“Did he do this to you?” the truck driver asked, grazing the bloody bruises on my cheek.
I recoiled, hating the man’s touch, but did my best to stand still as I nodded, desperate for his help.
“Jump in and crawl to the back, so he won’t see you,” the man instructed me, and I didn’t waste a second.
He was closing the door behind him when Daniel reached the truck and stood in front of it, to prevent him from driving away.
“Is there a problem?” the man asked Daniel in a very calm tone.
“I’m looking for my wife. Have you seen her? She’s mentally unstable and hasn’t taken her pills in a while,” he said, as he walked towards the truck’s door.
“I haven’t seen anyone since I left the restaurant,” the man replied, nonchalantly.
“Are you sure? She’s small, thin, with long black hair,” Daniel insisted.
“Yes, I’m sure!” he said, sounding impatient. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re wasting my time.”
I knew Daniel wanted to insist, but I also knew he wouldn’t dare. He only abused those he knew were weaker than him, and the truck driver was not helpless
“Thanks for your help.”
The truck finally drove away from the parking lot, and a few minutes later, the driver invited me out of my hideout.
“You can come out if you want,” he told her.
Still shuddering, I stumbled back to the passenger seat, fastening the seat belt. “Thank you for helping me,” I mumbled.
“My pleasure,” he said, glancing at me with a smile on his face. “There’s a first-aid kit in the glove compartment. You should clean those wounds,” he advised me.
“Thank you,” I mumbled as I looked for the kit.
“Where are you going?” he asked as he entered the highway.
“As far away as possible from this town,” I said, my voice still shaky and unstable.
“My destination is Portland, Oregon. You can ride with me if you want,” he offered.
I turned around to look at him. I hadn't been able to take a good look at his face in the parking lot, too focused on escaping to worry about the look on my rescuer’s face.
I realized now that it was a mistake. I could have ended up in a far worse situation with a stranger meaner than Daniel. Truck drivers weren’t the most trustworthy people in the world, but I hadn't stopped to think. Honestly, I would have taken my chances with Freddy Kruger instead of going back to New York with Daniel.
The man sitting behind the wheel was probably in his mid to late fifties. His kind face showed the passage of time, but he was still handsome with his broad smile and his shining blue eyes.
I, more than anyone, knew how deceiving appearances could be, but for some reason, I felt safe.
“How long for you to get there?” I asked, with a slight frown.
I only had a few dollars and my driver’s license on me. That certainly wouldn’t take me very far.
“A couple of days. I’m in no rush,” he replied with a smile.
“I can’t afford that,” I mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Perhaps, you could drop me off wherever you stop to spend the night.”
“I’m not stopping until tomorrow morning. I much rather drive during the night. Less traffic and better music on the radio,” he explained, with a teasing smile.
“Can you take me that far?” I asked, with a trembling smile.
The further I went, the better it would be. Daniel would have fewer chances of finding me again.
