4. Ayla

4

AYLA

W ell, I left…now what?

The sun hangs low on the horizon, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink that bleed together like watercolors. It’s a breathtaking sight, but the beauty is lost on me as I stare out at the endless stretch of highway before me, my thoughts as heavy as the rumble of the truck’s engine.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, the leather warm and smooth beneath my touch. Shadow sits beside me, his steady presence a small comfort amidst the turmoil swirling inside me.

“Just you and me against the world, huh, buddy?” I murmur, reaching over to scratch behind his ears. He leans into my touch, his tail thumping against the seat.

For a moment, the simple action soothes me, but then the memories come crashing back in, sharp as shattered glass. I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.

The road blurs as hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink them away furiously, refusing to let them fall. Crying won’t change anything and won’t erase the scars that run deeper than skin. It won’t change the fact that I’m now all on my own.

Shadow whines softly, sensing my distress. He nuzzles his wet nose against my arm, his warm breath ghosting over my skin.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. But the words feel hollow, even to my own ears.

I crack the window, letting the wind rush in, whipping strands of hair across my face. I breathe deep, the scent of asphalt and diesel filling my lungs. It’s the smell of freedom, of a new beginning.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say to Shadow, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. “We always do.”

He rests his head on my thigh, his weight solid and grounding.

I crank up the volume on my playlist, the pulsing beat of the music thrumming through the speakers. It’s a desperate attempt to drown out the thoughts that swirl in my head like a brewing storm.

But even as the bass vibrates through my bones, I can’t escape the memories that claw at the edges of my mind. They spread like poison, tainting every thought with their bitterness.

I see my mother’s face, her eyes filled with desperate hope as she tells me she’s going back to Kyle. Back to the man who’s caused us nothing but pain. Back to the cycle of abuse and heartbreak that we’ve tried so hard to break free from.

“He’s changed,” she’d said, her voice trembling with a fragile conviction. “He promised it’ll be different this time.”

But I’ve heard those words one too many times, a broken record that skips and stutters, always circling back to the same old tune. I’ve seen the bruises that bloom on her skin like morbid flowers, the tears that streak down her face like acid rain.

Kyle is the definition of a bad man, and I can’t believe my mom has gone back to him — even though she knew it meant she’d lose me.

Anger surges through me, hot and fierce. It mingles with the disbelief that sits heavy in my gut, a sickening cocktail of emotions that makes my stomach churn.

I remember the nights spent huddled in my room, my pillow pressed over my ears to block out the shouting and the shattering of glass against the wall. The mornings after, the tense silence that hangs in the air like a suffocating fog, the carefully crafted lies that fall from my mother’s lips like shards of broken promises.

I remember the way Kyle would sit at the table with a cigarette between his lips, uncaring of the bruises he’d left on my mother the night before.

“Why can’t she see it?” I whisper, shaking my head. “Why does she keep going back?”

But even as the questions spill from my lips, I know the answers. I’ve seen the way Kyle manipulates her, the way he twists his words like a spider spinning a web, entrapping her in a maze of her own making.

I won’t be caught up with their life anymore…it’s time to live my own. Mom could make her own decisions, and if she chose to stay with him…that would be her own downfall. But I’m done. I’m putting as much distance between myself and the toxic cycle of abuse and heartache that I’ve been trapped in for so long.

“No more,” I whisper fiercely. “No more living in fear, no more waiting for the next blow to fall. No more.”

A sharp beep pierces the air, jolting me from my thoughts. My eyes dart to the dashboard, widening as I take in the blinking fuel light. The needle hovers dangerously close to empty.

“Damn it,” I mutter, my heart rate spiking as panic seeps into my veins. “Not now, not when we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Shadow whines softly, sensing my distress. I reach over to scratch behind his ears, scanning the horizon. For a moment, there’s nothing but the endless stretch of asphalt and the darkening sky above.

But then, I spot it. A gas station, its neon sign glowing.

Relief crashes over me, so intense it leaves me dizzy. I let out a shaky breath, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as I flick on my turn signal.

“Thank God,” I whisper, as I guide the truck towards the exit ramp.

I pull into the gas station, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across the cracked pavement.

The truck sputters to a stop, the engine coughing out one final gasp as I shift into park.

I climb out of the truck, the cool night air washing over my skin as I make my way towards the pump. The hum of the fluorescent lights and the distant whoosh of passing cars fill the silence, a strange sort of lullaby in the stillness of the night.

With shaking hands, I slide my card into the reader and wait for the familiar beep of approval. But instead, the screen flashes red, a harsh buzz filling the air.

“What the hell?” I mutter, frowning at the display. “Insufficient funds?”

Confusion swirls through me, mingling with a rising sense of panic. I know I have money in my account. I just checked it this morning. There’s no way I could have blown through thousands of dollars in a single day.

I try again, my fingers fumbling as I punch in my PIN. But the result is the same, the angry buzz of rejection echoing in my ears.

“Come on, come on,” I plead, my voice cracking with desperation. “Please, just work.”

I try again, running out of gas at a fairly abandoned gas station doesn’t sound like my version of a good time.

But the pump remains stubbornly uncooperative, the screen blinking back at me mockingly.

I step back, my mind racing as I try to make sense of what’s happening. Maybe it’s just a glitch, a temporary hiccup in the system. Maybe if I go inside and talk to the cashier, they can help me sort it out.

I turn towards the store and push the door open. It reeks, and there’s hardly anything on the shelves. I approach the counter, my heart hammering in my chest as I meet the cashier’s gaze. He doesn’t look much older than me, with bleached hair and tired eyes.

“Hi,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m having some trouble with the pump outside. My card keeps getting declined.”

The cashier raises an eyebrow, his eyes flickering down to the card in my hand. “Let me see that,” he grunts, holding out his hand.

I pass it over, watching as he swipes it through the reader. But the machine beeps angrily, flashing the same error message that I saw outside.

“Declined,” the cashier says, his tone flat and unsympathetic. “You got another way to pay?”

I shake my head, my throat tightening with panic. “No, that’s impossible. There must be some mistake. Can you try it again?”

The cashier sighs, but he complies, swiping the card a second time. And then a third. But each attempt yields the same result, the same sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Frustrated, I pull out my phone, my fingers shaking as I open up my banking app. I stare at the screen, my eyes widening in disbelief as I take in the balance: $0.00.

No, that can’t be right. I had over three thousand dollars in there this morning, my entire savings from the past year. How could it all be gone?

And then it hits me, a realization that slams into me like a freight train. Kyle. He must have drained my account, just like he did to Mom so many times before.

The thought sends a surge of anger through me, hot and bitter and all-consuming. That bastard. That fucking bastard. How could he do this to me? How could he take the one thing I had left, the one thing that was supposed to be mine?

I feel like I can’t breathe like the walls are closing in on me. The cashier is saying something, but his words are distant and muffled, drowned out by the roaring in my ears.

“Freaking typical,” I mutter. “Of course, he’d do this. Of course, he’d find a way to screw me over, even when I’m miles away from him.”

I close my eyes, trying to block out the memories that threaten to overwhelm me. The sound of Kyle’s voice slurred with alcohol and rage. The feel of his hands, rough and unyielding as they leave bruises on my skin for trying to protect my mother. The sight of my mother’s face twisted with fear and despair as she watches him tear our family apart.

I can’t go back to that. I won’t. But where do I go from here? What do I do when the one thing I thought I could count on has been stolen from me?

But I can’t give up. I won’t let Kyle win, won’t let him break me like he’s broken Mom. I have to find a way forward, even if I don’t know what that looks like yet.

“Miss…” the cashier says, breaking me free from my thoughts. “If you don’t have another way to…”

Maybe I can just… I hate myself for the thought, but what other choice do I have? I refuse to go back and I need to keep going. I put a flirtatious smile on my face and read the name tag on his shirt. ‘Alex’.

This works whenever I want free drinks at the bar. “I seem to be in a bit of a bind,” I say, leaning forward and batting my eyelashes. “My card’s not working, and I’m running on empty. Any chance you could help a girl out?”

Alex raises an eyebrow, his blue eyes assessing me with a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Sorry, miss. No can do. If your card’s declined, there’s not much I can do about it.”

I pout, tilting my head to the side. “Come on, surely there’s something you can do? I’d be so grateful.” I trail my fingers along the edge of the counter, hoping my body language will convey what my words cannot.

It’s not like I’d sleep with him, but flirting goes a long way.

But Alex just shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I appreciate the effort, but I’m afraid your charms are wasted on me. I’m gay.”

My face falls, the rejection stinging more than it should. Of course. Of course, the one time I try to use my femininity to my advantage, I strike out spectacularly. Heat rises in my cheeks as I straighten up, embarrassment and frustration warring within me.

“Right. Sorry. I just…” My words trail off. “Thanks anyway,” I mutter, turning to go. I push the door open and go back to my truck, where Shadow is, impatiently waiting, looking straight out the window.

What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

No money, no gas, and no plan. I’m well and truly screwed.

I close my eyes, the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind my temples. Think, Ayla. Think. There has to be a way out of this mess. Some solution I haven’t considered, some angle I haven’t explored.

But the more I wrack my brain, the more hopeless it seems. I’m out of options and out of time. The sun is setting, and I’m no closer to a plan than I was when I pulled into this godforsaken gas station.

A wave of exhaustion washes over me, and I sag against the truck, feeling the fight drain out of me. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is where my grand adventure ends before it even had a chance to begin. Maybe I’m just fooling myself, thinking I could ever escape the mess that is my life.

I’ll have to call my mom and she and Kyle will have to pick me up…he won’t give me my money back. No, it’s probably been blown on drugs or alcohol. And if by some miracle it isn’t, he’ll say the money was for his time and energy to come get me. But, at least I’ll have somewhere to sleep.

Shadow’s excited barking jolts me out of my spiraling thoughts. I whirl around, my heart leaping into my throat as I scan the dimly lit gas station parking lot. What the hell has gotten into him?

And then I see him. A man striding towards us with an easy, confident gait. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a chiseled jawline and a smile that could charm the pants off a nun. Despite my wariness, I can’t help but notice how damn attractive he is.

“Hey there,” he calls out, his voice deep and smooth. “Everything okay? I saw you struggling with the pump earlier.”

I narrow my eyes, instinctively tensing up. I’ve learned the hard way that handsome strangers offering unsolicited help are rarely as altruistic as they seem. “I’m fine,” I say, my tone clipped. “Just having some card issues.”

He nods, his smile never wavering. “I’ve been there. It’s a real pain in the ass.” He takes a step closer, and I fight the urge to back away. “Listen, I don’t mean to overstep, but if you need some cash to get you back on the road, I’d be happy to help out.”

I stare at him, torn between suspicion and a desperate, shameful flicker of hope. Could he really be offering to bail me out, no strings attached? It seems too good to be true.

“Why would you do that?” I ask, hating the way my voice wavers. “You don’t even know me.”

He shrugs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “We take care of people here. Call it a town for random acts of kindness.”

I hesitate for a long moment, weighing my options. I don’t trust easily, and every instinct is screaming at me to tell this guy to take a hike. But the alternative is spending the night in this parking lot with no idea how I’ll get back on the road come morning.

Or worse…dealing with Mom and Kyle.

“I would really appreciate that, actually.”

His smile widens, and he nods towards the gas pump. “Let’s get you fueled up, then.” He starts walking, and after a moment’s hesitation, I fall into step beside him, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

As he swipes his card and begins filling up my tank, I lean against the side of my truck, trying to wrap my head around this sudden turn of events. I’m not used to accepting help from anyone, let alone a complete stranger. It goes against everything I’ve learned to rely on in this world.

But there’s something about this man that feels...different. And I’m not just talking about how irresistibly hot he is. Maybe it’s the warmth in his eyes, or the easy confidence in his stance. Or maybe I’m just so desperate for a break that I’m seeing things that aren’t there.