Write With Me #4 – Run Away With Me
The yellow lines on the highway sped by in a blur, and we flew through the night, and we felt free. But we weren’t, and we knew it. We were running away from something, and running away was never the path to freedom. I thought about telling John to turn back. I thought about suggesting we call the police from the truck stop, but I decided against it. What we had done wasn’t wrong. It was self-defence…of a sort. A preemptive strike maybe. Perhaps self-offence might be a better term. He was going to expose us.
John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel. He hasn’t spoken. He’s normally so lively, but then whatever happened back there would be enough to silence anyone.
“Are you okay?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, just nods. It’s the first time I’ve spoken in an hour. My voice rasps.
“We should…” I trail off, not knowing what we should do next.
A siren wails in the background. I feel my whole body seize with worry. Both our eyes flick to the rear-view mirror. But it’s clear. There’s no police in pursuit.
“It’s ok, you know…” I tell him. “We did what we had to do.”
“I did it,” he replies. “I did all the work.”
“I helped you hide it,” I retort.
My hands feel heavy, suddenly weighed down by the bulk of death, like carrying him all over again. I imagine there’s blood on my sock, so I pull down my jeans leg to cover it, though it could just be the pattern.
“I’ve been thinking…” he begins. “About what you said.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes, you did. You said he knew about our plan. But he couldn’t have. There’s no way he could have known…unless you told him.”
“And what? I set that up so you would kill him?” I scoff. “I’m not that clever.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I reach down, wrapping my fingers around the knife in my boot. “Well, we can’t have you worried. Let’s pull over and discuss this.”