Lucy

It was cold out, unbelievably cold. I think it was below freezing, maybe even below zero. I don’t know. I just remember it being so cold. And I was driving. To where, I don’t remember; I don’t think I ever got there. But that’s not really the point of this story anyway. It had been dark, and darker than just an average night. Maybe there were a lot of clouds in the sky that night, or maybe it was just the way the fog started to thicken when the sun went down, I don’t know. It was dark and cold, but it was the greatest day of my life, for two hours at least. Then it turned into the worst.

I had turned off the highway and began to drive down a back road, somewhere in the country. There were no houses around, no buildings for miles. Just me, my truck, and the road beneath us. And I liked it like that. I loved being alone, and I guess that worked out well for me since I was alone most of the time anyway. I didn’t have friends, and I didn’t want them. Alone was easier. When you’re alone, you can’t get hurt.

And as cynical as that sounds, it’s true. I’ll prove it by the end of this story.

I didn’t know where I was driving, I had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way, and I was way off track of where I should have been. I remember roaming those back streets for hours trying to follow the poorly drawn and poorly accurate road signs back to civilization, but they really just sent me in big circles. And at first it angered me that I was just wasting time in those stupid back roads. But then I realized it didn’t matter. Wasting time was what I did for a living. I didn’t have a set home or job. I guess I was kind of a nomad; I didn’t like staying in once place for too long. I didn’t believe in loving something longer than you should, because the longer you love something, the less in love with it you are.

So I roamed around day after day, night after night, sometimes sleeping in motels, most of the time in my truck. I don’t really want to tell you what I had to do for money sometimes. I don’t really want to remember. I don’t think I ever killed anyone, but I did send a few people to the hospital. A lot of people from all over the country want me dead for some of these reasons; another excuse to not spend a lot of time in one place. So I didn’t.

I had finally broken myself free from the circle I seemed to be going in when I saw a sign directing me back towards the highway. I turned down the road, and sped along. It was a long narrow road, with huge unkempt grass clawing at the pavement on the sides. Still no signs of buildings or even other cars, but the traffic signs kept telling me this direction. And normally when I drive on long roads, I lose interest in the road and sightsee around me. But since it was so dark there was nothing to look at, so I kept my eyes ahead of me. But that was when after a few miles, I noticed something, or someone, moving on the side of the road. I slowed down a bit, my interest now caught in who could ever be out here on the coldest night of the year. As I approached, I saw that their arm was extended, and I think they were giving the hitchhiking thumb.

Now I had picked up my share of hitchhikers, and some were innocent and genuinely just needed a ride, and others, well others had other things in mind. But somehow, I had a feeling this one would be alright. They were wearing a really big flannel, but they themselves looked kind of tiny. They had their hood up, so I couldn’t get a good squint at their face. And I don’t know what it was in me that convinced me to stop next to them, but I’m glad it did.

I pulled over and came to a quiet stop beside where they were standing. They were on the passenger side of my truck, so I rolled down the side window and leaned over to speak loud enough so they’d hear me.

“Where you headed?” The hood was still up, and hair covered most of their face, but I could tell now that it was a girl. And she looked young, if not younger than me. Her head came up only slightly, and it might have been how cold it was outside, but her skin looked blotched on the side of her chin, almost bruised, but I tried not to notice.

“A city. Any city.” A cloud of quickly freezing air came out as she spoke; she spoke quietly, almost so quiet that I couldn’t hear her, but there was something off in her voice. Did it crack when she spoke?

I didn’t even know what state I was in, I think somewhere around Ohio, let alone where the closest city was. But something about this girl was off, and it bothered me. Something didn’t seem right, but being a total stranger I wasn’t about to ask. So instead, I took pity. She looked lost and helpless. I eyed her up and down, well as much of her as I could see anyway. She was squeezing her arms against her body, trying to hold every ounce of heat inside of her as she could. And she was tiny. Even through her flannel, now close up it was more obvious than anything that she was little. Her head was down again, blocking me from really being able to see her face.

“One city coming up. Hop in, quick. The heat’s getting out.” She didn’t waste a second letting herself in. I wondered how long she had been out there. It’s been below freezing for the past few hours.
I rolled up the window on her side, and I imagined she was grateful for that because she let out a muffled little sigh. She had her feet up on the seat with her, her knees bent and arms wrapped around them and her face sitting on top of them. Her fingers were hidden behind her sleeves, and her face still blocked off by her hair and hood. I considered moving her hair out of the way so I could see her face, but very quickly I realized how creepy that would have been.

And then I realized how long I had been staring at her without moving the truck. I quickly pulled my sight away and pulled back on the gear shift, and began to maneuver my way back onto the road.
Once I was driving again, I felt awkward. And I didn’t know why. I’ve driven multiple hitchhikers before, and I’ve never felt uncomfortable about it. I never felt the need to make conversation with them, in fact I normally didn’t like to talk to them. But with her, the silence was the loudest I’d ever heard it. I wanted to ask her what happened to her chin, where she wanted to go, why she was out on the side of the road on the coldest night of the year, I even wanted to ask her name, which I try to make a rule not to do when picking up strangers. She was just a girl. I’ve picked up girls before. Why did she feel different?

I stole a glance over at her; she was looking forward, her head still on her knees. I still couldn’t see her face, but I wanted to imagine it wasn’t nearly as pale and cold looking anymore. I hoped it wasn’t at least.

“So uh, can you tell me what state we’re in? Cause I actually don’t know. The last state sign I saw was South Dakota, but I’ve been driving for hours.” I gave a small chuckle at the end, trying to lighten the dense mood, but she didn’t even look over my way.

“Michigan.” She spoke hardly above a whisper.

“Never would have guessed that. Have a preference to what city?” She didn’t even speak, I simply heard her clothes rub against each other as she shook her head no.

Okay, so she didn’t want to talk. I could respect that. She probably had a long night, she sure looked like it at least. Still, I felt the unbearable urge to make conversation with her, but I decided to honor her silence instead, which for some reason was getting harder and harder to do by the minute.

I think a half hour went by, and I still hadn’t passed a city or town of any kind. Then again, I wasn’t looking very hard. I kept thinking of different things to say to her that would actually spark conversation, but all of them ended in my head with one word answers or her shaking her head. But then she made a movement beside me, the first she had made since getting the car. She reached up to her head and pulled her hood down, and wiped a lazy hand across her face, clearing her hair slightly. I dared our safety and looked over.

Yep. It was as bad as I had expected. She was pretty.

That explains why I felt awkward around her. I had picked up girls before, but none of them had ever been my cup of tea. And with her, well just feeling uncomfortable around her was enough to tell me she was a cup of something sweet.

She sighed slightly, and changed her positioning in the seat. Her knees finally came down and her feet were on the floor again, cracking slightly as they straightened out. She leaned back against the seat, resting her head on the window. I reached towards the heat to raise it slightly.

“Are you warm now?”

“Mhm.”

I was going to say something else, but I figured she wouldn’t answer, so I just went back to being quiet. And hating it.

A little ways along, maybe a few miles later, we came to a very old road. There were holes and potholes littering the entire road, and I had to slow down exceptionally. The truck bounced and shook as I went along, trying to easily and safely pass each bump and hole. When I thought I had reached the end of it, I began to pick up my speed again. However, apparently there had been one last hole, and it was a bigger one at that. And since it was so dark out, I didn’t see it until I was on top of it. As I ran over it, the right front wheel dipped down suddenly, and gave both me and the girl a jolt, but it happened to make her knock her head into the window. And it was a loud knock too.

I immediately looked over to her, who now had her head raised and her hand on the side that just got hit, and her face looked unhappy. And in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Christ, don’t you know how to drive?” I quickly turned towards her, partly confused and partly offended. This was the first full sentence she had spoken to me since getting in the truck, and it was an insult.

“Yeah, of course, but I couldn’t see the hole. I thought we were past all of them.” She crossed her arms and looked ahead. I noticed she hadn’t looked me straight in the eyes since we met.

“Yeah well that doesn’t make the new bump on my head any less there.”

I quickly started to get a little agitated. I had been nothing but nice to this girl, and now the first few times she actually talks to me, she has a deep set in attitude; she knows that hit to her head was a complete accident.

“Uh, you could be a little appreciative you know. If it wasn’t for me picking you up, you’d still be out in the freezing cold.” She snickered humorlessly.

“Oh wow, my hero,” she cooed sarcastically. “Jesus, you guys are all the same. You do one nice thing and think the world owes you everything it’s got. How about you just be a good person to be a good person? Ever thought of that?”

“Ever thought of not being a bitch to the person who just did you a huge favor?” My voice was getting louder as I grew more aggravated.

“Huge favor? Please. You’re just making my inevitable death a little slower.”

“I can speed it up if you want.”

Her head spun towards me quickly, and her eyes had a slight show of panic in them. Actually, more than just slight, there was fear in her eyes. But way more than my comment alone could have instilled. It must have been there this entire time. Was she scared of me and just lashing out to protect herself?

It was then I realized this was the first time she had looked at me, and it was because something I said scared her. Great.

However in that moment I did notice her eyes. They were green. And really pretty. Kind of like every other part of her face.

I focused myself back on the road and sighed. “Sorry. I’m not going to hurt you. And I’m sure as hell not going to kill you.”

She didn’t say anything; she just went back to staring out in front of her, but I could feel that she was on edge. I didn’t have many people skills, and the ones I did have were rusty, but I knew I had to say something. I had just threatened to kill her after all.

“Look, can we just kind of start over? I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not sure how much farther it is until the next city, and I’d much rather enjoy the uncomfortable silence rather than the angry tension. I’ll start. Hello, my name is Matthew, and I’ll be your hitchhiking cabbie today.” I looked over a bit expectant, but she didn’t say anything, and didn’t even react as if I hadn’t said anything. Her posture was enclosed in on herself, as if she wanted nothing to do with the world outside her little comfort zone. I gave a muffled sigh and focused on the road again. Fine, if she didn’t want to talk, we didn’t have to, but she could at least be civil about it.

I drove with one hand on the steering wheel, my other arm bent against the window and holding my head up. I don’t know why this bothered me so much; why she bothered me so much. Mostly, I don’t know why I wanted to just listen to her talk, about anything. I just wanted to watch her, even if she was just changing positions in her seat. Everything about her was so unique from everyone else I’d ever picked up. Maybe even everyone else I’d ever met.

I tried to think of other things, like where I even was anymore. I hadn’t paid attention to road signs, and I don’t think she was either. I could be out of Michigan now for all I know, but that didn’t really bother me that much. I was one of the only cars on the road anyway; it was the dead of the night. Which only lead my mind back to wondering what this girl could have possibly been doing out here in the- middle-of-nowhere-Michigan in the dead of the night on the coldest night of the year. I couldn’t exactly ask though. Once you threaten to kill someone you hardly know, all possibilities of asking personal questions kind of become unrealistic.

I mentally shook myself; there I was thinking about her again. She doesn’t want to talk to me; she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m just a ride. That’s how she sees it, that’s how I should too. However, it’s harder than it sounds to get someone off your mind when they’re sitting within arm’s reach.

I heard her reposition herself beside me, but I didn’t bother turning to look, though I wanted to. She folded her arms and then sighed heavily.

“Lucy.”

I turned my head towards her, though she wasn’t looking at me. “What?”

“My name; it’s Lucy.” I guessed she could feel me looking at her, because she turned her head towards me. I think my confusion spoke for itself. “You said your name, so I’m telling your mine. You do know how normal conversations work, right?” There was a twinge of attitude in her voice, but I was almost positive it was slightly playful too, or I hoped it was. I turned back towards the road, but it was far from where my attention was.

“Well you kind of threw me for a loop by, you know, not answering for a while.” She shrugged lazily in her seat.

“I was debating whether or not I wanted to tell you my name. But at this point, I’ve had too long of a day to care anymore.” This was probably my cue to ask what kind of day she had that led up to this point, but it still felt too soon.

“Must have been one hell of a day.”

“You got the hell part right.” It felt like she was leading me on, like she wanted me to ask what happened. But I still felt like I couldn’t just fully come out and ask it. I looked over at her, and as we drove by a streetlight, her face was illuminated for a brief moment. And while I wanted to have my attention on how pretty she looked in the light, something else caught my attention. Something big and concerning.

“Hey, uh is that a bruise on your chin?” Her eyes glanced towards me, and she reached her hand up to her chin and pressed on it, but only for a second before she tore it away and closed her eyes in what I imaged was pain.

“Apparently so. And I thought my face was the only part of me that didn’t hurt.” I couldn’t restrain myself anymore. It was like I was a child and she was an adult offering me candy. I can only say no up to a point.

“The only part that didn’t hurt? What happened to you?” I forced myself to look away from her and back on to the road, though it killed me to do so, because I knew she was looking at me now. I glanced over, I couldn’t risk staring again, and she was looking at me with a sullen, almost helpless face. Maybe she was contemplating whether or not she wanted to tell me. Suddenly I was contemplating whether or not I wanted to hear it.

She sighed and I felt her look away.

“Look, I know I’m a stranger and you don’t know me—”

“Please,” she cut me off. “The fact that you’re a stranger gives you a better chance that I actually would tell you.” She shuffled around in her seat, appearing suddenly uncomfortable. What happened to her was something she would never tell anyone close to her, which only means that what happened has to be pretty bad. “It’s just that I don’t know if I can actually say it. I don’t know if I’m safe.”

“Of course you’re safe.” She laughed, but I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just sarcastically.

“Wow Matty, you’re pretty funny,” she said through chuckles. Normally, I hated when people called me “Matty,” and I would have yelled at her and corrected her in a second, but I kind of liked hearing it in her voice. “I haven’t been safe in years.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are bad people in my life. People I’ve been trying to get away from for a long time.” Was that why she was out here in the middle of the night? Was she running away from something? Or someone? “He could have me bugged for all I know.” She spoke quiet, under her breath, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear if she was bugged. Or she didn’t want me to hear.

“He?”

Silence.

I kept looking over, but she looked long gone. Had I overstepped? She probably didn’t want me to hear, and probably hated me for questioning it. She was facing her passenger side window, so I couldn’t see her face. Great. I finally get her talking to me, and then I overstep my boundaries. Then again, she was leading me on as if she wanted me to ask. Any sane person would have asked way before I did. No, I won’t blame myself. It’s not my fault if she has issues.

Since she wouldn’t tell me, it only left my mind to wander. She let it slip that there was a man involved, someone she clearly didn’t like. And if she was worried he bugged her, then he must be controlling. Boyfriend? Father? Gang leader?

No, I couldn’t do this. Anything I thought up was probably far from the truth, and probably a lot worse. I’d rather save myself the heartache of imaginary scenarios.

She stirred next to me, and sighed heavily. I heard her head turn towards me.

“He, is the devil.” I quickly looked at her.

“Girl, what is with you and long dramatic pauses?” She scowled, but it didn’t last long.

“Do you want to hear it or not?” I was already much too intrigued to really say no, even if I didn’t want to. I’d rather know the real story than let my mind make it up for me.

“Yes, go on.” She crossed her arms sternly.

“No, never mind. You’re probably just going to say I’m crazy too.”

“Please, I really want to know.” I tried my best to sound sincere, and not make it seem like I was making fun of her further.

“Why do you even care so much?”

That was good question. A question I didn’t really know the answer to. I have picked up people before with huge bruises, cuts, scrapes. One guy even had a piece of glass stuck in his leg, and I didn’t bother with his back story. But, I had already let myself admit she was different. I guess this was just an extension of that.

I shrugged. “You intrigue me.” I looked over at her; to my surprise, she was looking right at me. I glanced at the darkened part of her face. “And that bruise on your chin ain’t no fall-down-the-stairs kind of booboo.”

Her sight stayed on me, as if I was still talking. Or as if she was still trying to comprehend what I had said. Her eyes looked really big. And bright green. And I needed to stop looking at them so much.

A tiny huff came out of her mouth. Slowly, she tore her vision from me with one long blink back in front of her.

“I loved him. I loved him a lot. We were together for five years, and things were really good for a long time. But then, last year, he started to mess around with stuff he shouldn’t have. Stuff that made me worry. He started drinking a lot, and he wasn’t himself much anymore. We started to fight a lot, but just with words; loud, razor sharp words. He’d call me a control freak and I’d call him a crazy son of a bitch. But I thought that’s all it would ever amount to. Just screaming; empty angry words. I never thought that he would…,” her words trailed off, disappearing into the empty space that filled between us. I had slowed the speed of the truck down immensely so I could focus on her rather than the road. Though, honestly, I hadn’t been focused on the road this entire time. Looking at her, I noticed her entire persona suddenly felt broken. She didn’t give off the same vibe as when she first entered the truck, or when she was angry with me. Then she was unreadable, and locked away. Now she felt vulnerable, and she looked afraid. “I thought he loved me.”

Her voice was innocent when she spoke. If she had spoken any louder, there might have been a break in her voice. She wasn’t saying anything, but I looked at her, and for the first time, I really examined her. Her hands and fingers were tiny and frail; her legs were thin and long. There hardly looked to be anything to her other than skin and bones. Every concealable part of her body was covered except for her head. My eyes traced her body back to that bruise on her chin. I wondered if there was an obvious bruise on her face, where else might they be hiding? All I could imagine in that moment was the rest of her body dyed black and blue. And it made me want to shudder.

“The first time,” she continued after a forceful breath, “I didn’t really react. There he was, the man I loved, the man that I thought I wanted to spend my life with, the man I thought would never hurt me, there he was with my blood on his knuckles. But I guess I decided that I loved him more than I was scared of him, so I stayed. And Jesus Christ I wish I hadn’t. I should have ran; I should have bolted and never ever even thought about looking back.” She paused for a moment, as if remembering something, then laughed lightly. It not only felt out of place, it also echoed a sense of self-loathing. “You know, I used to tell all my friends that if a guy ever hit me, I would walk out immediately; I wouldn’t be one of those stupid girls who just tries to reason that he hits me because I deserve it. I knew I didn’t. I knew I should have left. And now sitting here, I can’t think of one damn good reason why I stayed.” She chuckled, but it still lacked real humor. I heard the smile from the chuckle disappear when she spoke again. “About two months ago, I finally decided that enough was enough. I packed up my bag while he was at work, and I went to go stay at a friend’s.” She turned towards me, and I looked at her, not caring about the road at all anymore. “He didn’t like that idea.”

“So he did this to you?” I nodded with my head towards her bruise, though at this point she knew that I meant more than just one bruise. Her head shook slowly, her hair lightly hitting against her cheek.

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“When he found out I left, he was furious. He called me constantly for days, and left threatening voicemails on my phone saying he was going to kill me. I felt somewhat safe though, because he didn’t know where I was. And by then, I was a few states away. So I felt good. But I declared my safety too quickly.” She shuddered slightly, but I knew it wasn’t because of the cold. I instinctively turned the heat up anyway. “I have no idea how, but somehow he found me a month ago. He came to my friend’s house while I was alone, and started to beat me again. I think he knocked me out though, because I don’t remember much after that. My memory gets a little fuzzy around here, but he took me back to our old house, and told me that I belonged to him, and I was never allowed to leave.”

She grew quiet. All I could imagine was her getting beaten; the sound of her screams, the smack of his fist on her skin, the look of sheer pain and terror on her face. She was already so small, so fragile looking and I couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to hurt her. All I wanted to do was get her away from this guy. I didn’t care where we went, I’d drive her anywhere she wanted if it meant keeping her safe.

“For a few days, I considered surrendering, just giving up and letting him torture me for the rest of my life. For those few weeks I was back, God, it would have been better if he had just killed me.” She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. She spoke when she opened them again. “He tied me up in our basement. And he would use me…for his personal pleasure.” She gave me a look silently asking if I understood her innuendo, and I did. She turned to face forward again. “I felt like a piece of meat. I screamed, and he would just keep going. I tried to bite him, but he liked that. He would hit me if I got too loud. And then, once he finished, he would beat me all over again; saying it was my fault and I enticed him to fucking rape me.” She spit the words out with a painful fury.

There were a million things I could say to her. A majority of them circled around the idea of asking where this guy lived so I could rip him limb from limb, but I figured in this instance, that would only fuel her fire. And while she had every right and then some to want this man dead, I didn’t want to get her too worked up. From all the beating that she’s had, she could have serious internal damage. I didn’t want to risk getting her totally worked up and having something go wrong inside of her.

“But he was smart,” she continued. “He never hit me above the neck. I never had anyone ask if I was okay. I never had anyone ask if I was living with a psycho, because they couldn’t tell. But if they had just pulled up my sleeve, they would have seen everything.” Lucy gripped her arm through her flannel, and I silently wondered if it hurt her to touch herself. Or hurt her to walk, or sit, or do anything really. “Pull over.”

I spun my head sideways to look at her. She was staring straight ahead. “What?”

“I want to show you.”

I kept my gaze on her for a moment before looking away. I didn’t know if I wanted to see.

I hadn’t been paying attention to what road I was on. I hadn’t been since she got in the truck. I was on some sort of back road, it was long and dark, and only every once in a while did a car pass me. I started to wonder if this had been the same road I found her on. Did I go in a big circle?
I veered off to the right and slowed myself to a stop somewhere between the edge of the road and the grass. I pushed the gear shift into park, and for the first time I looked at her without worrying about crashing. And I took the chance to absorb everything about her.

She had leaf green eyes and really pale skin, which only made her eyes pop more. Her hair was brown, and with those eyes, it gave her a very earthy, natural look. She had thin lips and a faint line of freckles marching their way across the bridge of her nose. She was perfectly put together; everything about her was stunning. And yet, with so many features to notice on her face, my eyes kept going back to that bruise.

I looked down at her arms, which were still covered. Lucy’s arms were so thin, almost like they were just skin and bones. She held them out to me, and I looked up. Her face was sullen, but serious, and her eyes started to look glassy. I really hoped she didn’t start to cry, I wouldn’t know how to react.
She pushed her arms out to me again. “Go on.” I stared at her arms extended before me, and very gently I reached out to grab her hand; it felt so small in mine. Gingerly, I pulled back her left sleeve expecting to see something out of a horror movie, but the farther up I pulled her sleeve, the same thing I saw; nothing.

I looked between her arm and her face, my expression asking for an explanation. There were a few darker spots on her skin, but they didn’t look nearly as bad as what she was describing. My mouth hung open, my brain scavenging for the right words to say. Did she just make that entire story up? She couldn’t have; the way she talked about it felt too real, too raw. But that didn’t explain why I saw, or rather didn’t see, anything on her arms. Regardless, I didn’t want to upset her anymore, so I spoke hesitantly.

“Lucy, I don’t see anything…” My voice broke off into silence hoping she wouldn’t react badly. And she didn’t, she didn’t really react at all. She simply just stared at me however, before glancing between me and her arm.

“Yeah, I can’t see them well in the dark either.”

She quickly reached up over her head to turn on the trucks light, and a sudden light washed over the two of us. As soon as I looked back down, suddenly her little hand in mine weighed about a million times heavier. Her sleeve was rolled back to her elbow, and in the area of skin exposed to me, now flooded over with light, her bruises almost looked pretty they were so big and colorful. The darker spots I saw before were the blackest parts, and around them colors ranged from purple, blue, and red. It almost looked painted on, unreal.

I grabbed her other arm, and pulled up her flannel to her elbow, and it was the same story, just a different pattern. This arm had a huge blackened bruise on the side of her forearm, with baby bruises surrounding it. I extended a finger to it, tracing the outline of it on her skin. I looked at her eyes, a panicked look on my face I’m sure, but she remained sullen, calm almost. She tore her arms and hands away from me, and gradually began to unbutton the top of her flannel; exposing her upper chest more and more after each button came loose.

From her collar bone down, she was like a painting. Her skin was a canvas for the most tormenting art, and it nearly brought me physical pain to just look at what she had to go through. But not only was she painted, she was carved. Just above her breast, there was deep cut that looked unhealthily scarred over. And this probably concerned me most of all, because it was extremely close to where her heart was.

I wasn’t the kind of guy who had never been exposed to violence before. I had been in fights, I’ve gotten some bruises and scrapes similar to hers, and I’ve given them out too. I’ve seen people get into car accidents, mugged; I even saw a guy die in front of me. All of which I had the same reaction to, that stereotypical brand of aw-ain’t-that-a-shame sadness. But now, looking at Lucy, that wasn’t even close to what I felt.

Looking at her right now, she was so beautiful but so evidently broken, even beyond the physical wounds. That was a kind of pain I wasn’t used to seeing, and every fiber inside of me just wanted to help her, and take her somewhere safe where no one would ever lay a hand on her again.

“Lucy, I’m so sor—”

“Oh no, no. Do me a favor and save your sorry’s for someone who wants them.” She pulled her sleeves back down and started to do her flannel back up. “Sorry is only good for people who pity themselves. I don’t. I brought all this on myself.” She reached up again and punched the light back out; the two of us were suddenly engulfed in the shadows again. And even though I couldn’t see her face as well anymore, I’m pretty sure she could still see the confusion on mine.

“What? How the hell did you bring this on yourself?” She crossed her arms and shrugged, as if she were answering any other normal question.

“I stayed with him. If I had just left after the first time he hit me, maybe I wouldn’t be halfway dead right now.”

I had to take a moment to figure out what I was going to say, because the first thing that came to my mind was to call her an idiot.

I repositioned myself to face her better, and even though it was dreadfully dark, I could still see her eyes perfectly. I took a moment to appreciate that.

“Lucy, this is by no means your fault. You didn’t bring this on yourself. Just because you stayed with him doesn’t mean he has the right to beat the shit out of you.” She looked at me with a hard expression, as if she knew I was right but didn’t have the will to believe it anymore.

“Look, you don’t know him and you don’t know me, so your opinion really doesn’t matter.” She turned away from me and looked out the window into the blackness of the field beyond. Maybe I should have dropped the conversation there, just driven her to a city and told her good luck, but I couldn’t.

She said that she wasn’t one of those girls to believe she gets beat because she deserves it, and maybe she didn’t for a long time, but it was evident that she did now. Lucy was probably a very strong-willed girl before she got involved with this guy, or at least she seems like she would be. But looking at her now, all I saw was a broken little girl, who thinks it’s easier to believe that she deserves the abuse she gets than to believe that this guy does it for no reason.

And that’s when I made the connection.

“You’re running from this guy right now aren’t you?” She didn’t react to my question; she just kept staring out the window. I could see half of her face in the reflection of the window, and there was no readable emotion on her face, and I felt so sorry for her, that she had to live this way.

But then something inside of me suddenly got angry. It was evident in her personality that before all of this abuse and torture, Lucy was a strong bright girl. She probably had hopes and dreams and she just wanted someone to love her, someone to love, maybe she even wanted a family. But all those aspirations have since died and I can see it in her eyes, I can see it in the way she speaks and the way she moves. This guy has killed her in every way except the physical. She doesn’t think she’s worth anything anymore, she believes she deserves the abuse. And a burning anger rushed through me at the thought of that. I’m generally a gentle laid back guy, but never in my life have I had such a desire to snap someone’s neck like I did about Lucy’s abuser.

“You need to tell me where he lives.” She spun to face me automatically, an expression that spoke confusion and if I guessed right, worry.

“Why?”

“You shouldn’t have to be the one that’s running away. If this guy is making your life hell, then I think he’s the one that needs to go.” She shook her head slowly.

“You’ll be no match for him. He’s huge and he’s strong.”

“And I’m small and quick. Lucy, don’t you see something wrong with this whole situation? From what you told me, he’s going to keep chasing you down every time you run somewhere. So your plan is to just keep running from city to city for the rest of your life? Wouldn’t you be happier if he was just locked away and then you could go on living a normal life? If I hadn’t of picked you up, don’t you think he would have found you?”

“Of course he would have found me, he put me there!” She yelled at me with a sudden anger I didn’t see boiling in her eyes before. “You know Matt, you think you have me all figured out and you don’t. It’s not all hell with him. We do have good days. Sometimes things just get out of hand and I need to go away for a while.”

“Until he comes and finds you and beats you again.”

“Would you just shut up? You don’t know anything about him!” I could feel my blood pressure rising, and my voice followed.

“You’re right, I don’t know him, I only know what you told me. And you told me he beats you and rapes you, which I think is enough information for me to have a pretty good idea of what this guy is like. I don’t care what he does or says when you catch him in a good mood, anyone can say they love you. What I care about is the fact that you look like a piece of bruised meat, like you were mistaken for his punching bag.”

Her eyes were wide, but I couldn’t tell if what I was saying was really sinking in or not. She’s been so twisted through this whole experience, and all I want to do is try to untwist her, but I can’t do anything unless she lets me help her. I took a deep breath and lower my voice again.

“Look, I know I’ve only known you for the past two hours but for whatever reason, I really care about you. And honestly dropping you off somewhere while that maniac is still out there makes me really uneasy. I want to help you, but you have to let me.”

Her eyes softened, as if she finally realized my words were genuine. She looked down, and I guessed she was thinking of what to say because she was quite for a good few minutes. And in the silence, something occurred to me.

“Wait a minute; you said before that he was the one that dropped you on that road? Why?” She was silent still, but with a short breath and a long sigh, she answered.

“I didn’t know where we were going. He forced me in his car. It was around sundown, and he took me out to that abandoned road. He pushed me into the backseat and had his few rounds of fun with me. But I didn’t want it, so eventually I slapped him. He didn’t like that. So he pushed me out of the car, before I could even get all my clothes back on—hence why I’m only in a flannel—and left me there. He said if I wasn’t right there waiting for him when he gets back, he’ll kill me.” She looked up at me with tears on the edge of her eyes; she extended a hand and placed it on my arm. “That’s why I can’t go back. Even if you wanted to help me, even if he were sent to jail, even if you killed him, I can’t go back. He has followers that would finish his dirty work and kill me, and then kill you. I’m not going to put your life in danger too.”

I placed my hand on top of hers on my arm. “And I’m not going to let you live like this. I’m not taking you to a city. I’m going to take you somewhere safe, and then I’m going to go off and look for this guy of yours. I’ll kill him and all of his men if I have to. I don’t care if I go to jail. If you’re safe, then my ploys weren’t in vain. I just need you to tell me where I can find him.”

She was crying now, tears gradually trickling down her cheeks. I reached forward and wiped away a trail of water, letting myself caress her face slightly as I did so. She shook her head slowly in my hand as her tears continued, and even sped up.

“I won’t let you be my fault.”

Before I could even comprehend what was going on, I felt the blast of cold air hit me in the face, followed by my hands being empty. The passenger side door hung open, and Lucy ran for the field of grass just beyond the road’s edge. I screamed her name, though I knew she wouldn’t turn around. I quickly got out of the truck and started to run after her just as the field swallowed her up. And I followed after her but the blackness of the night and the thickness of the field turned my odds of finding her against me quick.

I called her name, I screamed her name. I ran all over the field, trying to check every inch of it. I didn’t even care about the cold biting against my skin or the cuts I’d obtained from running through the grass. All I cared about was finding her. I don’t know what time it was, but it was late. And I ran around that field until sunrise, and I never found her.

I didn’t want to stop looking though. All that was on my mind was finding her and taking her somewhere safe, taking her with me, but my body grew weary and my eyes heavy. It only then occurred to me that I hadn’t slept in 24 hours, and I knew I needed rest or else I would collapse here in the field. I stood there in the field, breathing so hard that I had my own personal cloud of hot air floating in front of my mouth, and I knew it was time. I had searched all night and saw no sign of her. I searched all morning and still not a trace. I had to accept it; Lucy was gone.

I wandered back to my truck, trudging along, each step I took feeling heavier and heavier. Once it and the road again were in view, I walked up to it and climbed in. I looked at the passenger seat and tried to imagine Lucy sitting there again. I tried to imagine how pretty she would have looked with the sunrise right behind her. But nothing I imagined made me feel any better. I couldn’t figure anything could. I’d never see her again.

And I never did.

A few weeks later I rented a motel for the night in a city near where I had found Lucy. It didn’t have much, but it was nice having a bed and a TV again for a night. In the weeks that followed her disappearance, I had tried so hard to just move on with my life, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to. But at least I could hope the best for her, and hope that maybe she ran away and she was safe somewhere. I didn’t have many hopes in life, but that was the biggest one to me.

As I got myself comfortable in the motel that night, I decided to turn on the TV. I flipped around stations, but ultimately I ended up on a news channel. It was all boring stuff about taxes and political scandals, and I was about to turn the entire TV off, when the news anchor mentioned something about a girl gone missing. I listened attentively as the anchor explained to me that a girl’s dead body had been found off the side of an abandoned road. The girl had no ID on her, and was beaten so badly that he face could not be recognized. As I listened I felt my heart begin to drop and recede inside of me, and I had the unbelievable urge to cry, but I held it off as I hoped that it wasn’t her, it couldn’t have been her. It was then that the news showed an image of the road where the girl’s body was found, and I fell to my knees. It was the same road I had been on, the same road that Lucy ran out on. In a fit of anger and devastation, I ran to and picked up the TV and smashed it on the ground, as I then fell to the ground myself. I cried, and I cried so hard that I don’t remember falling asleep that night. I only remember screaming her name. That was the night I realized that it’s better to be alone. No one can hurt you, no one can leave you, and no one you care about will die.

I haven’t picked up hitchhikers since.