Hitchhiker

I was very relaxed, which was normal for a Tuesday night like this, but I didn’t allow this to show on my face. In my torn tights, short dress, and smeared lipstick, I looked a poor sight. I supposed that I was a rather poor person, though I’d never seen myself as such. The very people I hitchhiked for always picked me up. I considered myself a lucky girl.

Tonight, I held my heels, my two fingers hooked in the back of the blood-red heels I’d worn. My tights offered little protection from the road, near empty aside from a few lights dotted here and there along the road, but that hardly bothered me. Ever since I was a child, I’d been walking on still-warm pavement. It had been training for something I never thought I’d do.

A light spotlighted me, the third of the night. I turned, hopeful, only for a smile to break out onto my face when I saw the long-bed truck with the man in the driver’s seat. My face twitched at the sight of the girl in the passenger seat, but I took what I could. I stuck out my thumb, mouth turned into a moue that I knew looked charming.

The man’s mouth turned up at the corner. He turned on his hazards, pulling over to me so the girl was nearest me. Up close, I could tell they were dating, and not very good about it, too. Bruises lined her face, her eye nearly swollen shut. She covered her skin in a long sweatshirt, despite the hundred-degree weather, and sweatpants. She was abused. Despite the bruises, she had a nice-looking face.

“Where you going, sweetheart?” the man questioned, grinning in what I’m sure he thought a charming way.

“I’m runnin’,” I replied, my drawl western to his southern. “I don’t wanna be here, anymore.”

“We’re headed to the town over, if you’re interested,” he simpered, trying to appear kind. His girlfriend, winced, already unbuckling her seatbelt.

“I’m interested,” I chirped. “Can I sit in the back, please? I ain’t used to front seats, I’ll get car sick.”

“‘Course, Darling,” he agreed, which I grinned at. “Hope into the back. Get out for her, Char.”

Char, the girl, quietly got out. She shifted the seat forward, her eyes focused on the skin visible through my tights. I saw her nostrils flare as I passed, scenting my perfume, but she controlled her reaction. So, I thought, he beats her for likin’ girls. What a hypocrite.

“Thanks,” I whispered, so he wouldn’t hear, and she flushed pink and scrambled in.

The ride was silent, but only for a while. Soon, the man was talking up a storm, myself and his girl nodding along allowingly. At one point, he forgot I was here, and slapped Char. He apologized, acting as though it had been a light tap, but the tears in Char’s eyes told a different story. My smile was hard to hide.

Luckily, a deer passed in front of us. He slammed on the breaks, sending me flying forward, and his girl into the windshield. Her seatbelt was jinxed. My knife split his jugular in seconds.

It only took me wrapping my arms around his seat and drawing the knife for the car to stop and his blood to paint the windows red. I giggled, Char’s light skin painted with the same substance. Char, somehow, laughed. We pushed him out of the car.

“You’re a real sweetheart,” I thanked her.

“I’ve got a house in New York,” she whispered. “Out in the country.

I smiled. She returned it. I pecked her on the lips, my darling Char who worked with me so well.

“Let’s go, then,” I huffed, laughing.

So, we went.