CHAPTER 17 #2
Her taunts shifted, “You looked scared. Almost like I’d stumbled across some dark secret.
” I was becoming restless, part of me wondering if she had seen anything in my file.
Everything was in there. They didn’t leave a damn detail out about my past. The beatings.
The drugs. Even the child exploitation from my own fucking parents.
Dr Brenner hadn’t left a stone unturned in juvie.
So, between the endless prying questions from the shrink and the countless hospital reports of suspicious injuries I’d sustained growing up, she would know every gruesome detail.
“So, did I?” Misfit pressed me further.
I wanted to test the theory, “You don’t actually know a fucking thing.”
“Oh yeah? How do you know?”
The fire in my gut rising, wanting to wipe the smirk from her face.
“Because if you did, then …You know what, never mind.” I leaned in closer to her as she scanned over me, looking for anything she could feed off; my tone deepened with its intended warning.
“You’re only ever going to know, what I want you to know.
Understand?” I retreated, picking up my glass, throwing the rest down my throat as I forcefully slammed the glass down onto the table.
She glared at me for a beat, her jaw tensing in annoyance that she wasn’t getting what she wanted from me.
Closing the space between us, she leaned forward, “Either way, whether I know what’s in that file or not, you’re lucky you’re not dead.” Her finger jabbed into my shoulder, “You put your hands on me. And I don’t fucking like being touched.”
She snatched the bottle from the table, pulling it towards her as she leaned back in her seat.
My words filled with equal fury, “Noted. You don’t like being touched, and I don’t like being fucking questioned.”
An unspeakable tension sat between us, the air thick with volatile animosity. I was done with her probing. But this was Misfit; she wouldn’t let it drop even if I pleaded with her to.
“So, you’re not even going to tell me a little bit?”
I responded quickly, “No. You’d just twist it.”
Her brows knitted together, “What the fuck does that mean?” I placed my elbows on the table, glaring towards her, closing this once and for all.
“You don’t really want to know what’s in that file, Misfit. You just want leverage for this twisted game we’re playing, just like you did back then.” She opened her mouth, but I didn’t let her interrupt.
“You might even think that what’s in there explains me. Well, it won’t. Not really.” Her smile faded slowly, like something peeled back behind her eyes. “And what about your file?” I added. “I reckon you’re just as fucked as I am, if not worse. More padded cells and taser guns.”
Her hand draped over my shoulder, accompanied by a dangerous expression, “Oh, you have no fucking idea.” That raised more questions about her in my mind, but I wasn’t about to draw blood to get answers like she apparently was trying to do to me.
Another beat of silence. Then she knocked back the last of the vodka, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and stood.
Wobbled, just slightly, but caught herself.
“This is boring now. I feel like doing something fun,” she said, tossing the empty bottle onto the table. I raised a brow.
“Like what?” She shrugged before turning from me.
She stormed off from the table, slipping into the alley, as I shifted myself from the booth.
What was I doing? I should’ve walked away.
But instead, I followed. Willingly. Because I was starting to learn, it wasn’t about trust or sense with her.
It was about gravity, and yet again I’d been sucked in.
Stepping outside the bar, I caught a flash of her hair, turning the corner of the building onto the main strip.
“Misfit?”
Typical. One drink turns into twelve, a conversation turns into a minefield, and now she’d vanished into thin air like a bad idea with good legs.
I held a cigarette to my lips when I heard the distant squawk of a police radio.
Then quickly accompanied by sirens. Blue and red lights flickered across the brick walls like a warning flare.
I turned, eyes raised, and there she was, behind the wheel of a bloody cop car.
Fuck!
She was grinning like the devil on a joyride, one hand draped casually over the steering wheel, the other flicking the sirens off just as she pulled up to the curb.
“Get in, loser,” she yelled, like this was some twisted high school movie.
I stared at her, stunned into silence, until the sound of actual shouting reached my ears.
Two cops tore around the far corner, shouting into their radios and sprinting full tilt.
Misfit leaned over, popped the passenger door open, and said with a wink, “Last chance, in or out?”
For half a second, I hesitated. Then I heard the words “He’s with her!
” shouted from one of the officers, and my feet were moving before my brain could catch up.
I threw myself into the passenger seat, slamming the door just as she floored the accelerator.
The tyres squealed against the tarmac, and we shot off like a bullet down the side street, wind howling through the half-open window.
“What the fuck Misfit!” I said breathless, half laughing, half choking on adrenaline. She laughed. Like, really laughed. A wild, unfiltered sound.
“Don’t ever say I don’t ever take you anywhere fun!”
My heart was hammering. Blood roaring in my ears. “You actually stole a cop car!”
She didn’t even look at me. Just shrugged, her eyes locked on the road. “They left it there, unlocked, that’s practically an invitation.”
“What the fuck?! Are you insane?” My body shifted, looking out the back window of the car as the cops became smaller.
“A bold question from the one who jumped in with me.”
“I panicked, alright?”
“Maybe that’s part of it. But I think the real reason you’re sitting here is because you thrive on the chaos. Like me.” Glancing my way, grinning.
I had no comeback. So, I gave a dry laugh. It tasted like disbelief and vodka and something terrifyingly close to exhilaration. Because she was right.
Rounding a corner faster than she was meant to, sent my body sideways into the door of the car.
“Fuck Misfit, do you even know how to drive?”
Her head slowly turned to me to tell me everything, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It’ll be fine! I just need to get onto a straight road.”
“I can’t believe you did this, not even knowing how to drive.”
“I am driving!”
“Barely!”
The engine growled under us as Misfit weaved the stolen cop car through the city’s dim-lit backstreets, tyres screaming as she turned onto the main strip. Drivers slamming on the brakes to avoid near misses.
“Oh relax! We’re making memories, you miserable pricks.” With one hand still lazily on the wheel, she dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” my words filled with laughter.
“Oh, I fucking will,” she grinned, already unlocking it. She flipped the camera to selfie mode and held it up with practised flair, angling it to catch us both in the frame, her eyes glowing with that wicked spark. “Say cheese pretty boy,” hitting record.
“You’re gonna get us shot,” I muttered, ducking slightly out of the camera’s reach, a wide smile on my face. She only laughed.
Then she tapped the screen again, flipping to the front camera and this time facing the glowing dash of the stolen cruiser.
“What’s up piglets,” she cooed into the phone mic, dropping her voice into a mocking imitation of a dispatcher.
“This is unit… fuck, I dunno, who cares, coming to you live from tonight’s grand theft adventure.
” She reached forward and clicked on the still-active police radio button.
Static cracked. A voice tried to cut through, issuing garbled commands about a stolen vehicle and suspects on the move. Her grin widened.
She held the phone up close to the mic and whispered, syrupy and slow: “Tell me, how’s it feel getting outrun by a girl in eyeliner and a pretty boy?” She turned the camera back on me, pushing the phone right into my face. “Say hi to your fans.”
Fuck it. This was already going to end badly, so why not enjoy the fire. I grabbed the phone from her hands, tilting it to include both of us in the shot.
“We’ve apprehended two suspects: one bottle of vodka and a whole lotta disappointment.
” Misfit choked on her laughter. “Requesting backup,” I went on, tone perfectly flat, “preferably with snacks. And maybe a playlist that doesn’t suck.
” I leaned back with a grin I hadn’t felt on my face in years.
She was staring at me, both amused and a little impressed.
She cackled, taking the phone back from me and flipping the camera to selfie mode again, holding it between us.
I leaned into the frame, middle finger up, grin sharp and unapologetic.
“Smile Motherfucker.”
The shutter sound echoed between us as she captured the moment.
The flashing lights behind us were growing brighter. Closer. The wail of sirens was like teeth dragging against my spine.
Misfit’s hands slammed the steering wheel; knuckles pale as bone.
“Shit,” she spat, eyes flicking from the mirror to the road.
Back and forth, as if she could will the upcoming traffic jam to move.
But they didn’t. Brake lights. Horns. A wall of metal boxed us in.
A fucking bottleneck in the middle of our escape.
She growled low in her throat, slamming the heel of her hand against the horn. “MOVE!”
“Misfit,” I said, calm but grinning. A little too calm for the current situation. My heart was hammering, but I didn’t let it show. I leaned back in the seat, glancing sideways at her. “I don’t think they heard you.”
She cut her eyes toward me, “You think this is funny?”
I shrugged, lips twitching. “A little.”
The sirens were screaming now. Close enough to see the reflections dancing off the windows. The sound evoked a primal response in my chest: fight or flight. I chose the flight.
I leaned toward her, voice low and amused. “Looks like we’re boxed in sweetheart.”
She gritted her teeth, “Shut up dickhead! I’ll figure it out.”
But I was already moving. My hand was on the door handle.
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Oh, I dare.” I gave her that signature smile. Her face twisted as I yanked open the door. “Screech!”
“Thanks for the ride, Bitch tits,” I winked.
And then I was gone. The door slammed behind me as I bolted, weaving through frozen cars like a stray bullet.
I didn’t look back. Not right away. But just as I rounded the corner of an alley, I turned, just for a second.
A devilish smile on my face as I bite down on my bottom lip.
She was still in the driver’s seat. Trapped as red and blue lights crawled across her skin. Cops closing in fast. And still… she didn’t react. She just sat there, pulling out a cigarette, blowing smoke from the window. Her eyes drifted to me as I caught the faintest ghost of a smirk.
The wind cut sharply through the alley as I ran, gravel crunching underfoot, my breath heavy but full of something wild.
Misfit was chaos wrapped in Doc Martens.
A Molotov in lipstick. She’d find her way out.
Whether it was with her fists, her mouth, or just sheer fucking will. I didn’t doubt her for a second.
Laughter tore from my throat before I could stop it.
I ducked into another alley, a quieter one.
Bent double, hands on my knees, catching my breath in the stink of city rot and piss.
My chest heaved, a grin still split across my face.
The way she just sparked up in the middle of such chaos, laughter cracking in my chest. My legs screamed with every step now, lungs like fire in my ribs, but I didn’t stop.
Couldn’t. The sirens had faded behind me, but I knew better than to relax.
Cops were like roaches, crush one, and five more showed up with flashlights.
What the fuck was I doing? She stole a fucking cop car.
And my dumbass jumped straight in. I really hope she doesn’t post that video. Fuck! She’s going to post the video.
I continued my quickened pace until I reached familiar ground.
I approached Chester’s flat. I don’t know why I keep calling it Chester’s flat.
It’s basically my flat at this point. The flat was dark.
Quiet. Just the low buzz of the fridge and the hum of streetlight bleeding in through the blinds.
I dragged a hand through my hair, sweat cooling at the back of my neck now, the rush wearing off.
My heart still kicked hard in my chest, the way the night had turned.
From the way she had turned it. I dropped onto the sagging couch like my spine had been cut, head rolling back, the ceiling cracked in that one spot that looked like a crooked grin.
Fitting. I stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.
She hadn’t screamed my name, hadn’t begged me to stay.
She just sat there, boxed in, waiting to see what I’d do next.
Because that’s the game, right? She was probably in cuffs.
Maybe laughing, maybe bleeding. Who the hell knew.
I kicked off my boots, letting them thud to the floor, and stretched out across the couch. I sighed and pulled my hood over my eyes, trying to let the silence drown everything else out. But it wouldn’t. Not her smirk. Not the sound of sirens. Not the way she didn’t try to stop me.
What a fucking night.