Road Trip

Olivia packed her bags as quietly as she could while she held back tears. She looked at the clock; 2:30 am on a Sunday morning. James' funeral was on Wednesday. If she left now, she might be able to make it down to North Carolina in time. James. The thought of him made her heart ache.
She had met James on a silly aim and fire game one night in January 2012. They had been talking ever since then, and had every intention of meeting up and spending the rest of their lives' together. She packed some gloves-- even though it was spring, it was still chilly in the mornings, and she had no idea how windy it might end up if she had to walk any long distances in between hitch-hikes. She finished by leaving a note for her mom and Dad saying not to look for her and that she might be back within the next couple of weeks.
She put her duffel bag over her shoulder, put on a coat, and began walking, tears streaking down her face.
She made it to the highway within an hour and started walking south, her thumb held out so drivers' by could see she planned on getting a ride. She walked for three hours; probably covering at least twenty five miles down the interstate. All the while, she thought about how she got to this point in her life. She was twenty two years old, a self harm "Survivor" like her parents called it, and also recovering from anorexia and bulimia.
That's when she remembered that she hadn't packed any food. She had brought a canteen with her and about a hundred bucks for emergencies. She brought her credit card, although she didn't want to use it because her parents would use it to find her. And she didn't want them to find her.
Her plan was simple; go and see James and say goodbye. Never come back. Never see another day. She didn't want to live through a world without her one and only. He was her Jimmy and she was his Livvy.
She is dragged back from her deep thoughts when a large tractor-trailer truck pulls over. A man with a scruffy beard smiles and opens the door of the passenger side for her and waves her on up.
"Where you headin'?" He asked her in a thick southern drawl; a toothpick hanging from his jaw.
"North Carolina." Olivia had to shout so he could hear her over the roar of the engine.
"Come on in, girl. I can bring you as far as Maryland, but then I gotta go out West," he tried to smile sweetly, but he was quite toothless and it just creeped her out. But she wasn't about to complain. This guy was helping her get to James. And that was okay.

They drove for hours, making very light conversation while Olivia tried to keep as much information confidential as possible. The driver made good time because it was just getting dark by the time they came to a stop at a trucking rest stop in Maryland.
"This is where I'm going to have to let you go, darlin'," said the truck driver with a wink. Olivia had learned that his name was Homer. She smiled pleasantly in thanks and then exited the truck, heading towards the building with a flickering "Restroom" sign. She shivered slightly. It was cold. She drank out of her canteen and then eyed the vending machine just a few yards away. It was slightly around the corner of the building, so she turned on her cell phone light after deleting the alerts saying she had new messages. She was thankful that she had disabled the GPS on her phone.
She looked at the contents of the machine and sighed. There was nothing she had the appetite for. She started to go back around the corner when BAM. She received a quick blow to the head. She tried to scream, but her voice was drowned out by a hand over her mouth. She kicked her attacker and bit his hand for him to let go, long enough for her to scream help, but her consciousness was quickly fading.
He violated her up against the wall, and felt a wetness on the back of her head. She was losing blood. She couldn't even recognize her attacker. She looked back and forth, her vision now so blurry from either tears or from blood loss.
"HEY! YOU LEAVE HER ALONE. BACK OFF." The voices were familiar, but she couldn't place it. She heard a shuffle of foot steps; a group of people had either come to make this worse for her, or to help. She hoped it was the latter. Everything went to black as she fell to the ground.