09-11-2018, 04:21 PM
Ask forgiveness not permission.
The Jasiri compound was in the middle of nowhere, which offered long stretches of empty road. Imani hesitated at the car door, her face pinched by a frown as Natalie ducked into the driver's seat. Was it reckless? Yes. Without question. But when she leaned over to click the door open with a devilish smirk, Imani slipped herself in, wrapping the belt across her waist.
Natalie drove with heedless speed, rattling their insides with every bump and divot until the smoother highway. They had a while until dusk would steal the light; street lamps were sparse, and certainly wouldn't guide them the whole way home if she did not keep an eye on the time. Getting stranded was not a good idea. To be honest, neither was being out alone after dark at all. But she didn't plan to be.
Silence reigned for a while; just the stuttering purr of the engine and a whistling wind streaming across the bonnet. The distraction of driving always brought an emptiness to Natalie's mind. Following Alistair's arrest, Eleanor had moved the girls to Aubagne until the furore died down. After her recovery Natalie had joined them, at least until the trial began, but the beautiful countryside of southern France felt more like a prison than an escape (though it was infinitely preferable to the new house in London at the time).
So she drove. Just drove. And tried to forget.
It had helped. For a while, anyway.
Words would do nothing for Imani, and Natalie hoped to share solace in the escape. Even for an hour. It was probably more of a selfish pursuit than the Red Cross badge on her shirt suggested; god knew the restless itch never ceased its siren call. She was always looking for something she'd never quite managed to find. But her soul was quiet now, soothed by the momentum and the still mind it bought.
Imani said something then; it took a moment for Natalie to unravel the words, but when she did she laughed. "I drive like a man?"
"Like the road belongs to you."
"Why shouldn't it?"
She could see from the corner of her eye that the girl gripped her seat-belt tight, though Natalie didn't think it was fear. Her lips were pressed thin, the slit of her eyes suggesting how foolish she found the retort. But it didn't matter if Imani liked her; that wasn't why they were here, and if Natalie was apt to slice off little pieces of her soul and offer them out in solidarity it was rarely in pursuit of friendship. Aspersion suited her better anyway.
"Something bad happened to my family a few years back. When it got too much, I coped in two ways. One of them was driving. Just driving. Moving forward, even without a destination."
"And the other?"
"The other, Imani, I do not recommend."
The girl did not ask; maybe she understood the devils to be found in the bottom of bottles, or maybe she just didn't care. After a moment she sighed like a decision had been made, and turned her eyes out to the scenery beyond. "Amidah says you're just as broken as us, you know. But in different ways. She says it's why you're really here."
"Oh does she." She smirked, though it was an amusement darkened by something morbid. Natalie didn't speak of home often, and certainly not of the reasons she had left the Custody. In a few brief words Imani already knew more than anyone else at the shelter, Amidah included. Unless her mother's influences crossed an ocean. It wasn't impossible. "I can't claim to have suffered even half the horrors I've seen since I've been here, Imani. It really doesn't compare, believe me."
Imani made a noise in her throat but did not respond. Silence shrouded again, but the tension was creeping out with the miles eaten up by their pace. Eventually she let out a breath. "My sister died bringing her third child into this world. We have no family, Natalie. Her husband was gracious to take in his wife's younger sisters. But marriage is a transaction. I imagine he felt short-changed."
Natalie's eyes blinked off the road, but only barely. She did not interrupt.
"I couldn't. I just." A pause. "She's still there. Saida. My sister."
Natalie's hands tightened, the evenness of her reaction tightly reigned. Ice spread out from her chest; not at the words, exactly, but the way they were spoken. The small, insidious implication. Imani never broke her gaze from the window. "And she's... in danger?"
"She's twelve. And he's a man, not a monster. But she won't be a little girl forever." There was an edge of defensiveness to her words. But something quiet lodged in her throat too. "Amidah says she'll do what she can, but he needs someone to care for his children. He won't let her go."
The final words came out a whisper that struck like an anvil.
"I should go back."
Natalie's expression fell grim, jaw tight. A promise unfurled silent in her chest. "No. You shouldn't."
The Jasiri compound was in the middle of nowhere, which offered long stretches of empty road. Imani hesitated at the car door, her face pinched by a frown as Natalie ducked into the driver's seat. Was it reckless? Yes. Without question. But when she leaned over to click the door open with a devilish smirk, Imani slipped herself in, wrapping the belt across her waist.
Natalie drove with heedless speed, rattling their insides with every bump and divot until the smoother highway. They had a while until dusk would steal the light; street lamps were sparse, and certainly wouldn't guide them the whole way home if she did not keep an eye on the time. Getting stranded was not a good idea. To be honest, neither was being out alone after dark at all. But she didn't plan to be.
Silence reigned for a while; just the stuttering purr of the engine and a whistling wind streaming across the bonnet. The distraction of driving always brought an emptiness to Natalie's mind. Following Alistair's arrest, Eleanor had moved the girls to Aubagne until the furore died down. After her recovery Natalie had joined them, at least until the trial began, but the beautiful countryside of southern France felt more like a prison than an escape (though it was infinitely preferable to the new house in London at the time).
So she drove. Just drove. And tried to forget.
It had helped. For a while, anyway.
Words would do nothing for Imani, and Natalie hoped to share solace in the escape. Even for an hour. It was probably more of a selfish pursuit than the Red Cross badge on her shirt suggested; god knew the restless itch never ceased its siren call. She was always looking for something she'd never quite managed to find. But her soul was quiet now, soothed by the momentum and the still mind it bought.
Imani said something then; it took a moment for Natalie to unravel the words, but when she did she laughed. "I drive like a man?"
"Like the road belongs to you."
"Why shouldn't it?"
She could see from the corner of her eye that the girl gripped her seat-belt tight, though Natalie didn't think it was fear. Her lips were pressed thin, the slit of her eyes suggesting how foolish she found the retort. But it didn't matter if Imani liked her; that wasn't why they were here, and if Natalie was apt to slice off little pieces of her soul and offer them out in solidarity it was rarely in pursuit of friendship. Aspersion suited her better anyway.
"Something bad happened to my family a few years back. When it got too much, I coped in two ways. One of them was driving. Just driving. Moving forward, even without a destination."
"And the other?"
"The other, Imani, I do not recommend."
The girl did not ask; maybe she understood the devils to be found in the bottom of bottles, or maybe she just didn't care. After a moment she sighed like a decision had been made, and turned her eyes out to the scenery beyond. "Amidah says you're just as broken as us, you know. But in different ways. She says it's why you're really here."
"Oh does she." She smirked, though it was an amusement darkened by something morbid. Natalie didn't speak of home often, and certainly not of the reasons she had left the Custody. In a few brief words Imani already knew more than anyone else at the shelter, Amidah included. Unless her mother's influences crossed an ocean. It wasn't impossible. "I can't claim to have suffered even half the horrors I've seen since I've been here, Imani. It really doesn't compare, believe me."
Imani made a noise in her throat but did not respond. Silence shrouded again, but the tension was creeping out with the miles eaten up by their pace. Eventually she let out a breath. "My sister died bringing her third child into this world. We have no family, Natalie. Her husband was gracious to take in his wife's younger sisters. But marriage is a transaction. I imagine he felt short-changed."
Natalie's eyes blinked off the road, but only barely. She did not interrupt.
"I couldn't. I just." A pause. "She's still there. Saida. My sister."
Natalie's hands tightened, the evenness of her reaction tightly reigned. Ice spread out from her chest; not at the words, exactly, but the way they were spoken. The small, insidious implication. Imani never broke her gaze from the window. "And she's... in danger?"
"She's twelve. And he's a man, not a monster. But she won't be a little girl forever." There was an edge of defensiveness to her words. But something quiet lodged in her throat too. "Amidah says she'll do what she can, but he needs someone to care for his children. He won't let her go."
The final words came out a whisper that struck like an anvil.
"I should go back."
Natalie's expression fell grim, jaw tight. A promise unfurled silent in her chest. "No. You shouldn't."