Page 6 of Born to Scar

“Fuck off, Jared,” I snap. Kia falls over laughing, and Jared’s hands rise in front of him in surrender. I grab another glass while Micky cleans the mess I made from the first one. I pour another bourbon and down it.

“Fuck, she’s going to be torn up if she doesn’t stop. How the hell am I supposed to get her home?” Micky mutters.

I’m not a big drinker. I prefer drugs, sometimes, recreationally—never really alcohol. It makes me feel like shit. But it’s all I have right now.

“I can help.” Cam looks at me. His eyes are almost pleading. “You won’t get a new bike any quicker, but I can help you get the payout.”

“What do you not understand when I tell you I have no fucking money for this?”

“You don’t need money.”

I laugh a full belly laugh. “Everything costs something, Mr. Beck.”

He shakes his head. “I was here—I saw it happen. They’ll most likely listen to me. It probably won’t even go to court,” he states with a pause. “And if it does, I can make it so that you don’t have to be present.”

I shake my head. “Thanks, Cam. But I can’t accept your help.” I walk to the back, having the unbearable need to be alone, and sit at the desk in the office.

They’re still talking out there, but I can’t hear what they’re saying, and I don’t care. My phone pings. An unknown number pops up. Opening the text, I see it’s pictures of my bike, the SUV, the lighting, and the parking lot.

UNKNOWN: This is how you’ll get your money. Text me here if you change your mind.

Closing it out, I sigh and stand. As I walk past the bar, everyone’s gaze is on my skin before I’m out the door. The new driver and vehicle are outside, along with the tow truck hooking up the other. I can’t help but laugh as my bike lies on the ground, smashed into shit. I flip them off as I walk away.

“Indy, where are you going?” Bik’s voice is far away. I don’t answer. I just walk.

I’m not sure how long I have been walking before a car slows beside me. Looking over my shoulder, I notice that it’s the SUV from the hotel.

“Why can’t I get away from you fucks?” I ask through the descending window.

“This is dangerous.” Cam’s voice comes from the other side.

“Do I look like someone who gives a fuck?” They creep forward alongside me.

“Get in, Indy. I can take you where you are going.”

“I don’t know where I am going.”

He chuckles. The sound pisses me off more than it should. Abruptly stopping, I glare inside.

“What. Do. You. Want?” I sneer.

“For you to get in.”

“Leave me alone.” I start walking again while the car slowly rolls beside me. “Jesus, you’re not going to stop, are you?” I snap.

“No.”

I roll my shoulders and clench my teeth. “Fine,” I grit out and grab the door, snatching it open. Cam quickly scoots over to the other side.

“Where to?” the driver asks.

The old man who hit my bike is in the front seat. My eyes narrow at him, and my face drops even more.

“You know this area?” He nods. “Britton Cemetery.”

“Ma’am, there is nothing around there.”

“I’m going to the cemetery.”