The Car

I knew the car would be a problem before I even saw it. Greg’s idea of a working car was completely different from my idea of a working car. All Greg needed was something that would start. I needed something that actually ran well. A car I knew I could rely on. A car I knew would get me from A to B. I knew I couldn’t bring up my concerns because Greg would simply push them under the rug. Just like he swept everything else under the rug. 

The moment we pulled into the used car lot, I knew our ‘new’ car would not be something I would be able to rely on. I knew I would never be able to escape. Greg greeted the salesman, Ryan, like they were old friends. The beer Ryan passed Greg meant he knew exactly what Greg wanted to drink and had had a six-pack iced down for our arrival. Iced down and ready to make Greg happy. Which probably meant I was in for a long night. And it was probably true my every move would be watched from this moment on. 

But what neither Greg nor Ryan knew was that I had no intention of ever driving this car. Neither one would be leaving this very car lot. The police would be arriving any minute. Any minute now I would be a free woman. A free woman who would never be pushed around again.