One Headlight

Lya

I sat in the passenger seat of Trevor’s Lincoln. I was curled up small, staring out the window. Every time he tried to get me to talk, I stayed silent. Really, I had probably told him too much. I just needed to get out and away from here. 

Trevor insisted there were others like me. I had a hard time believing it. He wanted to take me to what he called a pack. They could help me, get me acclimated and adjusted to the life I was supposed to have. That wasn’t going to happen. There was no way something like me was supposed to have a life. 

“Are you like- like me?” I asked after a good half hour of silence. 

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “I am. It’s how I kept an eye on you the past couple weeks.”

“You what?” I asked, shocked. 

“C’mon, Lya,” he chided. “I knew something was wrong. Do you remember a couple weeks ago when you stayed late at the bar, actually got drunk, and then crashed at my place? I knew something was wrong.” He gave me a sideways glance, quickly reverting his eyes to the road.

I stared out the window. “I didn’t think I was that obvious,” I mumbled. I had worked so hard to stay distant. The extent of my knowledge of social interaction was mostly from people watching, and from my understanding, getting drunk and staying over at a friend’s place wasn’t unheard of. 

I had even stayed arm’s length from Ted about most things. We had pretty much just been pen pals for over a year, and it was easy to filter out the scary bits. I knew it was too good to be true when he decided to propose and move up here. 

He shook his head, a wry smile across his face. “People don’t get engaged one day and refuse to go home the next. I may not be human and our relationships work different, but I do know that.” 

“How so?” I asked. 

Trevor laughed. One of my favorite things about him had always been his ability to laugh at anything. It made me smile. I wondered if that’s what people were just supposed to be like. 

“What was your life like?” I blurted out, not even realizing I had asked what I was thinking. 

“Oh, it was great.” The smile that lingered from the laughter became nostalgic. “The pack is just like one big family. A family of a few thousand, but you get the point.” 

“How do a few thousand people hide from all of West River?” I asked. Curiosity was getting the better of me. 

Trevor shrugged. “It’s one of the larger packs. We’ve more or less built up our own self sufficient town so there’s no real reason to leave, and no big reason for others to come in. You’ll see.” It sounded like a cult, if you ask me.

“Why aren’t you still there?” I asked. 

“I’m uh… I’m looking for something.”

“If a pack is so great, why couldn’t you find it there?”

“Well life would just be too easy if everything was always at your fingertips, wouldn’t it?” he chuckled. 

The car dipped down a steep hill, heading down toward the Missouri River. Trevor pulled off into a gas station. “We’ll stop here for gas before we head into no man’s land.”

I hopped out of the passenger’s seat, grabbing my bag. Trevor looked at me quizzically. 

“I just need to go to the bathroom.” 

He nodded. I definitely didn’t want to be a part of a society where I needed permission to go to the bathroom. 

I rushed into the gas station, immediately looking for alternative exits.

Bingo. 

Right next to the bathrooms, was the entrance to the stock rooms. There’s always another exit in there. I glanced around, and no security cameras in sight. Not exactly uncommon for a place in as small a town as this.

I slipped to the back of the store and into the stockroom, quickly finding the exit and taking off. These places really needed to get better about their security. Nobody should be able to pull a stunt like that, just traipsing through employees only areas and leaving out a back door. That escape was too easy. Now hopefully Trevor didn’t notice for a while. I just needed enough time to create some distance.

Growing up, running was my escape. It was something I had never given up, even once I figured out I couldn’t run away from myself. It’s so easy to get lost in the monotony of the pounding tempo, and people rarely question your reason for running. It’s good for you, right? I knew I could run for miles, and I was fast. Give me an hour and a half, and I’d be ten miles away from here. 

I felt the resident in my brain stir. Why do you have to be so dumb. It wasn’t a question. So I didn’t bother with a response. 

Of all the places in South Dakota to stop, this was a great one. The hills around the river would at least provide a little bit to hide me from watching eyes. My feet pounded down against the earth, carrying me one step further away with each stride. 

'But you don’t even know what you’re running from.' 

I decided to stick to the hills instead of running east or west to get out of them. The Missouri was a bigger river, meaning a more hilly area surrounding it. Besides, the hills were coverage. I had heard countless times that South Dakota was one of the only states where you could watch your dog run away for five miles before jumping in the truck to follow it - I didn’t want to be that dog. If they wanted to find me, it was going to be work for them. 

'If you would just let me in, I could show you it won’t be.' 

I shook the bracelet around my wrist, hoping the silver bashing against my skin would shut her up and send her away again. 

Her. It didn’t deserve identification and personification. It wasn’t a her. It certainly wasn’t part of me. And I wasn’t going to give it the power to fuck things up even more.

My pace slowed, the terrain taking more out of me than I expected. I couldn’t afford to trip or get hurt. Better to go slow and steady and just continue making forward progress.