Hi.

This chapter is dedicated to bhamelly14 because she is the muse of my writing and I can only do so much to show how grateful I am for her. Thank you ♥

"I am going to murder you."

"Should I be scared?"

"Very."

"Aww, I'm terrified. What's my little kitten gonna do to me now?" Scar replied sarcastically. I tried to ignore the fluttering feeling I got in my stomach when he said my little kitten. Even though it was supposed to annoy me, which it did, I still felt kind of special when he said that I was his. Stupid, I know.

We had been walking for God knows how long now. It had to be hours. Scar and I had been bickering all the way. He even threatened to tie me to a tree and leave because I wouldn't stop telling him facts about wolves, which was my current obsession. After I pointed out that he had no rope, Scar threw a lit cigarette into my face, which I just barely managed to avoid.

The sky was darkening very quick. Twilight was falling, and there was still no sign of civilization. A few hours ago, Scar had admitted that he had no idea where we were going. We seemed to be following one road, which was the gravel path. Scar just went where the road went, I noticed.

I lagged behind him, exaggerating my groans. Which wasn't hard, considering I was as tired as I managed to sound. My feet had popped up numerous blisters, my legs ached with all the walking, and I was starving. 

Scar, on the other hand, showed no signs of fatigue. While I was practically falling down with each step, he merely glanced at me and continued walking with his hands in his pocket and a cigar in his mouth.

I needed a distraction.

"Why'd your parents name you Scar, anyways? It's kind of unusual." I said, huffing and puffing behind him like I just ran a marathon.

"I don't know." he replied vaguely. "My parents are weird like that, I suppose. Were."

I stopped, taking in a deep breath. "I'm sorry." I said quietly, not knowing if he heard. 

He did.

"Genevieve, don't start a pity party. It's fine. They died a few years ago."

"If you don't mind me asking...what happened?"

''Drunk driver." he replied. His tone was even, but anyone could hear the bitterness to which he said it with. I jogged up a few paces so I wouldn't be so further back. Scar was smoking yet another cigarette. I wondered how many were in a pack. I watched as he blew some smoke delicately in the air. It was creepy to stare, I know, but the way he did it was so...mesmerizing.

"I'm sorry."

The sky was incredibly dark as we walked. Night fell faster in the woods, I suppose. Without all the houses and cars and people, everything seemed more....clearer in a way. I glanced up, admiring the minuscule stars in the sky. One was bigger than the rest. I decided then and there that it was my star, or at least for the rest of the night.

"Can't you call someone or something?" I muttered, angrily kicking a stone. It skittered a few feet and stopped near Scar's left foot. Scar eyed me bluntly. 

"No reception." he answered, quickening his pace. I ran to catch up, feeling my muscles protest with the forced movement. We had been walking for hours, and Scar still hadn't stopped walking once. My father and Marie were probably going crazy by now, because I hadn't told them I had detention that afternoon.

Something howled in the distance. I shrieked and stumbled, falling down on the hard ground. Scar was next to me in an instant.

"You okay?" he mumbled, glancing around nervously.

"Find a way out!" I snapped, standing back up. A horrid pain started aching up my knees, adding even more strain to my worn out muscles. I dusted myself off as best as I could and glared at Scar. "Get us out of here, please!"

"All right, kitten." he snapped back. Scar pulled my arm forward, making me walk in front of him now. "Don't loose your shit just yet. I'm sure there's a place around here. I saw a light in the distance a few miles back."

"Are you sure it wasn't just the moon?" I asked sarcastically. 

Scar didn't reply. I let him walk ahead, sulking. We were one hundred percent lost now. We had been following the gravel road for hours now. The sky was completely dark. We were stuck out here in the wilderness with no protection and no light. I should have stayed in the car and at least tried to fix the damn thing. It was a mistake, one that I realized just a few hours too late. 

While I was counting off all the problems in my life, Scar had wandered ahead. He was standing in the distance. I jogged again and as I got closer, I noticed that he had stopped and was waiting for me. Scar was smirking when I finally caught up.

"Told you." he bragged, pointing to something ahead. I looked closer and saw a flash of light in a peek between the trees.

"Come on." he said and began hurrying towards it. I quickly followed behind. We finally cleared the trees. Scar stopped suddenly, making me crash hard into his back. I rubbed my sore nose and stared up at the run-down building.

It was a freaking alcohol bar.

"You cannot be serious." I hissed, looking up in fear. The building was old and intimidating. With board walls and a trash can out front, it looked like a monster waiting to swallow us up. The door was propped open. Gruff voices and boisterous laughter came from the inside, sounding all male. A broken sign above the tavern announced the words Toothless Crossroad's Cellar in thick old-fashioned font. It made me feel even worse.

There were way too many motorcycles in the parking lot than there were cars. And I mean like, bad ass motorcycles. Heavy, black Harley Davidson's with tribal stamps littered the blacktop, not even properly parked in the spaces.

"I'm not gonna go into a freaking bar!" I whisper-yelled. "I'm 16, Scar, I don't even think I'm allowed to go inside." My face paled as I saw a tall, fat man pass the open doorway. Even though we were still from a distance, I could see the large glass of beer in his hand and a long beard on his mean face.

"Genevieve, this is the only place around here that actually has people. People who can help! I doubt there's a phone in the forest. We're lucky to have found this before it closed. Do you want to get home or not?" he said angrily.

Scar started walking towards the tavern with me following meekly behind. Yes, I'll admit it. I was terrified. I had never been to a bar before or tasted a drop of liquor in my life. And I really had no desire to change that. Not tonight at least. I watched Doctor Who, I did not go to strange bars with strange men filled with strange drinks and alcohol.

Scar stepped inside without hesitation. With confidence, like he had been to a ton of bars. I, on the other hand, stumbled on the silver threshold and almost fell. Scar looked at me bemusedly, a wicked glint in his dark eyes. I looked around nervously.

People, mostly men, were milling around. It was filled with rough looking metal heads that were taller than me combined twice. They had tattoos, beards, and deep booming voices. Scar led me to the front where all the drinks were.

The bartender was a thin, skinny man with a bald head and a toothpick in his mouth. He had mean beady eyes and smelled faintly of smoke. He had a scraggly beard and a veiny tattoo that ran up the length of his neck. He was writing something down on a piece of paper but looked up as Scar and I walked towards him. I noticed how his eyes went straight to me instead of to Scar who was in front. He smirked, showing yellow teeth.

"Hey, little girl. What can I get ya?" he asked in a gruff, Southern drawl. He smiled again. It was a polite smile but I still noticed how he looked me straight up and down like I was something to eat. I held back a shiver and sulked behind Scar, who was standing protectively in front of me.

"Do you have a phone we can use?" he asked, his voice dark. I looked around again, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute as more and more of the men turned their eyes to me.

"Yes." the bartender said. I looked back, meeting his eyes. They were as dark as Scars, but held none of the impish playfulness that his did. Scar stepped in front of me, completely shielding me from the snaky eyes of the bartender, and reached behind with one hand to grab my wrist.

"Can we use it?" he asked, a tinge of annoyance in his tone.

"I don't know, son. Can ya'?" the man said. Scar shifted his stance. I felt his fingers tighten around my wrist.

"Look." he spat. "And I mean, look me in the fucking face. Stop staring at the girl. We've had one hell of a day. You're getting on my last fucking nerve, man. Let us use the fucking phone, or I swear to God-

"Respect, brother." the man snarled. "It'll get ya far in life. The phone is in the back. You have 5 minutes, son. And then I want you and your chick outta my bar or I'm calling them bastard cops. I don't tolerate rowdy punks who don't know no manners."

Scar turned around, pulling me roughly to where the man had pointed. I could hear a rough chuckle come from behind us. Just as Scar opened the door, I heard the man shout, "Where do ya pick up prostitutes like that?"

Scar turned around, fury written all over his face. I shook my head, pushing him hard into the storage room before something happened. I had enough drama for tonight. No need to start things that we couldn't finish. Besides, for some strange reason, I didn't want Scar to get hurt. 

I shut the door behind us, cutting off the loud chatter. Scar had angled his face away from me, but I could see his hands shaking with anger. He took a deep breath and turned back around, looking tired and frustrated.

"Scar, I have to get home. Like, right now. My father is going to kill me. You don't have to worry about anything, but I actually have a bedtime to stick to. Which has passed....2 hours ago." I said, glancing worriedly at the clock above his head. The analog clock read 12: 46 a.m.

"You have a bedtime?" he asked in bewilderment. Scar shook his head as if he simply could not believe people had rules for sleeping. He took the phone from its holder, which was hanging by the side of the door. As Scar punched in some numbers, I looked around.

The room was small, to say the least, and even more so now that we were in here. It was a storage room for the bar. Unpacked glasses in styrofoam were stacked on the shelves and an old poster of Rosie the Riveter hung on the cracked wall.

I straightened out my clothes as best as I could. In a hurry this morning, I had thrown on a black skirt with a sweater tucked in. My palms were scratched from breaking my fall back on the road and I could feel some blisters rubbing against the back of my shoes. My hair was a mess from the wind. I reached up to smooth it out, plucking out a dead leaf from the back.

I twirled the leaf between my fingers, examining the object. I had always been a sucker for science. I wanted to be a scientist when I grew up. Nature was almost an obsession for me.

While I was thinking this, Scar had already hung up the phone. He turned around and eyed me strangely.

"What are you doing?"

I looked up. "Oh. Nothing. It's just that this leaf is an evergreen. And I mean like, the authentic kind. It's not very easy to find in our town. I guess it's because we're close to the woods. Hey, did you know that most coniferous tre-"

Scar grabbed my wrist, making me drop the dead leaf. Just as I was about to protest, he opened the door and pushed us both out into the bar again. I glared at him, a bit ruffled that he was always so uncooperative to learn new facts. I mean, leaves. God's gift to humanity. I didn't understand why Scar hated them so much.

We made our way out of the bar and into the cold night air. Scar didn't even need a cigarette to blow smoke into the air. It was so cold that we could see little clouds from our breathing.

"Who did you call?" I stamped my feet into the ground to get some feeling back into my numb legs. It didn't work.

"A friend." Scar said, leaning against the wall of the tavern. I paced up and down, trying to unclench my legs. I was so tired from all the walking that I could barely stay awake. I would fall asleep if I didn't keep moving, and God knows what Scar would do to me then. Probably draw an uncircumcised penis on my forehead and take pictures.

"Who?" I pressed.

"A friend, little kitten." he repeated with just a bit more growl to his tone. I paused and turned to face him with an eyebrow raised.

"Why do you call me such pet names? I'm not an animal, Scar. Maybe I should compare you to a freaking animal. See how you like it." I muttered angrily.

"Go ahead. I would be a tiger for my manliness and how sexy I am." he said smugly.

"You'd be that asshole lion who killed Mufasa."

He frowned. "Who?"

I stared at Scar in surprise. "Seriously? You've never watched The Lion King? Dude, come on. That's like the best Disney movie ever made."

"I'm not really into Disney movies, Genevieve."

I was about to take another jab at him but the roaring of an engine came down the street. Scar moved away from the wall and walked to the curb. I followed behind, staring at the monster truck that came closer. It had wheels bigger than me and silver flame designs on the sides. My eyes widened. Scar wanted me to get inside that?

He'd have to drag me in, I suppose, because there was no way I'd be getting inside on my own will.