"When I'm on the road"
"Sing it, Jason!"
"I see stuff passing by!"
"Tell them, baby!"
"When I'm on the road"
"What do you have, honey?"
"I've got a big bug in my eye!"
"Whooh!"
"I don't know the lyrics anymore, Lych!"
"Hah, it's fine! We're almost at the hotel!"
"Dine and dash again?"
"Well, I ain't paying and you got no money, Jason."
"Cheers to that!"
My life as a fugitive is nothing but fun.
All my life, I've been confined in a box by my father. Then by the crazy psychopath that is kind of my ex.
Rules. Expectations. Fear of getting abandoned. Of being lonely. Of being a disappointment.
Of being killed.
But now?
I don't have to worry about the wealth of etiquette. About being a good son or useful enough to not get cut up and displayed.
It's been a few days since I took the first car I saw on the highway and left Emiliano behind. I don't think about him that much.
He must have made his way back safely. The wound wasn't that deep.
Was it?
