Ivy Humphreys
Tension clung to me. I could barely breathe in the Mercedes. Uncle Dwight fiddled with the shiny black pistol in the center console. His hand shook from anxiety and his failing mind.
Four days ago, we fled our Reno mansion. My scalp still stung where those revolting men yanked hair from my head in the struggle. Bruises covered my right wrist. I glanced at Uncle Dwight to find his shiner had gone from purple to yellow.
My family's wealth was apparently gone. This was the reason Uncle Linus used for making me pay for his gambling debt.
The once tight-knit Humphreys brothers had turned against each other. Dwight knew his time was short and hoped to be my hero. Linus wanted to survive his loan shark's anger, even if it meant burning down everything good in his life. Stuck in the middle, I was ill-equipped to survive either man's plans.
Using his final, nearly maxed-out credit card, Dwight and I traveled east. Despite driving every day, we'd only reached Missouri. Our slow trek allowed danger to nearly catch up with us.
Our every purchase was tracked by Linus, who likely shared our location with the men he brought to the mansion that night. Time was running out for Dwight and me.
"I need to center myself," Uncle Dwight said as his hands continued to wildly shake. "We'll stay at this gas station for a little bit. Then, we'll see the ocean."
I didn't know how to drive and had never traveled. My knowledge of the world came from entertainment. Nothing about the last four days harkened back to any road trip movies I'd even seen. The Mercedes' GPS kept us from becoming lost, yet we couldn't seem to create any real distance from our troubles in Reno.
We'd left everything behind. Today, I was wearing the same outfit as when the men showed up with Uncle Linus. Two days ago, Dwight and I shopped at a gas station for new clothes. I hadn't been able to wash the T-shirt and sweatpants last night. So, I was back in the outfit my mom bought me years ago during her "1960s London" phase.
During the station shopping, Dwight chose a set of overalls despite their high cost. He said they reminded him of his childhood. His mind was often on the past. He couldn't deal with the present, and he wasn't able to face the future.
I knew my uncle planned to end our lives in the Atlantic Ocean. He often talked about how drowning was a painless way to die. Though I doubted he was right, the alternative back in Reno felt like a worse fate.
My uncle's choice of the Atlantic Ocean was meant to give us more time to live. He never spelled out his plan. However, I knew this road trip didn't end with us enjoying a beach vacation.
Death wasn't the escape I wanted. I still hoped to live like a normal person. Leaving the mansion for the first time in years felt like a gift, even if we had dangerous men on our tail.
Despite my desires, I allowed Uncle Dwight's plan to guide us. I'd always been a passenger in my life. The world I felt most comfortable with existed only in movies, books, and TV shows. Having spent four days in the real world, I realized how little I understood.
Maybe death would be a relief. I certainly didn't want to go back to Reno. I'd rather let the ocean swallow me up than become a toy for perverted, violent men.
The plan felt set in stone. Except Uncle Dwight was too sick to drive for long. He got lost often and argued with the GPS. His mind had begun to fail months ago. Now, he was barely coherent.
Feeling desperate by day two, I tried driving. I did okay when the roads were wide open with few cars. Once we hit traffic, I had to pull over and give up to avoid harming anyone.
With the ocean out of reach, Uncle Dwight fiddled more often with his pistol. He was thinking of a different way to put us out of our misery.
My uncle mumbled, "Linus texted to say we won't reach Illinois. He claimed it would be easier if we stayed put and waited for someone to bring us back."
I could already imagine Uncle Dwight lifting the pistol and pointing it at me. His pale blue eyes would be the last thing I saw before everything went black. After four days on the road, death felt overdue.
Despite my earlier resignation to this fate, I panicked when his hand gripped the gun.
"I have to use the restroom," I said and reached for the door handle.
Uncle Dwight suddenly gabbed my hand and stared into my eyes. This man helped raise me. After my mother drowned while swimming high on ketamine, Dwight and Linus kept me safe. Yet, neither man had ever wanted me to learn to fend for myself. If I were stuck at the mansion, I couldn't outgrow them or run away. That was how they chose to keep their remaining family close.
Now, I was a burden to Dwight and a commodity to Linus.
My uncle's eyes filled with tears. He knew we were trapped in this place. The booze had ruined his mind. His life was nearly over. Linus wouldn't kill him. The loan shark didn't care if Dwight lived or died. My uncle was ready to check out.
I was the reason we were running. He hoped I might die "gently." He'd convinced himself years ago that his beloved sister--my funny yet aggressively unsafe mother--had died peacefully in our pool.
Now, he wanted that end for me. If only we'd gone west rather than east, our troubles would be over by now.
"You're the only good thing I've ever done in my life," Dwight shared in a slurred voice as his deteriorating mind struggled to form words. "I never loved anyone like I did you, Ivy."
"I love you, too, Uncle Dwight. You've done everything you could to protect me," I replied and held his shaking hand in both of mine.
I stared into his eyes and saw a man I loved with all my heart. I'd had such a lonely childhood with only my family to keep me company. When I was sad, I would crawl into Dwight's lap and let him promise me lies.
"Everything will be better one day," he would always tell me.
Uncle Dwight said the same thing when we fled the mansion.
But his lies weren't enough anymore.
"I love you," I said again and rested his hand on his lap. "But I have to use the restroom."
Uncle Dwight didn't want to die alone. In his mind, we could walk into the ocean and find peace together. His plan felt like a gift to us both. But right now, I saw something inside his often-confused gaze.
"Don't come back," Dwight said, choking on the words as he admitted what was in his heart. "Forget you're a member of this godforsaken family."
Though I wanted to say something reassuring, no words could fix what awaited us both.
I stroked his jaw and felt the urge to stay. That was what the Humphreys family did. We remained locked together until death stole us away. I shouldn't leave Uncle Dwight to die alone.
Yet, this was my final shot to get away. Uncle Dwight didn't want to be the one to end me. He was afraid. Leaving him would offer him mercy.
"Get out!" I screamed in my head when I felt the urge to linger, "Go now!"
That defiant voice inside me often got swallowed up by the malaise of an unlived life. Today, though, I pushed open the Mercedes door and forced myself to turn away from Uncle Dwight.
I feared my uncle might say something to keep me locked with him. His silence offered me a chance to escape. I closed the door and stared out at the busy gas station just off the highway exit.
A gust of chilly wind blew my blonde hair in my face. I stepped away from the Mercedes and gripped my purse.
Refusing to look back in the car and see my dying uncle, I struggled to take steps toward the gas station's store.
I feared what would happen next. I didn't know how to survive. Should I ask someone for help? Was hitchhiking a real thing or only something done in movies?
Each step away from the Mercedes got easier. I entered the store with the plan to use the restroom and make sure I didn't look deranged. I needed to make a good impression on whoever I encountered. People were more likely to help attractive, friendly strangers.
Before reaching the restrooms, I stopped dead in my tracks. My gaze caught sight of an impossibly handsome man in the refrigerated section.
That pushy voice in my head demanded I keep moving. Men weren't a safe bet for help.
"They all want something!"
That other voice in my head--the unbreakable dreamer--begged for me to move closer. I might be dead soon. Shouldn't I die knowing the color of this beautiful man's eyes?
His golden-brown hair was windswept. I suspected he was the owner of the motorcycle I passed on my way in. His leather jacket was the shade of mocha. His chocolate-colored riding boots were worn like an old pair he couldn't bear to throw out. His dark blue denim jeans looked newer.
His strong jaw was covered in a tidy beard. He owned sharp cheekbones and full lips. He looked taller than the men I knew and thicker across the chest.
I stepped closer to see him better. Was this gorgeous man simply a mirage? Needing to prove to myself that he was real, I inched a bit closer.
The man held two flavors of an energy drink in his large hands. He seemed deep in thought. I sensed the exact moment he noticed someone closing in on him.
His stance shifted. His breathing slowed down. He set the two drinks back in the display case. I felt him very deliberately turn to face me. His blue-eyed gaze was sharp and almost hostile.
I should have backed away, flinched, or run. Why was I testing this large, intimidating man? Was I cursed with a death wish?
Rather than flee, I stepped closer. His gaze drew me to him. I doubted he realized its power. The man blinked quickly, sensing I wasn't a threat.
"Did you need something?" he asked.
His voice ripped the tension from me. I stared into his eyes and wondered how they could be so beautiful. Had I died in the car? Was this man simply the fevered dream of a dying mind?
He glanced around like a predator sizing up his surroundings. "Are you here alone?"
His words felt like a threat. I had seen enough true crime shows to know that women traveling alone were easy marks. Had I poked at a monster in search of his next victim?
When I didn't answer, he asked, "Do you need help?"
I wanted to spill my guts to this man. His eyes were the warmest blue, shiny like jewels, and filled with concern. They drew me closer, even as warning bells went off in my head.
"I don't know the right answer," I said, starting to hear my voice.
A car honked outside. I flinched away, thinking Uncle Dwight had forgotten about telling me to escape. Did he think I was coming back? Or was Uncle Dwight warning me? I stared outside and waited to see if the men from the mansion had caught up with us.
Instead, I only saw a man yelling at a semi-truck. The people in the store took notice of the brewing fight between the truck driver, who stepped out of his semi to yell at the man who honked.
I looked back at the gorgeous man to find his gaze locked on me.
"Are you in danger?" he asked and stepped closer.
I wanted to lie. Seeing him up close emphasized our size difference. He was easily more than a foot taller than I was.
His size and the fight outside sent my heart racing. I thought back to my sickly youth. My family kept me hidden away because they said I was too physically weak to handle the world. Right now, my heart beat hard in my chest, and I imagined it giving out completely.
The fear left my head swimming. I should lie to this man and walk away. That was a smart plan, but the man's gaze held a hypnotic power over me.
"Yes," I stammered as if speaking against my will. "I don't know where to go."
"Should we call the police for help?"
"Is that the right answer?"
The man glanced outside. His gaze didn't focus on the arguing men. He was scanning the vehicles.
"Did you drive here?"
"I can't go back to my uncle's car. He wants me to escape."
"Do you want to escape?"
"I'm not ready to die."
The man sized me up as his face clenched in thought. Was he imagining where to ditch my body? Or was he the good kind of sexy stranger, and I wouldn't end up in a shallow grave?
"I'm going to walk out to my motorcycle and ride away. You can come with me. Or you can stay and ask the clerk to call the police. What you choose is up to you."
I felt like I was making a deal with the devil. Rather than steal my soul, he insisted I give it to him willingly.
The man glanced outside again, seeming hyper-alert. I knew he was ready to leave.
When his gaze returned to mine, he offered a smile. My fear dropped away. The rough beating in my chest slowed to a normal rate. Unable to remember why I had feared him, I only wanted to go wherever he went.
"I'm Clint Reed," he said and lifted his hand for me to hold.
The voices in my head were silent now when I needed them most. Instead, I heard my mother speaking to me.
"Life is too hard. You can't handle the stress. Hiding is your only solution. We aren't people built for hardship."
Geraldine Humphreys was right about our family. We were all slaves to our weaknesses. She loved men and drugs. Linus was driven by his gambling addiction. Dwight drank himself into an early grave.
And I wasn't equipped to run my own life.
That was why I took Clint Reed's outstretched hand and agreed to let the devil run the show.
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