Racing for Freedom - By Bec Botefuhr Page 0,33
is not for you, stay away or…”
“Or what?” I hiss. “What are you going to do?”
“You aren’t making this easy, do as I say…”
“No, I won’t do anything you say. I despise you and I am sick of you threatening me every chance you can. Slade is a grown man and he can make his own choices, why don’t you go and threaten him!”
“He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Tell me what?” I hiss.
Michael chuckles and it sends shivers up my spine.
“He didn’t tell you what happened that night, why he ran away?”
My skin prickles and I close my eyes to try and calm myself. He’s trying to wind me up, that’s all.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Slade told me you were already going to leave with him.”
“Yeah we were, but not for a few months. The idiot stuffed it all up for himself that night and we were forced to leave the next day,” he says, then he leans down closer and whispers. “He drove home that night, drunk. He caused a traffic jam when he pulled up on the road because he was too inebriated to drive. Your mother and father…”
“No,” I cry.
“Your mother and father were driving home and didn’t see all the cars stopped, your father slammed right into them and your mother was lurched forward and hit her head so hard on the dashboard she died instantly. Those cars were stopped because of Slade.”
“No,” I whimper.
It’s not true. It can’t be true. I swallow the bile that rises in my throat, no…no…it’s a lie. He made it up. He lied. He’s lying.
“Now let’s see how much you care about him.”
He laughs and walks off, leaving me numb and shaking. I rock backwards and forwards, trying to process what just happened. It can’t be true. It can’t be true. Slade wouldn’t…he wouldn’t…he would have told me. He would have told me. Tears flow down my cheeks and I skid my chair back so quickly it smashes into a table behind me. The room falls silent. With trembling legs, I walk over to Slade, who is now staring at me wearily.
“Is it true?” I whisper when I reach him.
“What?”
“That night…you…drink driving…my parents.”
His face pales and it’s answer enough for me. I pull my hand back and I punch him so hard the crack echoes through the hall.
“HOW COULD YOU!?” I scream.
“Dash,” he whispers. “Please listen…”
“Go to hell!”
Chapter Twenty Three
It’s pouring rain and I’m running down the street, trembling with rage and emotion. Slade is the reason she’s dead. Slade…Slade. It’s all his fault? No, god no, it can’t be. I hear the sound of the charger pull up beside me when I’m a few blocks down, but I don’t stop. I can’t look at him right now. I can’t.
“Dash, get in the car.”
I keep running, my hair is stuck to my face and I’m freezing. From the inside out, I’m cold and depressed. Slade pulls the car over and leaps out, running over and gripping me. I punch his chest over and over, pummeling my tiny fists into him.
“HOW COULD YOU?” I scream.
“Dash, please, listen.”
“You killed them!”
“No, god, no Dasha. I didn’t.”
“You did, you were drunk, you caused that line up!”
He grips me and shakes me so hard my teeth rattle together. I reach up and slap him, then I raise my hand to do it again but he grips it. He drags me over to his car and opens the back door, shoving me in. I struggle and scream, I don’t want to listen to him. He shoves me down onto the seat and firmly puts his body over mine. I struggle and squirm, but he’s too heavy. He leans over and pulls the door shut behind us.
“Let go of me Slade, get off me!”
“No,” he whispers. “Not until you listen.”
“I don’t want to listen!” I scream. “I hate you.”
“It wasn’t me, Dasha! It wasn’t my fault.”
“It was your fault.”
I could see the torture in his eyes when he said the next words.
“No, it was your dads.”
I reach up to slap him again but he pins my hands above my head. My body is squirming beneath his, but he won’t budge. His body is hard over mine and we’re both soaked. He lowers his face down and I can smell him. God dammit, I hate him, I do. I do. I do.
“You will listen to me Dasha, because it’s time this came out. It wasn’t my fault that happened. I was going slow, yes, I