Chapter Twelve: Don't F&cking Touch Me.
1129 Words
Renee drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gripping the side of her seat as if that could stop her thoughts from spinning. The stranger’s face lingered like a bruise in her mind. His half-smile, that unreadable calm after nearly killing her. Who the hell was he? Why did she care so much?
Every minute without an answer made her more tense. The silence wasn’t calming anymore; it was driving her up the wall.
The longer she drove, the crazier it drove her. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she slammed the indicator and made a sharp U-turn. Screw it. She’d go to her mother’s. Two and a half hours of distance, maybe three if the car held up — just enough time to spin through every memory she had, dissecting them, hunting for what she’d overlooked.
The car groaned in protest, the engine coughing from the damage caused earlier. The dashboard lights flickered like a dying pulse, and the fuel gauge hovered below empty. When she finally saw a petrol station glowing faintly on the side of the road, she almost laughed.
It looked like something out of a bad horror movie: one flickering light above the pumps, a cracked sign that just read “AS”, and an empty stretch of nothing in every direction as far as the eye could see.
“Perfect. Truly couldn’t make this s**t up at this point,” she muttered under her breath.
She pulled up beside a pump and stepped out, the night air a refreshing slap to the face. As she started filling the tank, her eyes swept the shadows. It felt as if she looked away for even a second, something in them would move out, crawl towards her and tear her apart.
The meter climbed slowly, and she watched it like a hawk. It couldn’t go past thirty dollars.
$27.04.
$28.56.
$29.94—
$30.01.
Renee exhaled sharply and gave a tired, humourless laugh. “Of course. That one cent’s probably what kills me later. I can just see it now.”
She twisted the cap shut, locked the car, and headed for the shop. The bell above the door gave a shrill little ding as she entered.
Inside, the place was dimly lit. Shelves half-stocked, a humming fridge of drinks, and a single man crouched by the snacks aisle, stacking boxes. He looked rough. His beard was unkempt, his eyes ringed in sleepless circles, uniform hanging off his shoulders like it didn’t belong to him.
When he saw her, his posture shifted. He was suddenly alert, almost hungry for her. He had a kind of look about him that made your skin crawl before your brain could catch up.
Renee met his stare evenly, her voice calm. “Pump three. Need to pay and grab a drink.”
The man wiped his hands on his jeans and took a slow step closer. “Can I help you find something?”
“I got it covered, thanks,” she said, forcing a polite smile. “I just need a couple of energy drinks, cigarettes, and to pay for my fuel. I’ll be quick.”
She reached into the fridge, feeling his stare burn into her back. He wasn’t just looking; he was devouring her with his eyes.
“You from around here?” he questioned.
“Nope.”
“Long drive?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
He moved closer towards her, and she caught his reflection in the fridge door. The way he stared made her stomach twist. It wasn’t attraction; it was possession.
“Never seen you before,” he wondered. “I would've remembered a pretty face like that.”
Renee stood there holding a can, looking like she’d just run out of patience for the entire world. “Does that line work often?”
He chuckled. “Only when I mean it, and you sure do have a pretty face, flower.”
“Hmm.” She moved towards the counter, but his hand brushed against her waist. That tiny, casual touch, like he thought he could get away with it.
In one fluid motion, she caught his wrist, twisted, and slammed him down, the shelves rattling from the impact. He grunted, and before he could even move, she pinned him with a knee to the chest.
“Bad idea,” she said calmly. “Horrible idea, buddy.”
He gasped for air, his face flushing. “I—I didn’t mean—”
Renee leaned closer, her tone dry and mocking, “Didn’t mean to what exactly? To grope the next woman who walked in that you liked the look of, like they belonged to you? Yeah, I can tell you’re just full of good intentions.”
“I—I—I’m sorry, I swear I won’t do it again.” He stuttered.
She stood, brushing her hands together. “Still got it, Ren,” she muttered to herself with a wry smile. “Not bad for someone running on nothing but caffeine and trauma.”
He tried to sit up, but she pressed her boot against his chest, light but firm.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she purred. “I’m leaving forty-seven dollars on the counter. I’m taking two packs of Marlboro Greens and this drink. You’re not going to move until I’m gone. Blink wrong, and I’ll make sure you can’t touch another woman ever again, whether it’s consensual next time or not. Understood?”
He nodded frantically, breath shaking.
“Good.” She stepped back and grabbed her things. “And maybe—just maybe don’t f*****g touch women without their permission, you f*****g freak. Didn’t your momma teach you manners?”
She dropped the cash on the counter, looking back at the man on the floor, making sure he hadn’t moved. She walked out without another glance and slid into her car.
Her hands were still trembling, but her face stayed calm. She cracked open the energy drink, took a long sip, and looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror.
A humourless smile tugged at her lips.
“Still got it,” she whispered, then started the engine and drove off into the dark.
Renee drove for two hours straight, and no matter how many miles passed, the stranger’s face wouldn’t leave her head. She tried to place him: going through every boy she’d known in school, but none of them fit that calm, unnerving energy he had. Still, he had to know her.
Back then, she’d photographed everything. Everyone. Maybe she’d caught him in a frame somewhere? Someone she never noticed, but who’d seen her.
One thing was clear. She wasn’t letting this go until she knew exactly who the hell he was.
- Writer
