Hope
At first, I couldn’t distinguish the rumble, but then it came through me, louder, harder. Started in my hip. In my shoulder. Vibrated up the side of my leg and along my spine until my teeth were almost chattering. A car engine.
I vaulted off the darkened street, lurching to the side enough to be seen but not hit. I was waving frantically, even as every muscle in my body ached in protest. I wanted to sleep, but I needed to get out of here. Then, finally, I saw it in the distance: two yellow orbs. One wobbled slightly to the left. Headlights.
I was saved.
If I could have smiled, I would have. If I had anything left in me, I would have laughed. Instead I just stood there, spread-eagle, arms over my head, sucking in great lungfuls of air and letting the tears roll over my cheeks.
The headlights crept closer.
The vibration of the engine on the concrete tickled my bare feet, zoomed up my calves, and sent an electric, life-giving zing throughout my body.
Saved.
The driver saw me.
My whole body lightened.
The car began to slow, to veer to the side.
I used everything I had left inside to stumble ahead, to force my legs to move, to pump forward, jogging to meet the truck.
“Oh God, thank you so much! Oh my God, thank you!” I knew there was snot dribbling down my chin, but I didn’t care. I could barely see through the tears.
The automatic door locks clicked, and I got the door open, letting the warmth of the car’s interior wash over me.
“I need to get out of here! He’s still out there, and he’s after me and he’s—”
“Shh, shh now. Shh. You’re safe now, Hope.”
Daniel had my arm before I could respond, his fingers closing around my bare skin. I just stared at those carefully manicured fingernails gripping me, incredulous. He began to pull me into the cab.
“I’ll always find you, Hope. I’m always watching you, your friends.” He smiled. “It was meant to be.”
Blood pulsed through my veins and throbbed in my temples. I punched out with my free hand, twisting until I thought my arm might break. “Let me go, let me go!”
All at once, Daniel shoved the car into park and lurched halfway over the seat, grabbing me in a rib-crushing bear hug. I kicked out, feeling the flesh of my feet and toes dig into the asphalt, feeling tiny pieces of gravel ripping into my skin. My shin hit the side of the car. I twisted and flopped like a caught fish, clawing my fingers, digging at everything I could find: Daniel’s skin, his hair, the cheap vinyl dashboard.
“What are you doing? Stop that!”
I gripped at whatever I could, throwing handfuls of stuff out the open passenger-side door: a receipt, a water bottle, a chunk of my own hair.
If Daniel was going to remove me from this stupid spot on the road, I was going to make sure the police knew I had been there.
“Hope, stop!”
Fire raged through me. When Daniel moved to shove me into the seat, to restrain me or buckle me, or whatever he was trying to do, I freed my hand and went right to his hat, grabbing it and a handful of hair.
“What are you—”
I yanked.
I felt the sickening, satisfying tug of hair, then felt it break.
“Oooowwww!”
I tossed the hat through the open door, while Daniel’s hands pressed against his head. I was free again.
I was out of the car, on the ground, scrabbling through the litter of evidence I had managed to toss. But Daniel was on top of me. This time, there were no kind words. This time, there was no struggle.
There was a pinprick. Something at the base of my neck, and suddenly, my limbs were heavy, and I wasn’t sure if I was closing my eyes. I told myself, warned myself, begged myself not to close my eyes, but the blackness was closing in on me anyway. The last thing I saw was Daniel on his feet, but leaning over me, hands on his knees, his expression drawn, almost sad.
“It shouldn’t have had to be this way, Hope. I really, really didn’t want to do that.”
I wanted to respond, but my lips were swollen, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I felt like I was melting into the asphalt. I felt like I should say good-bye.
I felt like I was already dead.