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Cut Too Deep

By:Marissa Farrar

Chapter One





“Shit, shit, shit.”

Jenna banged her fists on the steering wheel, punctuating each swear word.

The strange rattling her old Honda had been making for the last couple of days had finally caused the car come to a halt. She’d managed to pull the vehicle over before it stalled on her, but now she was stuck God-knew where with no way of getting on the move again.

She cursed herself for trying to save a few pennies and not getting the breakdown coverage on her insurance. She should have known she’d end up needing it, especially considering her car was more than ten years old and currently covered hundreds of miles a week.

Sitting back in her seat, she let out a sigh. First thing she needed to do was figure out where the hell she was. She’d not planned on stopping for at least another fifty miles or so, and so hadn’t paid attention to which towns were located on this route.

A sign was positioned on the road up ahead. She craned her neck forward, squinting, trying to read it.

Arlington, three miles.

She’d never heard of the place before. It was bound to be a tiny hick-town, but as long as it had a garage, she couldn’t complain.

Jenna glanced over her shoulder at her belongings piled in the back seat. Her clothes were strewn everywhere. Take-out boxes, empty candy wrappers, and plastic soda bottles littered the passenger foot well. Though most of the time germs made her nervous, for some reason the car felt like her own personal space, somewhere infections from the outside world couldn’t enter. While she always used disinfectant wipes if someone else touched the car for any reason, her own mess didn’t bother her.

Two thoughts entered her mind: did she intend on abandoning all her worldly belongings on the side of the road while she walked to the next town, and was she really going to let a mechanic see the God-awful mess her car was in? She wasn’t about to start clearing the interior up now, but she couldn’t leave all of her belongings here. While she didn’t own much, leaving her laptop in the car wasn’t even an option. She could survive without everything else, but her laptop was her means for survival, and if she didn’t have the piece of equipment, she didn’t work. If she didn’t work, she didn’t eat, and in Jenna’s mind that was as bad as not living at all.

She sighed again and reached across the seat to gather her laptop bag and purse. The rest of her stuff would have to stay. At least she was wearing sneakers, so she wouldn’t have to worry about getting blisters on the walk.

Jenna pulled her long, dark curls into a hair-band and secured it so her hair was out of her face. She opened the car door and climbed out, pulling her bags out with her. Slinging them over her shoulder, she started the walk into town.

Within ten minutes, she found herself huffing and puffing. Her bags seemed to double in weight with every step she took. She wasn’t one for hitting the gym, and the extra pounds on her body, combined with her aversion to exercise, meant her hips and knee joints were starting to ache. The three miles suddenly felt like a ridiculously long distance.

A couple of cars drove by and she considered sticking out her thumb. But the chance of any of them heading to the next town was pretty remote. Most continued along the highway. She walked down the side of the exit ramp, following the sign for Arlington. The day was overcast, but still warm, and sweat began to form beneath her arms and drip into her cleavage. Her footsteps grew heavy, and the insides of her thighs started to rub.

The roar of an engine approached from behind. She glanced back to see a flatbed Ford truck start to slow as it reached her. The truck was old—at least 1970s—but was in immaculate condition, the red paintwork shiny.

Jenna hesitated, unsure if she should pretend she hadn’t noticed and keep walking, or if she should turn and flag the truck down. They were on the two lane road leading to Arlington now, and the truck was headed in the right direction.

She hoisted her bags into a more comfortable position, her back groaning in response. Sweat ran from her hairline and into her eyes, stinging. Damn it. She’d only walked about a mile, and the thought of doing twice that again made up her mind.

Plastering on her most winning smile, and hoping whoever was driving didn’t notice her sweaty face and dark patches on her t-shirt, she turned with a hand held out.

The driver had already begun to signal and pull in toward her. She hoped she hadn’t just flagged down a mass murderer or rapist. She was only too aware of the dangers that faced a woman alone on the road, though people she’d known had caused her more harm than a stranger ever had.

The truck stopped just ahead, and Jenna broke into a slow run to reach it, hoping she didn’t stumble over the gravel, clumps of weeds, and potholes on the side of the road. She accidentally kicked an empty soda can and sent it skittering across the asphalt.