At the first stop for fuel, I didn’t lift my head to acknowledge Aaron when he asked me if I wanted to use the bathroom. When he climbed back into the truck and handed me a sandwich, I didn’t reach for it. I remained slumped against the door, and my mind lingered in a tailspin that wouldn’t stop.

Why the hell did Aaron even care if I ate or used the bathroom? He was taking me someplace to murder me. I was to blame for what Aaron had done and for what he was about to do to me. It was my selfish actions that had led to this outcome. I would have to live with my friends’ deaths for however long I had left.

I hated Aaron for what he’d done. I wanted to see him suffer for killing my friends, but my fucking heart refused to let go of the fact that I still had feelings for him...feelings that I would stack into a pile on the ground and set afire if such a thing were possible.

Time passed in a blur as I sat and wallowed in my misery, not hearing or seeing the world around me. I hated myself more than Aaron ever could. I had no idea if hours or minutes were passing. I didn’t care anymore.

When my bladder could no longer hold the large amount of water I’d drunk after my evening run, I allowed my pee to flow out of me. Who cared if I was a piss-drenched mess? I’d gotten my friends killed, and I was about to be tortured and killed. I simply sat there in a catatonic state until Aaron picked up the scent of my urine.

“Megan, what the fuck!”

Aaron slammed his foot on the brake, making the tires squeal as they trembled under the weight of the truck. The sudden emergence of momentum lurched me forward. I didn’t bother resisting the force of the impact and would have likely hit the windshield if I hadn’t been snatched back by the seat belt.

Due to the dark sky, Aaron tapped the button for the interior light, flicking it on. He glanced between my legs first before his gaze followed the wet trail that led to his floor.

“Goddammit, Megan! What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you do that?”

I didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge that he was talking to me. I’d heard him, but at the same time, I hadn’t heard a word.

He gripped my shoulder and shook me, but I sat there and let my body get jerked around.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked again as his head pivoted between my face and the pool of piss at my feet.

Aaron hopped out of the truck, leaving his door open as he jogged around to my side.

When he cracked open my door, my body slumped over and hung out of the opening. The seatbelt kept me from tumbling to the ground.

Aaron shoved me back into the truck by my shoulder. The sound of cars zooming by on the road through Aaron’s left open door registered, but my mind failed me and I couldn’t concentrate on anything but imagining my friends dying at the hands of a man my fucking heart refused to let go of.

“You’re fucking crazier than I imagined you were,” he said through gritted teeth.

With a firm grip on my shoulder, he shook and questioned me to find out what was wrong with me. This was how I’d handled my grief the first time I’d been raped by my foster father when I was twelve. I’d stopped talking for a month. My mind had decided to come back when it was ready.

Aaron reached across me and unhooked my seatbelt before he pulled me out of his truck.

He struggled to stand me up, when I was unable to get my mind to tell my legs to support my teetering body. He reached down to prop me up against the side of the truck after I’d let my body slide to the ground. I was vaguely aware of what was happening, but my mind was so filled with images of Aaron killing my friends, I couldn’t think straight long enough to function normally.

Aaron rummaged in the back of his truck and came out with a roll of paper towels and some type of cleaning spray. He fussed and cussed at me as he wiped his seat and floor.

“I don’t have the time to deal with a crazy-ass woman. Look at this shit. This is going to stain my seats. Fuck!”

Rubbing hard enough to shake the truck, he mumbled and grumbled as he cleaned the seat and floor with angry swipes.

“I can’t believe this shit. Out of all the shit I could be dealing with, I end up with the craziest bitch in the state of Florida.”

Once he was satisfied with the seat cleaning, he pulled out a large green blanket from the storage box in the bed of his truck and spread it across the seat. He proceeded to stand me up and deadlift me into the truck before reaching around and securing my seatbelt again. I was no help to him. My limp body slumped right back over to the door opening. Aaron gave me a shove before he closed the door to keep from slamming me in it.

He hopped back in the truck and took off. His revving engine and sharp turns helped to translate his level of anger towards me. It seemed minutes had passed when the truck slowed to a crawl. The crunch of gravel and the unmistakable ditch-deep potholes in the road made themselves known before Aaron came to a stop.

We’d ended up at Aaron’s house. It appeared he was going to bath me in acid and bury me with Chuck, Dutch, and Clint, the three men we’d killed inside his kitchen. It didn’t matter. I deserved it. Out of all the crazy messes I’d made in my life, this one was unforgivable.

I’d chosen the August Knights Motorcycle Club because nothing about any of them was innocent, so if something I did led to their deaths, I wouldn’t have cared. However, I would have cared about Aaron until now. Now, even he was on my shit list after what he’d done to my friends.