Stuck With Me
Stay
"So..." He was trying to make small talk. Staring out the window, I silently made a promise to myself not to talk or answer him, or if I absolutely had to, I'd do so very quickly. "Where were you heading?" I glanced over at him briefly, and I could tell he was uneasy about this whole picking-up-a-stranger thing. When he finally returned the gaze, I shrugged and then continued to look out the window. No interesting scenery was passing, and the darkness seemed to engulf the car. An almost deathly silence filled the air, and it made me wonder what would happen next. Where would he take me? Why did he insist that I come with him? Is he some kind of molestor? If he is, then how can I get away? I heaved a sigh and crossed my arms. After almost forgetting about Banana, I stole a look into the backseat. To tell you the truth, I'm glad that I found no dismembered body parts... like I kind of suspected. Just imagine being in the car of some stranger, looking back, and finding arms, legs, even heads, all bloody and chopped up in the backseat... Boy, the stains would be really hard to get out of his leather seats... I shuddered and tried to forget about it. I'd be scaring myself way out of my mind, and it's no use when stuck in a car with said stranger.
After a few minutes, he leaned over and turned on the radio. Instantly, Christie Road started to blare from the speakers, starlting a small yelp out of me. He turned it down and muttered, "Sorry, I forgot it was this loud."
"Sure." I mumbled. After only a few seconds of the song, the urge to sing along fought against my promise. 'Sing!' it shouted at me. 'Forget your promise, you love this song!'
'No, don't give him the satisfaction!' my better judgement retorted. The arguement was literally giving me a headache, and finally temptation won. By the time I was 'forced' to sing, Private Ale had begun. How did he know that Green Day was my favorite band? I'm not the biggest fan, I don't even really know what they look like, but I still love their music. Why would he have a Green Day CD in anyway? And another thing... Cars rarely ever have CD players! Practically only celebrities have them... but how would I know? All these questions prevented me from singing; there were too many questions swimming through my mind. Paying no attention to the road, I didn't realise where we were going or how far it was from the street we came from.
The next thing I knew, we pulled up in front of a small house, and not the fanciest kind either. The front yard was littered with trash, including mostly beer bottles, and the small bushes, which was pretty much the only landscaping the house had, were smashed and torn apart. The driveway that we had pulled into was cracked, oil stained, and had tire marks etched onto its surface. The house itself looked creepy, but somewhere that was liveable. Its paint was chipping away, and its windows were cracked. Some windows even had what seemed like bullet holes! The door was also a bit splintered, and the roof had missing tiles. The garage door was dented and graffitied, and the porch light that once lit the way was smashed.
"Welcome home..." BJ told me. When I gave him a panicked look, he quickly added, "I mean, my home."
"You brought me to your house?" I asked nervously.
"Well, technically it's... Michael's house." he said slowly. "I live here with him and... Frank." Again, it was another uncomfortable name. After taking off the sunglasses, he began to head up the walkway to the house.
"Alright, bye then." I called to him, and I started down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
"No! Wait!" He chased after me and grabbed onto my shoulders, pulling me back.
"Let go of me NOW, or I'm screaming bloody murder." I threatened in a cold tone. He did as he was told and his hands dropped to his sides.
"One, you can't leave without your guitar, and two, the entire purpose of me driving you here was to get you off the streets. Out where you were was actually safer than these streets, but in our house with three guys is way safer."
"Yeah, three strangers. If you're expecting me to stay the night, I'm going to say no, I mean, there's no way I'm going to sleep in the clutches of three guys that I don't even know." I rolled my eyes. "Where's my guitar?" I asked dumbly.
"It's still in the car."
"Of course it is." I replied. I trudged back to the car and roughly opened the door.
"Hey, hey, hey! Be careful, I just got it!" he warned. I sighed and rolled my eyes again. Pulling out Banana, I glared back at BJ.
"Thanks for the ride." I said sarcastically. "Seriously, I'm leaving." After slamming the door shut, I tried to walk away again, but just like before, he pulled me back.
"I don't want you to get hurt. Please, please stay here. Just for tonight. We can put you in the one room with the lock if it'll make you feel better. Please." he begged. As I noticed his green eyes for the first time, I picked up on the heavy traces of worry that lined his face and hid behind his eyes. "Please." he pleaded again.
After a few minutes, he leaned over and turned on the radio. Instantly, Christie Road started to blare from the speakers, starlting a small yelp out of me. He turned it down and muttered, "Sorry, I forgot it was this loud."
"Sure." I mumbled. After only a few seconds of the song, the urge to sing along fought against my promise. 'Sing!' it shouted at me. 'Forget your promise, you love this song!'
'No, don't give him the satisfaction!' my better judgement retorted. The arguement was literally giving me a headache, and finally temptation won. By the time I was 'forced' to sing, Private Ale had begun. How did he know that Green Day was my favorite band? I'm not the biggest fan, I don't even really know what they look like, but I still love their music. Why would he have a Green Day CD in anyway? And another thing... Cars rarely ever have CD players! Practically only celebrities have them... but how would I know? All these questions prevented me from singing; there were too many questions swimming through my mind. Paying no attention to the road, I didn't realise where we were going or how far it was from the street we came from.
The next thing I knew, we pulled up in front of a small house, and not the fanciest kind either. The front yard was littered with trash, including mostly beer bottles, and the small bushes, which was pretty much the only landscaping the house had, were smashed and torn apart. The driveway that we had pulled into was cracked, oil stained, and had tire marks etched onto its surface. The house itself looked creepy, but somewhere that was liveable. Its paint was chipping away, and its windows were cracked. Some windows even had what seemed like bullet holes! The door was also a bit splintered, and the roof had missing tiles. The garage door was dented and graffitied, and the porch light that once lit the way was smashed.
"Welcome home..." BJ told me. When I gave him a panicked look, he quickly added, "I mean, my home."
"You brought me to your house?" I asked nervously.
"Well, technically it's... Michael's house." he said slowly. "I live here with him and... Frank." Again, it was another uncomfortable name. After taking off the sunglasses, he began to head up the walkway to the house.
"Alright, bye then." I called to him, and I started down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
"No! Wait!" He chased after me and grabbed onto my shoulders, pulling me back.
"Let go of me NOW, or I'm screaming bloody murder." I threatened in a cold tone. He did as he was told and his hands dropped to his sides.
"One, you can't leave without your guitar, and two, the entire purpose of me driving you here was to get you off the streets. Out where you were was actually safer than these streets, but in our house with three guys is way safer."
"Yeah, three strangers. If you're expecting me to stay the night, I'm going to say no, I mean, there's no way I'm going to sleep in the clutches of three guys that I don't even know." I rolled my eyes. "Where's my guitar?" I asked dumbly.
"It's still in the car."
"Of course it is." I replied. I trudged back to the car and roughly opened the door.
"Hey, hey, hey! Be careful, I just got it!" he warned. I sighed and rolled my eyes again. Pulling out Banana, I glared back at BJ.
"Thanks for the ride." I said sarcastically. "Seriously, I'm leaving." After slamming the door shut, I tried to walk away again, but just like before, he pulled me back.
"I don't want you to get hurt. Please, please stay here. Just for tonight. We can put you in the one room with the lock if it'll make you feel better. Please." he begged. As I noticed his green eyes for the first time, I picked up on the heavy traces of worry that lined his face and hid behind his eyes. "Please." he pleaded again.