Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Casanova Me

Her petite, delicate body slouches in the too-big-for-her front seat of the car. I'm eying her every subtle move in this isolated tree. I want to scream and cause commotion as her fingertips gently land on the handle of the car door. She eases the door so slowly to the latch as if the world would explode the second silence was broken. It is dead and evil outside. She looks out at the cracked rear view mirror of the passenger seat inhaling the sharpness of the forbidden, unknown upcoming. I'm clenching on the branch so hard my knuckles are stone white. I feel blood is gushing out of my entire existence as I suddenly see him grasp the handle of his door. He yanks it open unafraid of this sacred delicacy that is in the air. Plopping right on to the seat, his right hand inserts the key into the engine. His left hand grips the latch, shutting the door, shutting the world. I am choking. He brushes his fingertips against her forearms, and he reaches across her shoulder. Grabbing a hold of the seat belt, he swiftly pulls it across her shaking body attaching it to the buckle next to her thin thigh. She is breathing like it is her last breath. Without any eye contact, he rotates his hips back to the steering wheel bringing the car into reverse. My heart is in my throat, not a single word can etch out of my dry lips. I am mute while he backs out of the parking lot. He makes a sharp turn and speeds off onto the dirt road I am unfamiliar with. I catch the last glimpse of her hair from the back of the car. I could not see her face, but her body language was death.

Forsaken. That is what it feels like. I am in a place where people have forgotten and left so long ago, it should have decayed just like a dead body. All that should be left is its unwanted, grotesque remains soon falling into an underworld. I can't help but keep sliding on this huge leather seat. I feel I am an atom under a microscope. I don't know what I am doing here. Nothing is familiar. I am more lost than a pirate shipwrecked. His breath is thick and my lungs are filled with the scent of his freshly lit tobacco. His car is drenched in such a cigarette aroma my head is feeling woozy. I hate his car. I hate the way the engine hums. It produces an unkind, unlovely sound to the ears, I am so tempted to cover my hearing with my palms. But, I am to frightened to move a single muscle or joint. Where am I? And tell me who am I? Who is this unknown stranger next to me? My heart is in my throat and I want to sob. The stranger is pushing the gas pedal and focused on the road that is leading me to terror. He has not made eye contact with me. He has barely noticed my presence until his fingertips were on my seat belt. All I can think is how perfect this was planned. Not a single soul was in that parking lot or in that building. He had such perfect timing it makes me so stupidly jealous. My eyeballs crawl to the window as I hear his turning signal go off. The car is screeching into another parking lot and up ahead awaits the part that is now a horror movie except real. Crucify me.



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback