Escaping Control

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Escaping her previous lifestyle alive is unlikely but what about surviving her other desires..

Submitted: June 17, 2012

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Submitted: June 17, 2012



The long ride was beginning to take a toll on her ass, and the caffeine had ceased to help about one hundred miles back. Still, she griped the steering wheel with white knuckled hands and followed the seemingly endless grey concrete. Silence working for, and against, her as she ignored the flashing radio before her. A long ride forced to face the thoughts she could escape from once she reached her destination was not her idea of reprieve but that was the point, wasn't it? 

Another thirty-five miles covered and her eye lids are starting to resemble a cartoonist's sketch, in the next frame the sleep deprived dog would have clothes pins holding them open. At this point, however, she felt like the expected "fling" of the clothes pins would be inevitable. In her case, however, they would hit the windshield and ricochet back into her face. The only perk should could perceive from this was the jolting awake after being stabbed in the face by the pointy end of a usually harmless household utensil. Go figure, she'd think as she pulled off at the next exit. A pit stop where she would internally argue against renting a hotel room for the night and opt, instead, for another Big Gulp of something sickeningly sweet. Some destinations were worthy of the sacrifices it took to reach there semi-whole, and far from lucid. "Thirty on pump three, annnnnd..", she eyes the impulse purchases that seem to antagonize her every time she stops for prepackaged nourishment.."these, too".  Spearmint gum, and a compilation CD of various artists from the 90's, to go along with the economy sized cup of fizzing, hissing liquid energy. Another three-hundred or so miles of senseless battle against her body's natural need for sleep.

  I'm sexy and I know it.. I'm sexy and I know it.. Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle

I'm sexy and I know it... I'm sexy and I know it.. Wiggle wigg-


She eyes the name on her caller ID, and turns off the volume. She asks herself why she allowed everyone to download the ringtone they wanted on her cell phone. Still, as she's driving.. she can't help but sing the chorus over and over, under her breath. It is kinda catchy. The little face of her cell phone lights up the car, and she notes the indicator screaming that she has a voicemail and the she should check it soon. Shut the fuck up.. I know what it says. No need to hear it.

But, she does hear it. She hears the voice speaking in her head. And, this time.. it is pissed off. 

Where the fuck is she? Why did she fucking run out (again), and leave me alone, again? Is she coming back? Why the fuck didn't she answer my phone call? Who is she with? Why does she do this every time? Come back, NOW. This isn't fair. Growlingangrytears ... 

Yeah.. she hears it anyway.. And, she hates it. Insert CD, and the volume knob is raped with a harsh, uncaring twist. Noise fills the cab of her car. Familiar noise. She sings along. The voice is left, for now, in the closets of her mind where it mingles with skeletons without the privilege of dust.   Some secrets never truly get old- they're like lies, weaving larger and larger webs. She figures that those webs get out of hand much quicker than anyone ever thinks they will. She also wonders how many actually see a way out, a clean get-a-way, and take it. She doubts it's a high statistic.

The lifestyle, the taboo.. Knowing that it's rewards are seductive, and that the lure isn't even the danger or the money.. It's a pair of icy blue pools staring down at her through a blonde curtain of mussed hair. It's a hard body, and a harsher fuck. It's about the pain from the lasting marks, and the possessive way that same mouth claims what it wants - with or without words. The lifestyle is the only sandbag, and for awhile.. even that's exciting.

For awhile.

She knows that her old life will find her. She knows that you can never escape the past, completely. Yet, at the same time.. She knows that she can enjoy what she finds from this point on. Once you join, you don't get out. Not breathing, anyway..

Still, she's not gonna make it easy- she feels a grin curl the corners of her lips. The thing about the lifestyle is the things they taught her to survive while she was a part of it... are the same things she's going to use to escape. Have her survival instincts kicked into high gear yet? No, to tell the truth she's doing everything wrong. She doesn't care though. Leave them a trail to follow, to sniff out.. and feel the heat from her tire treads. When she does vanish, it'll feel all that much more satisfying.. Imagining the frustration, the anger one their face.. She can't help but grin larger.

For now, she'll enjoy the last for hours of being herself. Of having the same name she was born with, the same hair length, color, and so many other traits she use to take for granted. After this drive, after this distance.. she'll kill the girl in the mirror. Doubling back, finding a place to recreate the face.. it'll be someone who answers to another name.. another history making up all her personality defects.. Nowhere to call home, for too long.. no face, no name.. ever re-used... She'll be on the run, killing personas without hesitation.  A lone wolf, equipped with only the pack mentality.. She'll survive, so long as she remembers how to run.


The vibrations wake her from her thoughts. Mindless, zombie driving is totally underrated. She's covered almost another one hundred miles while lost in her thoughts. Still, she eyes the cell phone as it vibrates in the cup holder. If she answered it now, and turned around.. they'd be suspicious. No one trust her ever again.. but, she would still feel the chill of those iced pools gazing at her. Of course, she could never drop her guard..


And that settles it for her. she knows he would sooner rip out her throat than let her leave.


[To be continued..]

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