She didn’t even bother to go through the path she took to end up in this fuckers passenger seat. At this point she couldn’t even remember if she had ever thought it was a good idea. The days of her heart racing and the stomach flutters giving her electric joy over the parts she could enjoy without feeling like hot garbage were long gone.
All that was left were ghost flutters that were memories of a time when she her heart would race at the forbidden-ness of this. As she sat in the truck as they raced north, she pretended to sleep staring through the slits that were her eyes at the dark landscape.
An empty shell of who she was at this point, she was here out of habit more than anything. It was a habit she desperately wanted, no NEEDED to break. She just didn’t know how.
His warnings of the anger of her mother were firmly planted in her brain. She was grasping for a plan. Or just the courage to come clean. It needed to happen. She was terrified of the outcome, definitely not ready for it.
Bambam fell truly asleep as the miles steadily passed under the tires on this journey that is the Tale of Bambam the Brave