chips inside.

Oh my god, it's gotta have a high, high pile of whipped cream on it now.

And you know what? I'm going to need to drink it through a cookie straw.

That's it. He's forced my fucking hand.

So, as I try for the back door I see that the child safety locks are on, because of course they are. He's a fucking dad. I realize I'm going to have to go through the front seat, which I don't want to do, but here I am.

As quickly as possible, I scramble into the front.

“Hey, what are you—” he says before I elbow him right in the face, my elbow smashing into his nose.

He wasn't even ready for it.

Men.

Can't live with them, can’t live without them.

But for now, I hope that I'm living without this one.

As he tries to hold his nose, that's already gushing blood, I take the opportunity of his stunned reaction to slow the vehicle down, to tuck and roll out of the car.

Anything is better than this. Absolutely anything.

And though I love this outfit to bits, I refuse to be in this car with him any longer.

I hit the ground hard, thankfully the long sleeves of my outfit protecting me from most of the road burn. My exposed side from my crop tee takes the majority of the damage. I take a second to assess whether or not I've injured anything further.

It doesn't feel like I have any broken bones, so I get up, not bothering to dust myself off, since there's already so much mud and dirt on me. Rubbing the open wound will only make it worse.

This part of town has several shopping centers not too far from here, and thankfully I'm more familiar with Atlanta than Louisiana.

I could easily get away from this man.

My bag survived with minimal injury, but it's no longer as fuzzy and pink as I'd like. It's a little more like a wet dog after you've taken it to the dog park and found a puddle, but that's fine. I still have all of my things safely inside.

I grab my phone and get onto my rideshare app, knowing exactly where I'm headed.

Anywhere is better than here.

Chapter 13

I don’t struggle or make a scene when he comes to collect me from my favorite diner. It was my fault for blabbering to him about what it was. I didn’t think he’d remember though. I had no idea that this would be his first time experiencing a place that had brought me so much solace over the years.

Muddy, scraped up and raw, I still feel at home on the plush bar stool at the counter. No one would have anything to say but it’s raining out so the explanation forms itself.

Likely thinking I simply fell and not that I escaped from a moving vehicle all because I didn’t want to talk about what was under my bandaid.

I’m gonna need a lot more of them.

He’s silent but his expression says too much as he sits on the stool beside me. He's cleaned up his face from the blood and must have changed his shirt. I'm upset there is no bruising for my hit though the swelling is satisfying.