My Escape Chapter 8 (Part 1)

**Just so you know, this chapter is awfully long, so I had to break it into two parts. Hope you enjoy!! Please comment!**

Suddenly, this was way too much for me to handle. "Okay," I managed to squeak out and then ran away. I darted down the porch steps, around the side of the house, and then down the street. Tears were pouring from my eyes and my heart was breaking.
Oliver had been dead on; that was what hurt the most. Even though he barely knew me, he knew exactly what to say to crush me. How come I hadn’t even been able to figure that out about myself, but he could? He barely even knew me!

My dad, my brother, my mom, Oliver, I wanted to escape everything. I just wanted to leave it all behind me. Apparently I wasn’t strong enough to handle everything that life was going to throw at me. Ever since my mom died, I had tried my hardest to be strong for my dad and Greg.
Joining the paper, cooking the supper, cleaning up the house, never crying; I had done all of it so that I could be strong. But then Oliver screams at me and suddenly I’m not strong anymore, I’m weak. Who was he to make me feel so badly about myself? How come he had such control over me?
I never wanted to see him again.

I ran until my lungs were on the verge of collapsing, until my legs were throbbing, and until I felt like I was drowning in my own tears. When I finally did stop running, I had no idea where I was.
It was so dark outside and since no cars were driving along the street, I couldn’t see. The air outside was just as humid as it had been on the back porch of the house. The stars were hidden under a thick blanket of clouds and I couldn’t see anything more than five feet away from me.
The only way to get home would be to try and find my way back to the house where the party was. The problem was that I had ran for about twenty minutes and taken a few turns. Usually I would be able to trace my steps, but I had been so emotionally overloaded.

I still was emotionally overloaded and I knew this when I heard sobs still flowing out of my body. Tears were flowing down my face, gathering at the corner of my lips, and they wouldn’t stop. I hated that I got so hurt over what he had said and he was probably drunk at the time. Drunken insults were nothing so why did I care so much?
I pondered the possibilities the entire way back to the house with the party. Eventually I found it-about an hour later-and when I walked up to the front door, Oliver walked out. At first he didn’t see me and I tried to back away slowly so that he never did. But he did see me and when he did, he grabbed me by my arm and pulled me in front of him. No one was outside and for that I was happy. I didn’t want anyone to see me break down.

He took in my appearance; the tear-stained face, the red and blotchy eyes, the no longer wavy hair, the eye makeup scurrying down my face and his eyes widened. I bit down on my bottom lip and turned my face from his inspecting gaze. "Kara…I…"
"Please don’t," I begged, not being able to hear his voice any longer. He no longer sounded trashed. He sounded exhausted. I wasn’t in the mood to hear him say how right he was, how he had such a huge impact on me.
But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled me against him and gave me a sweet hug. At first I wanted to pull away and I started to, but his grip around me tightened. So I let myself melt against his hard chest. I buried my face on his sternum and closed my eyes, let myself enjoy being next to him. And for once, I felt comforted. No one had ever tried to comfort me before.

I couldn’t exactly fathom what was going on his mind except for guilt. He probably felt bad for making a girl cry and he didn’t want to seem like a jerk. His intentions were probably still the same--get in my pants--but for once, I just didn’t even care. I let my body do what it wanted and apparently what I wanted was to let Oliver hold me.
His words raced through my mind as he held me and I felt tears start to build up again. I hadn’t cried since the day my mom died. After that day I hadn’t let myself cry again; I had wanted to be strong. But there was something about Oliver that just broke down that wall between my emotions and my actions.

Around him, I felt so vulnerable. I felt like I was his little puppet sometimes; that he could make me do whatever he wanted. All he had to do was kiss me and I was his. I hated that feeling; the feeling that I was no longer controlling myself.
"Kara, I’m sorry…I didn’t…" he murmured when he pulled away from our embrace. When he pulled away I thought that I had done something wrong. Wouldn’t he want to hold me since I’m a girl? I mean, he’s just about the physical right? So why did he pull away?

"It’s fine," I told him. "I um…I need to go get Claire…she has curfew…" I stammered and then felt like the worlds biggest idiot. His grip was still on my arm and when I said that, his eyebrows furrowed.
"She’s smashed and you shouldn’t drive. Let me drive you home," he said and I shook my head. It was a knee-jerk reaction. I hated how sweet and sincere he sounded. I knew he would screw it all up next time I saw him.
I said, "I can drive fine."

He put his hand on my cheek and made me look at him. I hadn’t even noticed I had been staring at the door like it was my eternal savior. My feet shuffled beneath me and the tears started threatening again. How come every time I looked at him I got all teary-eyed? "Let me drive you home…" he pleaded.
I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded my head. "Let me go tell Claire," I whispered, remembering how pissed she had been last time I abandoned her at a party. His hand fell from my cheek as I maneuvered myself towards the door, and then he told me to stop.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and then handed them to me. He said, "I’ll go tell her. Go get in the truck, okay?"
"What are you? The boss?" I asked rudely.
He smirked and replied, "Nice to see you’re somewhat back to normal."
As much as I didn’t want to, I smiled back, and then walked down the stairs and over to his big black truck. I pressed the unlock button on his key ring and saw the lights flash and briefly illuminate the street. I walked over to the passenger side, opened the door, and stepped on the step so that I could get in.

His car smelled just like he did. That was the first thing I noticed. As I reached over the driver’s seat so that I could turn the truck on, the smell became even more palpable. I sighed; this drive home was going to be a weird one. For starters, I was obsessed with the smell of his car and second, it was spontaneous. I didn’t do very well with unexpected things.
The truck roared to life after I turned the key and I rested my head against the head rest behind me. I was exhausted. I just wanted to sleep. But I knew that when Oliver got into the truck, I would no longer be so tired. In fact, I’d probably be a tad bit energetic.

And of course, as soon as he climbed in beside me, my heart rate picked up and my eyes were no longer droopy. Wow. I should have been so mad at him for everything he had said to me tonight, bur I wasn’t. That was what made me so mad at myself.
I thought he would say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned the radio on low volume and he slowly pulled away from the house. I was surprised to find out that Oliver was a very good driver. He looked over at me and whispered, "You can go to sleep if you want. Isn’t the drive pretty far?"
"And have you do something that I wouldn’t let you do if I was conscious? No thanks."
He chuckled and then said, "The things you think I would do are preposterous, but fine. But this way, you have to listen to me talk the whole way."
"Aren’t you tired?" I asked him, looking over at his profile. He was dark except for when a passing car shown their lights on him. He looked intent on watching the road, and I liked how safe I felt with him driving.
"Not really," he said, giving me a quick smile before resting his eyes once more on the road. His face turned serious when he told me a minute later, "I’m really sorry about earlier."

I sighed; why did he have to bring that up again? I looked out of my window and said, "Not a big deal."
"But you…you looked…Kara, I’ve never seen you look like that before…" he managed to spit out and I could tell it was painful for him to talk about this. But he wanted to talk about it. He wanted to make sure everything was okay between us. Yeah, because everything up until now had been so smooth, I thought sarcastically to myself.
"You barely know me," I pointed out and then looked over at him. He grimaced and then I said, "You don’t know me as well as you think you do."
Before I could understand what he was doing, he put on his right blinker, checked over his head, and then swerved onto the side of the road. "What are you…?" I asked him and then saw him put the truck into park.

He turned his head to face me and he said seriously, "Let me get to know you, then. I think I’ve made it pretty obvious that I want to get to know you, but you don’t let me."
"I can’t," I muttered ingenuously.
"Why not?" he asked me, turning around in his seat, "You don’t have to tell me everything tonight…just tell me something."
"Fine, what do you want to know?" I huffed and then prayed it wasn’t why I had seemed so uptight when he had mentioned my mom that night at the mall.
He asked me, "Are you afraid to let people see the real you?"
I looked at him intently, trying to figure out whether or not that question had just escaped his lips. It was so out of the blue that I found myself having a problem forming a response. So instead I asked him, "What kind of question is that?"
"A good one," he replied smiling. "Now answer."

I was silent as I tried to formulate a response. The truth was that I was. I wanted everyone to think I was perfect. I didn’t want people to know about my mom killing herself because she wasn’t happy. I didn’t want people to know about my dad being a homebody wreck. I didn’t want people to know how my brother secretly strived for my dad’s appreciation of him even though he never got it. I didn’t want people to know that I had thrown out everything of my mom’s the day after she died because she had ruined our family. I didn’t want people to know I hated her.
I didn’t want people to know I wasn’t perfect.
"Ask a new question," I told him and then he shook his head. "Yes!" I exclaimed stubbornly. I wasn’t going to budge on that question; it was too personal. He shook his head again and then motioned with his hands for me to continue. "I’m not answering."
"Fine, we’re not leaving this spot until you do, though."
"Fine!" I brooded and then crossed my arms over my chest. "I’m going to sleep, then. And don’t touch me."

I unbuckled my seat belt and then climbed into the small backseat. I could have sworn he stared at my butt as I did, but I just didn’t care right now. If I was going to pretend to sleep, I might as well be comfortable. There was no way I could have been comfortable pretending to sleep in the passenger’s seat.
He had his letterman’s jacket on the floor of the back seat and I told him I was using it as a blanket. I lay down on the seat facing the front of the truck and then slipped the jacket over my legs. It wasn’t that I was cold; it was that the skirt didn’t cover much of my legs. But now was not a good time to regret my wardrobe selection.
"Night," I said and then dramatically yawned. He chuckled and then after a second he asked, "Won’t your dad get worried?"

"Nope," I said. He’d actually be happy because then he wouldn’t have to go to bed. Then the bastard turned the air conditioner on full blast. The jacket wasn’t going to cut it for very long.
After a few more moments of silence and me pretending to sleep, Oliver asked me, "So you’re really not going to answer?"
"Really," I finalized and then sunk down further into the seat. I was actually starting to get kind of comfortable.

He said, "So we’re going to stay in this car forever?"
"Forever," I repeated. To tell you the truth, the car was freezing me inside and out and I was starting to get hungry, but I would never give up. I wasn’t going to answer that question. If I answered it then Oliver would know something personable about me. I wasn’t ready for that.
I heard him stir in front of me, but I didn’t think anything of it until I felt his presence far too close to me. I opened my eyes and they widened when I saw how close he had gotten. "What are you doing?" I breathed, ignoring the pleasant feeling when his pointer finger started to make circles on my cheek.
He smirked and said, "If we’re going to be in this truck forever, why not do something to pass time?"

"Like sleep," I recommended and then pushed against his shoulder. He sat down on the floor of the back seat and was leaning his torso against the actual seat. He was way too close.
"That’s not exactly what I had in mind," he suggested and then leaned down to kiss me.
I turned my head and said, "If you promise to take me home after this, I’ll kiss you."
"Promise?" he asked, excitement seeping into his eyes.
I held out my pinky for him to take and then he wrapped his around mine and we shook. "Promise," I said and then did something I never would have thought I’d do. I kissed him.
On the cheek.
He rolled his eyes when I pulled away and I had a smile on my face. I had finally pulled a fast one on him. The roles had been reversed. Usually, it was he who pissed me off, but tonight, I pissed him off. Ha!

"That doesn’t count," he pouted and then leaned his face in even closer to mine. Something was in the air of that truck. I didn’t know if it was something in the air conditioner or if it was how the boy smelled. But God, I wanted to kiss him.
I so did, but I wasn’t going to let myself. I couldn’t let myself. Guys were a waste of time. His words echoed in my head, "You’re nothing but a cold, heartless bitch," and I closed my eyes and turned my head to face the back of the seat.
"I’m a bitch, remember? Go kiss someone who isn’t cold and heartless," I mumbled and then turned my body to face the back of the seat. For a while there, I had forgotten all about what he had said to me. But thank goodness I had remembered. I had been getting pretty close to giving in there.
He sighed next to me and then started to stroke my hair. Wow. This boy never gave up. He said, "I said I was sorry. You just…you said the exact words that push my buttons and I blew up."

"So did you," I told him. Well, actually, I told the seat, because I wasn’t even facing Oliver anymore. And my eyes were still closed. He had said the exact words to make me remember that I did have problems; that I couldn’t escape them.
He said, "Well if you tell me why those words hurt you so much, I won’t ever say them again."
I turned my face to face him and opened my eyes. His face was serious. I said, "Yeah, right. You would say them just because you’re that evil."
The ends of his mouth tugged down, but he didn’t let it affect him. He told me, "If I knew something would hurt you, I wouldn’t do it. I’m not evil like you think I am." I gave him a doubtful look and he sighed. He whispered, "What’s something that you’ve never told anyone before?"

"Why would I tell you?" I asked him.
"Because I want to be special. Tell me one thing that no one else knows," he pleaded and then wrapped a piece of my hair around his finger. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Was he telling the truth or was he just trying to make me kiss him?
I raked through my mind for something I could tell him that wasn’t important. But then I found it. I hadn’t told anyone and no one had taken a picture. "We kissed that night at the mall," I told him.
A grin took over his face and he looked down at me. "You never told anyone?"
"That’s not something worth bragging about."
He laughed and said, "Ouch."

I couldn’t help it; I smiled at him. We both looked so dorky. We were smiling like crazy people at each other. He pointed out, "You look really happy when you smile." I rolled my eyes at him and then he pointed at them. He scolded, "If your eyes get stuck back there, I’m going to be pissed."
"Why would you be pissed?" I asked him, baffled. Wouldn’t I be the one angry if my eyes got stuck? I wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing!
He touched my eyelid and said, "Because I really like your eyes."
"You’re really corny, you know that?" I teased, trying to get over how much I liked that he liked my eyes. I had always hated my eyes; they were huge. They made me look like a bug.

"Fine, I’ll insult you then!" he exclaimed. "You’re a fat ass!"
"You’re nose is funny-shaped!" I giggled and then watched him cover his actually perfect nose with his big hand. He stuck his tongue out at me and it caused me to laugh even more.
It was an odd feeling, but I was actually having…fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed this much or felt this good. And of all people, I was having fun with Oliver Carter: the guy who broke girls’ hearts, who loved to drink, and who was cockier than Kanye West. Wow, there was a shocker.
He told me, "I like your laugh."