Chapter 2

Another cold midnight on the lonely road. His feet started to hurt from walking so long. His fingers were numb, the usual bite of the handles not affecting him at all.

A familiar growl started to gradually grow behind him. He pried his fingers from the handle of his guitar case, set it down, and slowly formed his hand into a hitchhikers thumb.

A small, blue car pulled aside just in front of where he was standing. The driver's side window rolled down, and the voice of a woman called out. "Hurry up and get in, before I change my mind. You can put your crap in the backseat."

Jonathan opened the backseat door and quickly, yet gently, put his guitar case and suitcase in the back. He then opened the passenger door and got in.

The woman looked young, no older than twenty-two, Jonathan's own age. A small cigarette was sticking out of her pale pink lips. Her skin was as pale as porcelain, and her left arm was decorated with the tattoo of a deep red broken heart, with three small blue circles around it. Her red velvet-colored hair, shorter than most boy's, complimented her hard, sky-blue eyes that strongly focused on the road ahead.

"I'm CeCe. CeCe Williams. Don't bother telling me your own name, I never like to find out anything that won't matter to me the next day. I'll take you to Andrewsburg, no further. You'll probably have left the town by sunrise. There's really no reason to stay there." She let out a slow breath of smoke. "...unless you're stuck."

Jonathan couldn't help but ask the obvious question. "Are you stuck?"

"I'll let you judge that for yourself," she said, her eyes never leaving the road.

Not knowing what to say, Jonathan shut his mouth and let silence rule the following hour to Andrewsburg.

* * *

Downtown Andrewsburg was smaller than expected. In consisted of of a lonely road that was old and cracked, a single stoplight whose red light had stopped working for a few years, sending the world into darkness every moment it was time for the cars to stop that were supposedly passing through, and a few buildings that looked as if they hadn't seen a paintbrush for many decades. The silence of the town was all he could hear. It was a stark contrast to his hometown, New York City, where even at night the air was filled with the sound of honking cars and police sirens.

CeCe dropped him in front of a formal dress store called Beauty. As if anyone needed prom dresses in the middle of nowhere. 

"If I were you, I'd leave this place as soon as you can," she said as she waited from him to pick up his guitar case and suitcase, "before you get stuck."

Jonathan nodded and squinted as her headlights brightened, then grew smaller in the darkness. Once his eyes became accustomed to the dimness, and he was no longer able to keep the silent beast in his stomach that was trying to feed on his insides out of his mind, he started walking towards the only diner in town. It was a small restaurant called Chris's that had an old, red neon sign with the h burned out. Walking in, he noticed the only other person there was a man in  his late forties, obviously drunk, who was weeping in the corner as if someone had forgot to turn off his faucet of tears.

Sitting down, he watched as the only waitress working this late at night walked over, her boredom plainly showing on her face. She was a Latino girl with long, coal black hair and chocolate brown eyes. Her name tag read "Maria".

He ordered chicken wings and a refillable Coke. The fries had looked tempting on the menu, but he knew he was running low on money, and he could only afford the basics. Waiting for the food, he stared at the black and white photos of the original owner on the wall, dug his nails into his wrist, and tried to ignore his stomach beast and the smell of delicious food that was beginning to waft from the kitchen.

When the wings finally arrived, he started shoving them into his mouth, chewing so violently his jaw started to ache, wincing whenever he accidentally bit his fingers or tongue in his race to fill his stomach. He stopped to throw down ice cold Coke down his throat, his first drink in what felt like many long, thirsty days.

After his body finally started to relax, he was able to slow down and savor the last few wings. As he put them into his mouth, the flavor started to explode on his tongue with the color of a good meal. The wings were delicious, especially compared to the wings back home. In New York City, they had seemed tasteless, like no one had thought to put passion into what they were cooking. Although that might have been because he had always been in a hurry, trying to get food into his system before he was needed again.

His stomach monster satisfied, he walked outside into the small, abandoned parking lot. He needed to find a place to sleep.

         Peering around the side of the restaurant, he found a grassy area hidden by a tall, majestic tree, perfect for sleeping.

He set his suitcase and guitar down, and lay down. He looked up at the shining starts aand wondered if Donte was up there. If he was, he was probably laughing that little laugh that sounded like twinkling faeries sharing their secrets to each other, secrets that no human could know, let alone comprehend. He might be singing songs of things he rarely had experineced in life, like peace and safety, and nothing of the pains and sorrows that were his constant companion before he died and was released from the world. Whatever he was doing, Jonathan was sure Donte was in the arms of whatever loving God existed. If one did exist.

 

* * *

He awoke with the sun shining brightly in his eyes. Why was it so bright...? It's not that late in the day, is it...?

As his eyes adjusted he realized it was not the sun, but a police flashlight, that was shining brightly in his face.