Chapter 2: The Turning

"Death is the key which unlocks the door to our true happiness." – W.A. Mozart

"You move pretty fast for being so small," the woman said. "I almost caught up with you in Boise."

I didn't say anything, even though I had a lot of questions. It was like I couldn't settle on just one to ask, so I didn't ask any. Or maybe I was afraid of the answers. I had been running fast, very fast and even if this woman hadn't been dead, which I was pretty sure she had been, she shouldn't ever have been able to find me. Not by herself, not without help.

We got back to the highway and she took a left, so I was going back the way I came. The Texaco station appeared once more, the same one Howard had passed an hour or so before and I wondered if he regretted that now. That was a comforting thought, not because I was worried about that fat bastard who'd wanted to rape me, but because it was a little bit of my old self coming back to life. Fighting the paralyzing fear of being just fifteen and all alone.

"We're going to change cars," Angela said, pulling up next to her Civic with the Utah plates. We were parked on the side of the gas station, which was busy with trucks mostly, some cars too though. People were coming and going quickly, not noticing us at all. Nobody sees anything at a place like that.

She opened the passenger door and bent herself in, leaning on the seat and reaching a hand for me. "Come on." Her fingers twitched a little, calling me.

"S-Stay away from me," I whispered and I realized my teeth were chattering. I was shivering. I gripped my knife tightly but I didn't threaten her with it.

"You can't stay here," Angela smiled. "You were coming with me, remember?"

I didn't speak or move, not even when she crawled closer, until she could touch me and I felt her warm fingers on my arm, gripping my wrist and pulling it away from my legs gently.

"It'll be alright," she said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you, Lisa. Nobody is going to hurt you ever again. I promise."

I wasn't worried about being hurt.

"You ... You were dead," I told her, finally saying it out loud. "I saw you. I touched you."

"Well, I'm not dead now, am I?" Angela smiled like it was a joke. "Let's go, we need to find a place for you to sleep."

"You were dead," I repeated, but she wouldn't say anything more. The woman just pulled me gently, coaxing me out of the car and into hers.

Even though I'd slept all afternoon in Ronny's car, I found myself sleepy as Angela drove us down the highway. All my energy had just evaporated and I closed my eyes, but every time I did all I could see was the woman lying in the backseat, eyes closed, not breathing. Cold and utterly silent. And then she opened her eyes.

I jerked upright in the seat, confused and blinking as I woke up. I was breathing hard and sweating. It was still night and we were parked at a motel, all blue and pink neon shining through the windows. Angela was gone and then I saw her inside through big glass windows, talking to a girl behind the counter, getting a room. I looked around, thinking for just a second that I could run.

"Hi." The door opened and she was getting in, tossing a room key wrapped in a big receipt on the dash. "You slept a little. That's good. How do you feel?"

I shrugged, not knowing how to answer. She seemed normal, everything was normal. But it wasn't.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, starting the car. "There's a diner here."

I shook my head.

"We'll get cleaned up first," Angela decided and then she was backing up, driving around the big square building and finding the motel entrance closest to our room.

She opened the passenger door when I wouldn't get out right away, looking down at me. "Here. You dropped this when you fell asleep." The woman handed me my knife and I took it slowly, as if it might be a trick...

I looked at the knife for a second and then flicked the blade free with a sharp snick, looking up at her, just to see how she'd react. Angela smiled patiently, ignoring the knife and she wasn't afraid of me. I licked my lips, feeling a small crust of dried blood under my tongue. I closed the blade again after half a minute and slipped my seatbelt off, getting out of the car without really knowing why. I'd never needed reasons for anything before though, had I?

"Come here." Angela was sitting on the bed. There was only one in the room, a large queen size mattress dressed in a dull blue comforter. She reached out to bring me closer, tugging at my hips. "Let's get you cleaned up. You'll feel better."

I wasn't speaking to her, but Angela didn't seem to mind that, or even notice very much. She undressed me carefully and I didn't resist. This at least was familiar, being in a motel room with an older woman, being undressed by her. This was something I could understand, maybe the first thing all night, and I found myself responding to it. I needed that comfort, of being the person I thought I was in a world I thought I knew.

She took off my jacket and then my shirts, revealing my body slowly, layer by layer. I felt cold and Angela's hands were warm on my skin. She touched me, just a little, smiling as her fingers moved beneath my small breasts. The woman undid my jeans, pushing them down my thighs and then holding me as I put my hands on her shoulders reflexively, kicking off my boots and lifting my feet one at a time. I was standing in panties and socks and soon even those were gone.

Angela leaned forward as she pulled my panties down, more than she needed to, and I could feel her warm breath on my tummy. The thin cotton fell around my ankles and I stood there as the woman moved her hands up the back of my slender thighs, up to my ass, holding me and then kissing me, just at the top of my slit, on the fatty little swell above my sex.

"Do you like me?" I asked, finding my voice in that moment. I knew she did, I could smell her desire and it gave me strength. She wasnt so different from the others, I thought. My body gave me power over her lust.

"I've always liked you," Angela said, taking a deep breath.

She took me to the bathroom, small as such places always are, with only a shower and a toilet. The sink was just outside the bathroom, in a small alcove and I paused there, turning on the bright lights and looking at myself in the mirror. Angela turned on the water in the shower, frowning as I glanced at her and telling me she'd asked for a room that had a bathtub.

I had a cut on my bottom lip and it was swollen. My nose was swollen too, but not broken or anything. I had the beginning of a black eye on the left side of my face and my cheek there was already discolored slightly, dark and faintly yellow. I had dried blood around my nose and lips, a bit on my chin. My blonde hair was a mess, dirty and matted to my head, and my eyes looked red and puffy as if I'd been crying, but I hadn't cried at all, I didn't think.

"Here..." Angela was behind me suddenly and I jumped because I'd been looking in the mirror and I hadn't noticed her there.

She was naked now and I turned around, looking at her. She waited patiently, letting me see all of her and it was an offer. Her dark blonde hair was down around her pale shoulders, and her blue eyes were open. Angela had that same thin and amused smile that I'd liked in the Korean place, maybe because it seemed genuine somehow. Her breasts weren't overly large, but firm and topped with soft brown nipples. She had a nice shape, a toned body with definition beneath her soft white skin. I looked at her sex, beneath a small strip of light brown pubic hair. I could see her lips and the small knot of flesh that hid her clit.

Angela was reading my face, watching my eyes, and after that long moment of inspection she took my hand. The water had been running hot and steam rose weakly in the bathroom. She led me into the shower, both of us standing close so that it was natural to put my arms around her. It was what I wanted, to hold this woman and to be held. I knew it was just programmed into me, like wanting my mother back or something. Nothing too deep there, anyone could understand it. I'd been attracted to older women my whole life it seemed, ever since that awful day, but understanding a thing doesn't change it. I'd never felt any guilt about it.

I let Angela wash me, using one of the motel's washcloths and the cheap soap that came wrapped with compliments. It smelled like nothing, but it felt good, the wet rough texture of terrycloth moving over my skin. I turned and moved, allowing Angela to do with me as she liked, and all the while that hot water poured over us. It was rinsing away the cold and the fear, or so I imagined, bringing some sense of clarity at least. Enough so that I could speak finally.

"You really were dead," I told Angela. I had my back to her and she was washing my shoulders and down, along my ribs and up my spine. Massaging me with soapy hands.