On the Run - M Zeigler (philippa perry book .txt) 📗

it is exactly but I can feel the souls of people long since past when I’m out there all alone, that or I truly am bound for a mental ward.

“What happened to you Bonnie Liz? I’ve never met anyone so opposed to religion, or authority.”  Barrette asks as were walking across the rocks beside the bridge heading to the underside where I am more hidden and can better hear the river gurgling.

“When I was living with Michael and Angeline in that dirty, disgusting, dust bowl, hellish…the people around the area treated me different because I didn’t wear skirts, or mind a woman’s place. I didn’t fit in with the guys either because I am a rock ‘n’ roller, I didn’t wear the right clothes, I didn’t act the way everyone else did. Most days, the people in that county treated me worse than Michael, I could ignore my step father because I knew he was saying it intentionally to hurt me. These other people were saying it because they judged me based on appearance. Just to find a job, I had to start wearing girly clothes and talking like they did, drab, no personality, rude, and preaching false words of the bible at everyone else. I couldn’t even walk the streets during the day because I’d have people shouting at me to get out of town, others would glare, some through things at me. A few of the men from church even tried drowning me in the fountain in the mission court yard.” I explain to Barrette after making myself comfortable under the bridge.

“So you have associated religion and God with hate, and anger?” Barrette says starting to understand a good part of what is wrong with me. “Maybe, I don’t even know. I’m not normal, I could even be hateful of the good book because I don’t like nor listen to rules.” I reply, I don’t exactly feel sad about this discussion, I’m not anxious anymore either, I’m curious. I’ve never really paid enough attention to myself to figure out why I have the problems that I do.

I’m not like most that will point out problems that other’s have and not recognize my own, I know I’m not perfect, I am well aware of my flaws I just don’t know exactly what is wrong with me. Maybe that is a problem with all people, we don’t ever want to admit that there is something flawed in our personalities, a negative trait, or lack of self respect.

“You’ll get there Bonners.” Barrette says trying a third pet name for me, I can’t let him use Bonners though, my cousins would be very upset if he took that one. “I like Bon better.” I say with a very light laugh.

“Is that so? Bon, it is then.” Barrette chuckles, I can’t stand this heavy conversation anymore, I’ve had my bipolar moment for the day, I’m hungry and I’m sure barrette is to. We should head into town before its dark, there is no street lights out here and these roads are dangerous enough during the day.

“Hey B?” I prompt using a shortened name for him. “Yeah?” He replies, with a sigh I stand up. “You know I’m not doing this job because of Devon right?” I say taking the necessary steps to walk back towards the trail.

“Then why are you on this case?” Barrette asks as he follows me up the trail to the bridge, half way across the bridge I stop and turn around to face the man who saved my life.  “Repaying the favor.” I reply to Barrette, who knows what I mean, he saved me, so I’m protecting him from Devon. I bet he never thought that it would be a woman stepping up to the plate to stop his attempted murderer.

“Where are we going?” Barrette asks as I pull into a parking lot beside an arch roofed brick building which is the general store here in Nevada City, right across the street from the diner and general store is an outdoor sporting goods store that will have burner phones which we will need since Devon can easily track Barrette’s phone.

 “Ya know Barrette, just because you’re in the woman’s seat doesn’t mean you have to act like a woman.” My teasing is replied with equal taunting sarcasm, Barrette’s raise to a squeak when he replies.

“What baby? I just wanna know where we’re going; I might need a jacket or something.” Barrettes voice floats to me from where he is standing, now outside the passenger’s door of the Mustang.  His attitude carried a valley girl tinge to his sudden strange pitchy voice; both of us erupt into loud laughter. The laughter doubles when I start to take a step forward, advancing towards the market and trip over the parking brick in front of my car. After that cute performance Barrette really deserves an answer, I have to hand it to him; he can be cute when he wants to be. In my opinion cute doesn’t suite him, Barrette needs to stick with his two personalities. There is bad boy Barrette who will give you the beat down of a lifetime should you cross him or hurt someone else wrongfully, bad boy Barrette has been arrested many times and has no issues doing time again if it means doing the right thing. Then we have the reformed Barrette, or the good guy, he tries to stay out of trouble, gives his best effort everyday to do right by himself and everyone around him.

I personally like a man that stands right in the middle, which is what Barrette does, he stands in the center, his path depends on the behavior of those around him. Michael is a prime example, if you put hands on a woman, then you had better start running because he will put the fear of God in you before you can even realize you’ve messed up royally.

 “We need burner phones, Ammo, and fire wood.” I finally answer Barrette’s question as he’s pulling me up off the hard pavement. He still has an amused smile on his face, there’s a spark of laughter in his eyes, not really centered on the fact I fell but rather the fact that I am normally graceful in a cat like way. Which with all frankness really makes me tripping and falling hilarious; I mean honestly that would be like watching a ballerina slam the dance floor tripping over a swan!

“I didn’t realize we were going that far off the grid.” Barrette mutters quietly when I’m on my own two feet and dusting pine nettles and other debris off the seat of my leather pants. “We cannot chance Devon catching us until we are ready for him to catch up.” I reply to Barrette as we approach the store finding a sinister feeling with the very pressing issue of Devon being after him, and now after me for medaling in his affairs.

At the door Barrette reaches forward to the cheap metallic looking door handle and opens the door beckoning for me to enter ahead of him. I look at the handle where his hand is holding it open by the corner then up at him blinking a few times confusedly. Barrette looks at me then looks inside the store then back at me, his expression says that I should understand what he is doing but I don’t. Or rather I’m not used to what he is doing, this simple act is so foreign to me it seems an exotic act from another culture in some third world country.

I’m used to Michael, or men in general stepping in first and letting the door slam in my face, I am used to having to catch the door or simply open it for myself. Have I really been treated so poorly I can’t even pretend to understand what kindness is? Apparently so, even with that said, I am still able to learn and grow, isn’t that what the future is about? Learning new things, striving every day to be the best that we can be and essentially becoming what we dream of being, or do what we dreamt of doing? I can’t place the bands title right now, but there’s an amazing guitarist who once told me through a literature piece that If you can dream it, you can have it. Strangely, the words have carried with me for many years but the name of the artist hasn’t.

“Ladies first?” Barrette offers politely, my eyes don’t leave his as I enter the store, I keep waiting for him or someone else to hurt me. Michael pulled that all the time, once in a great while when we had company around he would put up a nice front and hold the door for me. Then as soon as the guests weren’t looking he would shoulder by me and usually knock me to the ground. After that happening so many times one tends to become paranoid, with that said I still feel guilty thinking that Barrette would do something so mean.

 “Oh, sorry not used to men being polite.” I reply still sounding perplexed and confused, the panic I felt earlier at the Oregon Trail Bridge starts to come back. I force the emotions aside as I take in the appearance here within the mini market. As predicted the place hasn’t changed at all, there are still only four aisles in the entire place and everything is just as I remember it.

 I make my way straight for the aisle where I remember the lighters to be then looking back for Barrette who is standing just inside the door watching after me with a really sad and confused expression in his eye. He has this deep thinking expression on his face with his arms crossed over his chest; he apparently does that quite often when he’s deep in thought. I know what he’s thinking, I just refuse to admit it; he wants to know what has turned me into the person I am today and not just the illusive truth.

He doesn’t want the truth though, I don’t even want the truth, because that story hurts Anna, it hurts so many people who have known me for many years. Anna doesn’t push me to remember what happened in the San Diego house, she knows what happened there, she lived with me at the time. I have forced myself to forget, those memories, that torture had me placed in a psychiatric hospital once. I’m afraid if I remember everything that happened in that house, if I remember my blood being spattered on those porcelain white walls then I will end up right back in a mental hospital. I’ve already told my mother and everyone around me that I will die before I go back there. Then again, deep down I know that I belong in a mental hospital, I’m a mental case that pretends to be okay so I don’t have to go back. All joking aside, I’m a ticking time bomb, one day someone will take a swift stab at those memories and that’s it my mind will be in ruins.

A terrified tremor runs through my body just at the sheer thought of the San Diego house, there were a mixture of good and bad memories in that place. But the bad outweighs the good, I cannot even step foot in San Diego County without feeling terrified. Deciding not to push my mind any further I grab a few packs of lighters when I feel Barrette standing directly behind me, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his massive form.

 “If you’re going to be my shadow then you better have remembered a basket.” I comment to Barrette as I walk away from him and down the aisle over to the camping goods section. On this aisle I also find a two pack of Flint rocks