"You done yet?" Jack asks, turning towards me. It should sound kind, almost fatherly. It doesn't though. Instead, it almost sounds like a threat, like I'd better be done or else. Or else what I couldn't say, but or else something. For the first time, it hits me what a bad idea this was. Just how much danger I could be in. Actually scrap that, how much danger I am in.
Jack is an almost middle-aged man who's shown he could kill me without a second thought. It wouldn't be hard for him and he certainly wouldn't lose any sleep over it. I'm in a car whose owner he murdered. I'm locked in the car, can't get out. But even if I could I wouldn't have anywhere to go. At this point, it's not as if I could go home. If mom and I were like oil and water before we'd be ammonia and bleach now. My friends are school friends, nothing past the superficial "How was your weekend?" "My weekend was fine. Yours?" etc. There's not a single person in the world whose doorstep I could show up on and be welcomed inside.
Which means I'm alone. Which means I have to be done. I have to be okay. But that's alright, it's nothing new. Being okay is my thing.
"Yeah, I'm done." For a moment I consider trying to subtly wipe my mouth, but then I decided against it. Nothing is shameful unless you let yourself be ashamed. And I refuse to be ashamed anymore. So I look Jack straight in the eye as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, daring him to say something, daring him to try to shame me. He doesn't even try to meet this challenge. I don't think it's because he's intimidated by me though. It's more like he's been waiting for me to do this, waiting for me to stop being a sheep.
"Took you long enough." Jack checks his phone, "Get ready to move."
For a moment I think about asking him why. But it's pretty obvious why; I just got broken out of a prison in a cop car. Just because we're out of the jail itself doesn't mean everyone will give up and stop looking for me. Which means people will be looking for a stolen cop car, which means we can't be in a stolen cop car.
Instead of talking I breathe. I brace myself. I wait. Except it seems like I'm waiting for nothing. When you look up "the middle of nowhere" this road shows up. It's the sort of place where you could get a flat tire and still forget about it. Abandoned strip mall along the side, road slightly unkempt but not disturbingly so. The only thing about it that could be considered remarkable in the slightest is the seeming lack of anything alive. Except for me and Jack. And even we're questionable.
Except that can't be right. Something has to be here, some way for us to get out. For a moment I entertain the thought that this might all be some giant government set up, that Jack is actually an agent sent to make me commit a crime that'll put me behind bars forever. But I have to dismiss that thought. Because those guards weren't playing at being dead. Because there's no reason to set me up.
Whenever people in movies say that there's "no reason to set them up" there is, but that's not the case for me. Unless the government has started going after people who obsessively apply for scholarships and don't talk to their moms. Which most likely isn't the case. Which means that Jack has as much to lose as I do. Which means I'm safe. Hopefully.
Since there's no one else around it's safe to go way over the speed limit. Or at least it's a safe bet we won't attract unwanted notice. Although since we're in a police car most people probably wouldn't think anything of anything we do. Police have a tendency to get away with anything they do. Because they're "serving their country". Maybe growing up as an army brat has jaded me or something but I think there are too many bad cops to call any of them heroes. Serve and protect. That should make me feel safe, but instead, I've spent my whole life scared of them. I was born in the US, my mom is here legally. I shouldn't have to be afraid. But I am. Because these days it feels like it doesn't really matter whether you're a legal immigrant or not, people see the colour of your skin and the decide they know everything about you. For some people that perceived knowledge translates directly into hate. Police officers, who hold positions of relative power, have a way to translate that hate into pain. And it won't be a pain for them.
For the first time in my life, I'm not the one being taken advantage of by people in power. Now it's my turn to take advantage. It should feel better than it does, but in reality, it just makes me feel kind of sick to my stomach. Again.
This time though I don't let it get ahead of me. I keep control of myself. I breathe in. Out. In. Out. Until the nausea passes.
"Get out." Jacks voice has lost its regular carefree tone. We're still in the middle of nowhere, now without even a strip mall to keep us company. But I do as I'm told.
Stepping out of the car feels almost as if I'm stepping into another world. A world totally separate from any other world before it. It's not a world I want to live in. None of this is a world I would've chosen to be in. But then again, I haven't lived in a world I'd have chosen for a long long time. And here I am.

Before Jack leaves the car too he pops the gas tank. It only strikes me what he's going to do a moment before he drops the match into the gas tank. 

A/N

Sorry about not updating last week, life happens. I really did mean to. And yes I did write the majority of this in 37 minutes after I re-realized that I hadn't done it (at like 3:00 I said I was going to do it, started, and then stopped). So sorry if it's not great, and sorry if it seems like it's going really slowly. I'm working on it. Anyways, hope you liked it!