Page 9 of The Devil's Weakness

The ride to Steve’s is silent until we’re just a couple of minutes away.

“Steve thinks it’s weird you’re going to Delaware, too,” Michael announces.

“And I think it’s weird that a thirty-two-year-old has such a hard time keeping a job and taking care of himself.”

That shuts him up, and I immediately feel like a bitch, but I don’t care.

“What the hell were you doing in Union Mills, anyway?” I demand. “How did you get all the way out here, and why couldn’t you find your way back?”

My anger is getting the best of me now, but he pushed me too far. Am I responsible for what happened to the driver? Yes. But was I the reason I was on that road in the first place? No.

Fuck you, Michael.

My blood is boiling.

“You’re not my mother. You don’t need to know.”

That’s it.?

I slam on my brakes and my tires screech across the asphalt. I’m too stressed out to deal with his shit right now. Michael looks at me from the passenger seat, shell-shocked, as though I just hit him.

“You’re right. I’m not your mother, but I’ve been the one taking care of you while you’ve done jack shit for the past ten years. You don’t want to tell me? Fine. You don’t want me to act like your mother? Fantastic, because I’m not doing it anymore. Get the fuck out. You can walk the rest of the way to Steve’s.”

“What?” he challenges, surprised by my outburst.

“You heard me. I’m done taking care of you, Michael. Find a job while I’m gone because when I get home, one of us is moving out, and you’ll have to take care of yourself from now on.”

Silently, I hope I’ll be able to come home soon.

“Sasha, I was joking with you,” he pleads with exasperation.

“No, you weren’t. And I’m not joking either. Get the fuck out of my car, Michael.”

The dejected look on his face tugs at my heartstrings slightly, but I can’t bring myself to change my mind. If nothing else, maybe my outburst will get him thinking about the type of person he should be. Perhaps it will motivate him to want to do better. Either way, I can’t stick around any longer. I need to leave town before the Devil’s Skull finds me.

* * *

I didn’t wantto drive east into Delaware in the event Michael tells anyone else where I’m supposedly heading. If the Devil’s Skull finds out, that will be the first place they look for me. So, as soon as Michael got out of my car, I made my way south to Route 70, then headed west.

This issonot the adventure that I wished for a couple of hours ago.

I’ve been on the road for nearly two hours when my gas light illuminates, so I get off at the next exit, Route 522. There is a gas station just ahead, and I stop to fill up and grab a snack. I look around before getting out, hesitant in unfamiliar territory. There are several people here. Some are filling up their cars, but others are just hanging out in the parking lot.

Isn’t there anything else they can do right now?

A group of boys younger than me size me up as I walk past them. Before I enter the store, one of them whistles, and his friend snickers at my discomfort. Walking through the door, I try to shake it off. I grab a drink from the cooler and stop in my tracks when I see the display of beer one aisle over.

Ah, West Virginia.

Where they sell beer at gas stations.

For a moment, I seriously consider trading my iced tea for a six-pack.?

No. I have to stay on my toes. I can’t afford to make any more stupid mistakes.

I grab a bag of Doritos as well, and get in line at the front of the store. While I’m waiting, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Suddenly, it feels like everyone is staring at me. Like they know what I did and that I’m trying to run away from my crimes. I need to play it cool, but I feel like a tweaker searching for my hit. I’m hoping my paranoia is working in overdrive, and my imagination is running wild.

When I get to the cashier, I place my things on the counter.

---