Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rubber handles vibrated against her gloved palms as gravel flew up behind the back wheel, the hum of the engine bounced throughout the girls black helmet as the wind pummeled her skin. Like angry fists at a bar fight, she wouldn't know about that though. The girl hadn't been to a bar in over five years, hell she hasn't even seen the sun in five years. I guess that's what happens when your labeled as a eleven year old psychopath, and dragged away from your home to a random place somewhere in Alabama to be placed in a high security prison. The young girls trial was rigged, all she was trying to protect her family and instead she ended up being shoved in a cop car and cuffed to the defendant desk in a straight jacket . While her ass of a brother claimed she was guilty, and I guess the judge's in Alabama are more willing to believe a forever wasted twenty one year old instead of a eleven year old with blood on her hands. Snapping out of her hate filled thoughts she began to feel the engine on her motorcycle stutter, quickly casting her gaze down at the fuel gauge and watched as the red spindle slowly began to seep down to E. Cursing under her breath she yanked the handles to the right, jerking the black shiny bike to the side of the road. Her calloused hand squeezed the brake back the resistance of the lever pushing into her gloved palm as the cycle came to a complete stop. The girls teeth grazed her chapped lips as she yanked the key out of the ignition listening to the engine sputter and then die. Watching as the black combat boot shoved the kickstand down swinging her leg over the padded seat and stared out at the water that was two miles from the road she was on, it was the Gulf Coast. She had never seen it in person, when she first arrived in Alabama the trip was in a prison security transport, chains locked around her ankles and wrist digging into the girls soft skin leaving them raw and bloody.
Casting her gaze down the road a small Shell gas station stood just before the state line, a smirk tugged at her lips as she un clipped the helmet that encased her head, strong hands moved on their own yanking the constricting piece of poly carbonate plastic off her head. The girls light brown hair fell to her shoulders as a light breeze caressed her face, a quick breath left the small girls parted lips as she shoved the helmet onto its resting place on the handle bars of the bike. Taking a deep breath she yanked the cycle to its up right position and began walking it towards the gas station, the walk only took about ten minutes from where she originally was but it sure as hell felt like an hour. Rolling the bike up to the first of the two gas pumps she focused on getting gas into her vehicle. As the pump flashed off it's words saying it was ready, she twisted the fuel cap and quickly stuck the nozzle into the hole in the gas tank. Gas started flowing into the cycle. While she began leaning back on the pump as the notorious smell of the power liquid filled the air. the girl had always loved the smell of gasoline, she didn't care how bad it is for you it always reminded her of when she was five and her best friend JJ Maybank would chase her around his Dads garage trying to squirt her with the grease gun. This was of course before his dad Luke Maybank became the king of all assholes her Dad being second in line for the thrown, a smirk spread across her lips as she relived the memory. One thing you should know about this girl, is that she doesn't smile. In prison being innocent and naive will get you killed, you have to grow up the minute you step through those gates of hell. If you don't, it's game over for you broski. Like every time you fall into lava in Super Mario Bros, except this time you can't respawn to save Princess Peach and live happily ever after until the next game comes out.
