Chapter 14 - The end of the journey

Cora sat patiently as Dean reversed into the main road, escaping the cliff view.

She had many questions for him, like a child would their favourite movie character. A continuing thought was their journey: although he had taken her to a graveyard and warned her that he had the power to make her rot within it, she wasn't left shivering in fear. Beating at a steady pace, her heart remained normal alongside the minimal production of anxious thoughts.

He turned the radio on, a melodic rap song with a calming beat filled the car. She couldn't prevent her lips from curling up as she recognised the song immediately, one she knew well. Dean was oblivious to this and kept his abnormally plain expression.

"I have another question." I announced, the music was quiet so I thankfully didn't have to shout.

"Why don't you fight back at school when you get tormented, it's not like you can't fight or stand up for yourself?" I pressed, watching his chest rise and fall at my question.

"If I were to participate in another fight, i'd get kicked out. Because of my past charges, the police would continue to investigate me, which could put my father at risk and we'd go to jail." He shrugged.

He then turned to give me a devilish grin.

"They couldn't handle me anyway, not with my experience." His eyes darkened and he casually looked back at the road. It was extremely ironic, the guys at school would call him many things synonymous with 'coward' and yet the side I saw of him was the exact opposite.

I rolled my eyes, slightly disgusted by his smugness in regards to his strength during brawls.

"What about your bruises then ?" I asked innocently, knowing that he would feel idiotic for presenting himself as tough when he clearly lost a few fights.

"I was outnumbered and some people just don't play fairly." He shook his head, recalling the occasion with a certain look in his eyes and a grin. Cockiness. He was clearly proud that he had lasted the fight.

I tilted my head and looked at him with confusion.

"What ?" He chuckled, looking to and from the road and me. I shook my head and looked at the road too, the glimmering sunset casting a golden hue on all beneath it.

"You smile at the strangest things." I sighed, picking up my phone to check the time. We left school at three and it was now four in the evening, yet our journey felt more like a mere second.

"I didn't mean to drag you out for this long." He stated bitterly, seeing that I had checked the time, as though it had hurt his feelings.

"Why did you bring me out here in the first place? I know we needed somewhere quiet to talk but sitting in the car within the school car park would have sufficed." He clearly hadn't expected my question as it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You know a lot and my dad didn't like that. I was going to find some other way to scare you a little into keeping quiet but you came to me first, so here we are." He simply explained. It made sense actually, this wasn't a bonding trip but an order from his father. And for a moment, I dared to believe we could possibly get along. Or be friends.

I nodded, comprehending the situation.

"Do you enjoy working at Goose and Gospel?" He queried, turning on the roundabout outside our town.

"Not really." I bit my cheek, recalling the men that knew no boundaries and the women who had no manners.

"Then why not quit? Just take the money your parents have offered for university, you can always pay them back in the future." He blurted, recalling my conversation with his father, looking at me like I was an idiot for not thinking of such an idea. I sighed both internally and externally at the mention of my parents.

"It's not honest money and I just want to live a life without any ties connected to such things." I admitted honestly which shocked me. I had hid myself from everyone and the way I answered his question with truth and haste, felt strange but relieving: the truth felt lighter.

"Fair enough." He uttered, bitterness seeping through.

"Do you have any plans after this school year ?" I continued quizzing him with a variety of questions, I had not finished and yet we were almost at my house.

"There was this plan that -" He paused.

"- well, not really. I'll probably be working with my dad." He suggested.

Something didn't sit right. There was something more about him, something he hid. As though he was reading a script, his answers were detailed but vague in terms of an actual response that answered my questions.

My hands were originally in between my thighs due to how cold it was, but as I had warmed up, I began to play with the strings of the rips in my jeans. I wondered what he thought of my attire as, for the most part, he wore stylish clothing that screamed wealth and formalness. I, on the other hand, was a common daughter to a low-status criminal that risked his freedom for the sake of a couple thousand or less. We were not poor, but we definitely weren't comfortable with our financial status.

I examined the interior of his car, my eyes trailed along the print of the leather seats and widened at the sight of the many buttons and lights within the car. It felt like I had only just sat inside it as I was originally too preoccupied with his presence.

"It's not worth the money." He confessed, bringing my out of my thoughts and back to the present.

"I don't think even want to think about how many shift's I would have to work to afford it." I joked, my street was now in my view and I was amused by the comparison between my neighbours cars and Dean's.

"Ironically, the thing I want the most in life is something money cant buy." He confessed with resentment. We were now pulling up to my house which was odd, as he hadn't asked me for directions.

"And that is ?" I pressed, completely curious and on edge. He parked the car beside my fathers and tapped on his wheel using his index finger a couple times.

"Freedom." His answer echoed in my mind as I truly didn't expect it: I related to him. He was forced and encased into the criminal lifestyle by his father: mentally trapped by the scenes he had witnessed and taken part in. I was expected to keep quiet and deal with the memories that gnawed on my mind in private: a mask to be worn each day with the brightest of smiles that would please others.

"Cora." He whispered, pulling me from my thoughts again. I shot him a confused look as he began reversing from the parking position without letting me out. Automatically my arm flew to the door handle inside the car.

"Some policemen are leaving your house, we can't be here." He reported and sped from my house. I watched with a heavy heart, mentally pleading my father to have not been taken again. The policemen were empty handed and waved at my mother and father from the door, that's all I could make out before we sped away. I wasn't sure if I had even witnessed the scene properly.

"He said he would stop you know. Whilst he was in jail, he said things would be different and better but he lied to me as easily as he did before I knew what he did." I explained for my own sake, I need to hear someone else rather than my mother react to my situation.

"Do you think they're investigating him again ?" He asked with a serious tone and now driving at a normal speed. I processed his question momentarily before answering.

"I don't know Dean. They don't tell me much." I sighed. His question circled my mind and I began to entertain it as I thought of what could happen if he got taken again. My stomach dropped and old feelings crept back, the familiar stinging in my eyes arose.

"I see." He commented with a furrowed brow.

I grabbed my phone and messaged my father and mother, asking them why there were police outside our house. As my fingers swiftly moved on the screen, Dean made a turn into the car park at Clayton Park.

"Here, really ?" I huffed after seeing a couple bouquets of flowers for the man that passed recently.

He rolled his eyes and reached behind my seat for something. This was the closest we had been, the side of his face was inches from my own. I shifted away from him in my seat and stared at my phone, trying to ignore the pleasant smell of his cologne in my nostrils.

"Just call them if you're soo worried." He offered and I thought about it but that was paused when I saw the large black bag on his lap.

"It's my gym bag." He assured me, probably aware that I saw his bag as conspicuous.

My phone chimed and his eyes darted at me: I picked up the phone and my breathing slowed in pace.

"One of the policemen are my dad's friend, we can go back. It's okay." I smiled lightly and rested on the headrest. Dean followed my orders and in minutes I was home.

We had come to a stop, the car was quiet and so were we. The silence wasn't awkward, it was comforting. Perhaps I shouldn't feel this way sat beside someone with a dark past and future. I should be frightened, worried, disgusted.

"I'd thank you for this but that would be a bit undeserving, after all, you did take me to a graveyard and threaten me." I said, almost as a joke yet it wasn't. What happened was the truth and the truth was not frightening. I had slowly been accustomed to all things illegal and gruesome: finding the occasional gun at home, watching my mother clean my fathers wounds from 'falling at work', having to watch behind my back each day in fear of a detective or enemy of my fathers.

Dean was honest and he didn't hide his truth.

I frowned, realising I was congratulating a criminal for being honest about their crimes, as though it would make them a saint.

"It was my pleasure." He joked back. I slipped out of his car and shut the door, I didn't look back and wave as I would to my friends or wait until he left to go inside. I simply continued my strides until I reached the door to my house.