Damaged Gods

“Fuck your groceries! That Jeep is the only thing I own! They can’t tow it! I can’t get it out! I don’t have impound money! And I can’t even leave here.”

I hold up a finger. “You can leave here. Remember?”

“If I put on the ring.”

“Exactly.” I smile, satisfied. “If. You put on the ring.”

She glares at me. And her face goes dark as I watch her. “You did this.” Her voice is low. Growly. “You did this, didn’t you? You got the sheriff out here to tow my Jeep so I’d be forced to put that stupid ring on.”

“Woman, how the hell would I get the sheriff out here? There is no phone. I can’t leave unless I’m with you. You’re losing your fucking mind because you know you have to put that ring on and there is no way out. And let’s get this straight right now—I’m not the one fucking up your life. You’re the one fucking up my life. You’re here and no one trapped you. You came of your own accord. So do you want that car or not? Because if you don’t go take care of this, you’ll be walking into town for groceries and it’s a nineteen-mile hike.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I hate you.”

“Back atcha.”

“OK, OK, OK.” Tomas slides between us, one palm pointed at me, one palm pointed at her. “We’re all we’ve got, kids. We don’t hate each other. But Pie, seriously. You do need your car.”

“No shit,” she scoffs.

“So…” Tomas pauses. Like she’s about to turn into a reasonable person before his eyes and realize she needs to put the ring on.

He’s always been a dreamer.

“So? So what?” she snaps.

“So…” he tries again. “Put the ring on, Pie. Go out there, tell him it’s your car, and handle this shit.”

She purses her lips. Taps her boot on the marble floor. Puts her hands on her hips. Huffs. “We’ll see,” she says. Then she turns, momentarily gets confused as to how to leave the dining room, then picks a direction—

“Not that way,” Tomas calls.

I just shake my head and look skyward, asking for patience.

“Come on.” Tomas takes her hand. “I’ll show you how to get back to the great hall. It’s tricky,” he says as he leads her out. “The hallways…” Then his voice trails off.

I follow, reluctantly. But it’s not like I have anything better to do. Tomas is getting very hands-y with this girl. I’m sure he’s enjoying her immensely and I am starting to get the feeling that Tomas thinks that he and this girl will have something special.

Good. Good for him. If he wants to cozy up to her, fine with me. She’s not my type at all.

When we get back to the main hall, Tomas and the girl are looking out one of the tall skinny windows that face front.

I join them and all three of us watch as a sketchy-looking tow-truck driver slides under her car to hook it up.

“Better get that ring on quick,” I taunt. “You’re about to lose everything.”

Her head turns to the side. “You’re an asshole. And I don’t need to put the ring on. I can have this conversation through the gate.”

And with that, she turns to the door. Pulls it open and walks out.

Tomas and I look at each other, smirking.

He sighs. “She’s…”

“Insane? Dumb? Obstinate?”

“I was going to say… eternally hopeful.” He snickers. “But she’ll learn.”

“They always do.” I cross my arms and wait for her illumination to happen before my eyes.

CHAPTER EIGHT - PIE

I walk out the door and the sunshine hits me in the face. I feel like I’ve been cloistered away for decades and it’s only been one night. I want to believe that this is all a bad dream, and I was holding out hope this morning, but this isn’t a delusion. And even if it is, while I’m living the delusion, I need to outsmart it. I need to be one step ahead. Hell, ten steps. I need to make good decisions and weigh every one of them carefully. Because it’s all a trap. I can just feel it.

The sheriff hasn’t noticed me yet and the tow truck driver is too busy hooking my Jeep up to a very questionable truck. Maybe my Jeep is nothing special, but it’s my baby. And picturing it rattling behind that clunker is giving me heart palpitations.

Once I’m halfway down the path I call out, “Hello! You can stop now. I’m here.”

None of them turn to look at me.

“Hey!” I call out, louder now. “I said you can stop. That’s my Jeep. I live… here.” That was hard to say. “Hello?”

They don’t even look at me.

In fact, it’s like they don’t even see me.

“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no, no, no. This is not happening.” Am I invisible? “Hey! Dickface sheriff! You’re an ugly—” I stop. It’s very apparent that I do not exist without that ring on my finger. But aside from that, I was going to call the sheriff ugly. And… he’s not ugly. Like. At all. He’s… “Wow.” He’s fucking hot.