Page 82 of Submitting to Them
“You probably have all kinds of questions,” he says, voice gloating.“All I had to do to spoof my dad’s number was a quick Google search and test it out with a second burner phone.Easy as fucking pie.”
“I honestly don’t care.”I stare out the window at the passing landscape.Rock formations, Joshua trees.As the sun rises farther, I can make out the occasional wildflower.And of course, the ever-present litter.Why can nothing ever be completely beautiful?The futility of it causes tears to prick my eyes.
He’s going to take me somewhere and kill me.There’s no way I can get into Mexico with him.He’s got to know that.
I’m too scared to ask.My gut twists with anxiety.
“Come on, what else do you want to know?”he asks.
Are you going to kill me?But I don’t ask it.Instead, I say, “Why were you watching me?”
“Watching you?”
“You had cameras set up in my apartment.”
He shrugs.“I was looking to get some dirt on my dad.His place was too hard to set up.Yours was easy enough.”
“Did you steal my keyboard, too?”
He laughs like I’ve told the funniest joke he ever heard.“What would I want with your shitty keyboard?”
“I—you mentioned you saw it in my apartment.”
“Saw it, but that’s the end of it.I was more focused on whether or not my fucking father or Sebastian were coming in to fuck you.”
If he didn’t take it, that means Tommy did, and my heart breaks all over again.I’d feared it from the start, but when Joel mentioned the keyboard a couple of weeks ago, I thought, maybe, it had been him instead.
“I did see footage of some rough-looking guys come in and take it.”
This sparks my curiosity, although it’s hard to find it in me to truly care.The keyboard’s gone.Nothing I learn about its theft is going to bring it back—especially if Tommy’s “acquaintances” are the ones who took it.Rough-looking guyscould be anyone, but Tommy’s the only other person who knew about the keyboard.
“Any other questions?”he asks.“I’m an open book.”
“Can you let me out here?”I say.“I won’t even say anything to anyone.I won’t even tell them about Mexico or anything, I swear.”
“I don’t know what my dad sees in you,” he says, shaking his head.“You’re fucking ugly when you beg.”
“Well, you’re fucking ugly all the time,” I say.I don’t know why I’m trying to push his buttons.Am I being childish?Or am I hoping to force him to snap?What happens when he does?He could kill me…or he could make a mistake.
He grits his teeth and his hands clench on the wheel.I’m tempted to grab it and yank, pull the car right off the road.But I’m afraid of what he’s going to do if that happens.He might just shoot me and be done with me.
Another hour passes.He doesn’t ask if I have any more questions.I have a million, but I won’t like the answers.
We’re still not seeing many cars, but one appears in the side mirror, approaching from behind.I flick my gaze over to Joel, wondering if the other car will pass us, and whether I can risk a signal to the other driver.The chances of them even looking into our car and seeing me are slim.
They’re catching up with us, though.On this flat, straight road, there’s no doubt in my mind that they’re going to pull up alongside us.
Joel still doesn’t seem to notice the other car, which pulls out of its own lane to pass us.Instead, he starts rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly.He’s probably coming down from whatever high that pill gave him.He digs around in his pocket but his hand comes back empty.
“Running low on uppers?”I ask.“What, did your mommy not give you enough?”
“Fuck!”he yells, pounding the steering wheel.
Our car swerves, nearly crashing into the other one that’s passing us.I start to lift my hand to wave at them for help, but Joel sees me and smacks my arm down.
“Fuck you, bitch!”He lifts his hand, and I flinch, but he just points at me.“You’re driving, now.”
He pulls over, climbs out and gestures for me to exit, as well.I have to go out his door because mine doesn’t work.I take as long as I possibly can to get out of the car, hoping someone will come by on this mostly-deserted road.
