Free Ride

by M. N. Forgy

I hunch over, my fingers tangling in my hair. I don’t want to be pushed to the side. I need to be here. I have so much left to do.

  “Farrah? Are you okay?” His hand slides up my back in a suggestive manner, his wife just inside. His touch makes me want to vomit. My chest rattles with anger and sadness. I feel so stupid thinking he’d choose me.

  “Are you sick?” he mutters. That one sentence makes me cringe every time I hear it. I could answer it with an act of murder, a smile on my face and blood on my hands. I’m the fucking poster child for mental illness, put upon my head a bloody tiara and I would wear it proudly, or should I say… Harley would wear it with devil grin.

  “You just – you just left me behind without a second glance,” I manage to choke out. His touch stills on my back and the room goes quiet. I stand upright and look him in the eye. “Am I so lucky to be the only girl you play with on the side or are there others?” I tilt my head to the side, tears streaming down my face.

  “What did you expect, Farrah?” He laughs, placing his hands on his hips. I close my eyes, the feeling of my chest being pulled apart so painful I can’t be here a second longer.

  He’s a douchebag, and I’m stupid for believing we were each other’s happiness.

  Hands curled into my chest, I run out of the garage and shoot off into the rain. My legs having their own mind I sprint toward campus and don’t look back. It’s better this way because if I stay my hurt will turn to anger, and Harley will come to the light.

  I don’t know what her mission is with the professor but with her, I’m sure it’s something grim and I’m not done talking to the professor about how to treat girls and their hearts.

  By the time I reach my dorm my skin is clear of any makeup, tattoos on my arms showing fully as the concealer I placed on them has washed away. I’m slowly becoming Harley.

  I can feel anger, rage, and darkness filling my head. Harley. Everything that keeps her company in the shadows is snuffing out the light inside of me.

  Staggering up the stairs, I make my way to the second floor. My head aches and my legs shake. I fall against the wall, tearing down missing posters, and sign-up sheets for Drama Club.

  “You okay?” A cheerleader looking chick asks.

  “Fuck off or I’ll slit your throat!” I swipe at her, and she screams and runs. I cover my mouth, the words surprising me. I’d never say that to anyone.

  Heaving, stumbling, I make it to my room and shut the door. My knees crumble, and I face plant to the floor.

  12

  Harley

  My eyes flutter open, the side of my face burning as if I just dragged it along the carpeted floor. My cheek hurts, and I raise my hand to inspect it.

  “Ouch.” I wince. I must have taken a hard fall. It’s not the worst of my falls, though. I came to once on the stairs at the club and had to get stitches at the base of my head.

  Groaning, I pull myself up off the floor and look around the room.

  I’m in the dorm room I rented out when I came to campus. Why am I cold and damp? Looking down I find myself wearing a stupid fucking dress. Farrah…

  Oh no, Farrah was in the light.

  “No,” I whisper to myself. My fingers rubbing along the material of the dress. I try to remember the last thing I did, but it’s all black. I can’t remember anything before getting set up in my room. Biting my lip, I notice my lip ring missing. Cursing under my breath, I stagger to the mirror on the wall, curious what else Farrah did to my appearance.

  I gasp in horror, clutching my mouth.

  My hair, it’s colored brown and pink. My blonde hair, it’s gone. My piercings are gone too. I look… different.

  “Noooo!” I scream angrily, clearing everything off the sink in a fit of fury. Pretty makeup and girly shit go flying across the room. “YOU FUCKING BITCH, FARRAH!” I shout to no one but myself. Farrah can’t hear me, so my yelling at her is pointless.

  “I’m trying to study!” muffled yelling from the room next to mine, a fist pounding on the wall to follow.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I scream at the girl next door. Grabbing a blow dryer off the sink I throw it at the wall, and the pounding stops.

  “You fuck everything up, you ruin everything,” I cry softly as I fall to the floor on my hands and knees. Adrenaline pulses through me so hard I feel high. I’m so angry and so hurt. This was my only chance at finding myself, and my illness had to show its ugly head and fuck everything up.

  Standing on wobbly legs, I clutch the cold sink and close my eyes. I try to breathe, try to calm myself, but it’s no use. She went too far this time. Farrah, went too far this time.

  A laptop suddenly illuminates from my bed, the professor’s picture expanded. Where did that laptop come from? How could Farrah afford it? I slide my finger along the pad bringing up the bottom toolbar. September 1st. My head falls with despair. Days of my life are gone. Drifted in the black abyss that I’ll never get back. I got here four fucking days ago. Farrah came to the light right after check-in and has been running around the campus living my life.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper under my breath. Hot tears stream down my cheeks as I close my eyes. I try to bring forward some memory to indicate if Farrah has interacted with the professor, but I can’t remember a thing. I never can. It’s like a wall, a thick brick wall I can’t climb over, under, or through. I’m left in the darkness where the other side holds the light.

  Wiping the tears from my face, I grab the computer and face it toward me.

  Clicking the laptop’s history, there’s nothing but information on the professor. She’s been stalking him.

  “Goddamn it,” I growl. She has been in contact with him. My heart strikes in my chest with my next thought. I pray she didn’t sleep with him. I’ve only slept with Benji, and the memory of our first time is one I think about every night before going to bed. Farrah sleeping with someone else makes me feel… violated. She’s a slut and wants someone to love her so badly… she’ll destroy me if it means she gets her happily ever after.

  She ruins everything.

  My fingers still on the keyboard the skull ring that was Benji’s shines on my thumb. Where is he? Maybe I should call him. With Farrah coming out, everything has changed.

  I climb over to my leather bag tucked away in the corner and dump the contents. The orange pill bottles I’m looking for don’t fall out of the bag. Gasping for air, I shove my hand in the bag hoping they got stuck or something, but it’s empty. I forgot them.

  Without me taking them for days, Farrah will be back.

  My therapist says Farrah and I should work together, but that will never happen. I take the meds, she doesn’t. She wants to live her own life, and I want my own.

  One time I came to in the middle of a storm stranded on a beach in Texas. I had no recollection of how I got there, all I had on was a stupid sundress surrounded by a bunch of spring breakers thinking it was cool to party in the midst of a hurricane. I had no personal items on me and had to borrow a cell phone from some drunk chick by a campfire to get ahold of Benji.

  He took care of everything and got me back home safely. But still, it makes me wonder with every living second, whenever I blink or simply just breathe… Where will I be next? What will I do? What would it be that led me there?

  Falling to my ass, my knees to my chest, my eyes fall on a picture of me and Benji that fell from my bag. It’s one of my favorites.

  It’s from one of the club parties. I’m wearing his leather cut because I was cold, my cut-off shorts showing my tan tattooed legs. I have a beer in my hand and a smile on my face as Benji surprisingly pulled me into a hug from behind. He’s my best friend and I miss him so much.

  Sobbing, I grab it and clutch it to my chest.

  I miss him, more than I thought I ever would, right now.

  He’d know what to do if he were here. He knows how to handle Farrah, make her sink within.

  Leaning my head against the wall, I shake my head. Coming here was stupid, I knew
there was a possibility Farrah would come forth.

  Sliding to the floor, I lay my head on the carpet and close my eyes. I try to breathe through my pain, my anger, and torment. How I long to be normal, to be just… me.

  “Stay still,” echoes through my head and a small smile slips past my agony.

  The few words that Benji would whisper to me after an episode.

  “Why do you keep saying that?” I ask, clawing at him as if I could climb inside of him and wear him as protection. A cloak of some kind to protect myself from myself. “Like staying still will make everything better!” I sob.

  “Can you feel my heart beat against your back?” he asks softly. I nod, I can feel it. It’s pounding hard, and steady. “Can you hear only my voice?” I look up at him, his chin to my forehead. His voice rough with a growl, but soft like silk the way it wrapped around me and grounded me. Kept me safe.

  “The chaos and the voices can’t be heard if you stay still and let me have you,” he insists. The stubble of his chin scratching along my forehead.

  “Stay still,” I whisper, trying to pretend that Benji is here with me now. His voice, his hard heartbeat against my back. His arms wrapped around me, protecting me. “Stay still…”

  Benji

  Reaching the campus, I park right in front of the main building. I am not fucking with a parking garage and stupid ass college kids dinging my doors with their beat-up shit. The smell of rain hangs in the air, and kids amongst all ages walk around oblivious to who the fuck just showed up on their front doorstep and who they’ve been living amongst for days. The fucking Shadow Keepers Enforcer, and their princess.

  Sliding my hands through my dark hair, I pull my cut tighter around my shoulders and start toward the main office.

  Girls flash me a flirtatious smile, and boys look at me as if I’m lost. It’s the leather cut, the large rings on my fingers, and the bold tattoos on my skin that grabs everyone’s respect.

  I sneer. Fucking college. Out of all the places I’ve gone to get Harley, this has to be the worst.

  Hipsters and spoiled ass brats get on my nerves more than anything.

  13

  Farrah

  Waking up this morning, I pick out a cute pink frilly dress and pull off the black panties and bra Harley put on last night. Her idea of a wardrobe is so trashy, you could compare it to a homeless person. Smoothing out my dress, I pluck the lip ring out of my lip and reach for the concealer on the counter. I smother the tattoos on my arms, the color so vibrant it needs an extra coat. Harley really should have consulted with me before she did this to my body.

  Grabbing my school bag, I flip my dark hair over my shoulder and head toward class. I can’t wait to see Professor Prescott. I’m not done with him yet. I demand answers and I will get them. I just have to remain calm about it. I bite my lip, curious if Harley has gotten to see him yet. I hope not because he might be alive if she has.

  Stepping outside the dorm’s building, a chill crawls through the trees, and I stop on the bottom step of the building. Slowly I look over my shoulder, feeling drawn to something powerful. It’s as if the whole campus is under a spell, moving slower and cautious today.

  My eyes fall on Benjamin, and I suck in a ragged breath. He’s dark and handsome and sticks out in the crowd of young kids. “Fuck,” I mumble under my breath. He’s here for Harley. Turning around quickly before we make eye contact I make my way to the auditorium. I remain stiff and keep my head down. If he sees me, he’ll throw me over his shoulder and march me out of this campus not giving a fuck who sees. Just as I reach my class, I hurry inside and find my seat just as professor scribbles our daily assignment on the board. Slumping in my seat, I release a full breath. I watch the professor in fascination, remembering our time together at that very desk. The way he looked at me, his muscles tensing with restraint. The way my hair felt wrapped around his hand, the roughness of his touch as he forced me to bend forward.

  My eyes flutter with sudden sadness. I thought it was him acting on the pull between us, not him preying on young girls.

  “I want you all to write a short story on something controversial and where you stand on the topic,” he informs. Flicking my pencil against my desk, I watch him closely as he walks back and forth across the room. The way his shiny shoes tap against the floor with each step, the bulge in his slacks when they stretch. He’s not looking at me though, not even a glance. My heart sags in my chest, my nostrils flaring. We usually play a sexual staring game in every class, one that has me blushing and looking down. He smirks, and continues his lecture. But not today…

  Our game is over.

  I stare at him the entire time class is in session, willing him to look my way. I’m not sure what I’ll do if he does look this way. Flip him off, pout, or let Harley take over. I just want him to acknowledge me.

  He smiles, his eyes directed toward the top of the auditorium. Frowning I follow his eyesight and see a new girl in paint covered overalls and pigtails sitting at the top. She is nibbling on a blue pencil, one of the professor’s. She winks at him, and I quickly turn around. My fingernails impaling the top of my desk.

  THAT BASTARD.

  “Class dismissed,” he clips before sitting behind his desk. I shake my head, coming to the fact class is over and he’s cold-shouldered me the whole time. He’s moved on to his next toy and forgotten me.

  I wait for everyone to leave, the girl in the overalls waits too, but I’m not going anywhere so she can take a hike. I make my way to him. Needing to talk to him and now. I glare at the girl in pigtails, my eyes digging into her like sharp table knives. Getting the hint, she quickly packs her books and scurries away.

  Satisfied that it’s just me and the professor, I exhale a breath loud enough to draw his attention.

  “Something I can help you with?” he asks in a formal tone that manages to cut me straight to the bone. He acts as if we haven’t been playing this cat and mouse game from the very beginning.

  “Why are you ignoring me?” I ask with emotion in my voice.

  He looks up at me, his eyes cold.

  “This is over. I can’t have you showing up at my house and risking my life,” he confesses and my eyes bug out. His life? Is he serious?

  “Are you happy?” I can’t help but ask. Knowing he’s not, in fact, I bet his father-in-law has something over him. Does Harley know this? Is this why she’s after him?

  He shakes his head in an irritated manner.

  “It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is this is over.” He looks down, red pen in his hand.

  “You think this is okay?” I scoff, and he sighs, avoiding looking at me. He can’t get rid of me that easily.

  I step around the desk to him, and he sighs leaning back in his chair. Taking the opportunity, I climb on his lap, my legs straddling his. The smell of pencil shavings and permanent marker strong. Grabbing his tie, I pull his face inches within mine.

  “Tell me you don’t want me,” I whisper with anger in my voice. I need to hear him say it. The final vessel in my heart to be slit and bleed out.

  He opens his mouth to talk, but shuts it quickly.

  I situate myself on the bulge in his pants, and a tingle shoots through my limbs. I close my eyes, hating I still want him after knowing we have nothing but a sexual pull.

  “Tell me to stop,” I breathe heavily. Please for the love of God tell me to stop.

  His hands grasp my bare thighs and my head falls back with satisfaction. He slides his palms upward, his knuckles brushing my dress to the side as it hikes further up.

  “Why am I attracted to the crazy bitches?” he moans, and my wet panties stick to my pussy as I rock myself back and forth on him.

  A bang echoes through the room, and he shoves me off of him as he jumps from his seat. We both look around the room, looking for any form of disturbance, but there’s nobody. Pigtail girl is long gone.

  “Look, I can’t do this. I’m having you removed from class, and I don’t want to see yo
u again, Farrah.” He looks up at me with hooded eyes. There it is, the nail in the coffin. His coffin.

  My nostrils flare, hot tears filling my vision.

  His hands on the desk, his back arched as he bends over to catch his breath, he shakes his head.

  “This… this is over.” He breathes heavily.

  I can feel the rage building in my chest, my heart throbbing in my throat. I try to ease my emotions, knowing if I don’t, Harley will take the front seat, and this will all be over before it started.

  He reaches for a glass of water on his desk, and the sight of it makes my head throb. The glass looks familiar with the flower sketching on the side.

  Closing my eyes, I see a little girl in the trailer, soaked. Her mother holding a glass just like the one the professor has. It’s Harley, and she’s upset, scared even.

  Screaming out of control, I grab his desk and flip it over, my strength surprising me. My face red and veins protruding from my neck. I lower my head and glare at him with a darkness that dwells within that can only be Harley.

  “You’re going to pay for breaking my heart,” I seethe.

  14

  Harley

  Glass crashes to the floor and Professor Prescott stands there looking at me with wide eyes and the biggest bulge I’ve seen in a pair of dress slacks.

  I look around me. I’m in some sort of classroom or something.

  “Farrah?” Prescott asks timidly; scared even. I turn, my cheeks warm, and my panties wet and sticking to me uncomfortably. I hate panties. There’s tension in the air and the desk is flipped over with debris everywhere. Something bad just happened.

  “What’d you do?” I ask, my chest rising and falling rapidly. He must have hurt Farrah, why else would I be here. She wouldn’t let me come to the front so easily, she wants me here. My hands slide along soft material, and I notice I’m in a damn dress again.