A Violet Turning {closed}

[Cesca]

When they get what they want, they never want it again...

For the first time in two years, she felt as if she had every aspect of her life under control. She sat in the back of the bus, her backpack crammed with hotel towels and complimentary soap. Dressed in her sole set of clothing and worn cowboy boots, she stared out the foggy bus window at the distant lights of Memphis. She didn’t care how long the bus ride would take; she didn’t even know when the designated rest stops would take place. She leaned her head back on her seat and listened to the crackling jazz music that poured from the bus speakers.

Two seats in front of her, a woman lit a cigarette, her third in the last half hour. Cesca wished she’d saved a bit more money to afford a pack of smokes, but she settled on catching the smoke that wafted from the tip of the woman’s Marlboro. It was just her luck that the woman smoked Marlboro Lights.

“You’re going home for the holidays?” The voice nearly gave Cesca a heart attack!

Opening her eyes, she turned towards the pair of seats across from her. While the aisle seat remained empty, a man occupied the window seat. Nothing about him appeared unusual, except for his choice of clothing. Then again, Cesca had no room for such judgments. She wore an old jean skirt and a flannel shirt she’d tied in the front to expose part of her stomach; a tan leather coat shielded her from the December air.

“I didn’t care for Memphis life,” she said with a smile. “The people were rude.” She shifted in her seat to try and hint that she didn’t want to have a conversation.

“I agree with you.” He smiled, his lips moving slowly to form the expression.

“Rest stop in two hours. Jarrett, Tennessee.” The bus driver called out as he switched lanes.

The man never took his eyes off of her. She knew the look in his dark eyes. She’d seen the same exact look in the eyes of her former customers; every prostitute in Memphis knew a prospective buyer on the spot. Something wasn’t quite right though, and she had no idea what thoughts went on behind his brown eyes.

“My name is Joel.” Cesca raised a brow at the odd name. “My parents were religious.” He shrugged a shoulder in response, his movements graceful, as smooth as silk.

“Francesca,” Cesca said, turning her green eyes back to her window.

“Fran? Frannie? No, you’re a Cesca girl, aren’t you?” No one had ever guessed her nickname so quickly before.

“Yeah, actually. How did you know?” She couldn’t help but smile at him, even if they’d only just met.

[Cesca]

He leaned into the aisle, his arms resting on the arm of the seat. The way he stretched his hand out made it seem as if he were going to touch her arm. Instead, he tugged on the ID tag that dangled from a clip on her backpack. Up close, she found him rather attractive. Light brown hair and the darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen combined to make him rugged and handsome. She hardly noticed when an hour passed. And then the hour turned to two.

The bus pulled into a truck stop and the interior lights flickered to life. The Marlboro woman had already pushed her way down the aisle and out of the charter bus, leaving the other passengers to file after. Cesca dug some spare change from within her bag and followed Joel off the empty bus. The truck stop’s diner had flickering neon lights and promising pictures of roast beef sandwiches and homemade fries, but Cesca knew she had to call her parents. Twenty-two years old or not, her parents worried.

She went into the other building on the lot, the one that housed restrooms, vending machines, and pay phones. It was in the lobby where she finally found a phone that accepted her change. All the while, the other people went in and out of the restrooms.

“Mom? Dad?” Cesca cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear. “Are you guys awake still?” She glanced at the ancient clock in the corner of the lobby. 12:57 A.M. “I’m on the bus home, like I promised. Thanks again for the ticket. I love you guys, and I’ll see you soon.”

She didn’t want to hang up, but the answering machine kicked off. She listened as her change filtered through the machine. Who knew when her parents would check their messages.

“No luck with the call?” Joel offered her more change, but she shook her head.

“They’re asleep. They leave a key out, so I’ll just let myself in, if I need to.” She noticed that the lobby only held the two of them. “You want to get something to eat?” It was unlike her to be so extroverted, but she’d glimpsed a few drunken truckers with a couple of roadside prostitutes.

“I am a little hungry. My treat?” He offered her his arm, a rather old gesture.

By the time they ordered and received their food, the bus driver was already rounding up the people to pull out. Cesca sipped at her vanilla milkshake, alternating drinking and stuffing fries into her mouth. She wasn’t the type of girl to care about her appearance when she was starving. She hadn’t had such a good meal in weeks!

“Take your time. I won’t take it from you,” Joel chuckled, his eyes straying to the bus driver.

Cesca never heard the bus driver’s calls for the passengers. Joel answered the driver with a small nod, and the man never even bothered going to their table. As she ate the remainder of her club sandwich, the charter bus pulled out of the truck stop lot.

“Thank you!” Cesca threw an arm around his shoulders when the two headed to the front counter to pay for the meal.

[Cesca]

“It was my pleasure. You are good company, Cesca Bianchi.” She never even caught that he’d said her last name, a fact she neglected to tell him earlier.

“You didn’t eat anything though. I feel bad, man.” He held up a hand to silence her complaints. “All right! Come on. Hurry up and pay. Bus driver’s probably shitting his pants looking for us.” She held her coat tighter around herself and hopped a little in place.

“I doubt they will mind. Let’s go,” Joel smiled, taking her arm once more.

Her boots crunched on the gravel that covered the truck stop lot. The space where their bus had been parked belonged to an empty dairy truck from out of town. Cesca feared few things, so it came as no surprise that she didn’t panic. She thought of hitchhiking her way back to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It was only when Joel spoke that her thoughts stopped.

“It seems as if they left without us,” Joel frowned, glancing in either direction for a sign of their charter bus.

“It’s not a big deal. We can catch a lift with a trucker and keep doing that until we reach our home states.” Cesca noticed how deserted the truck stop appeared at two in the morning. “It’s getting cold, so we should wait inside.” As she turned to head back towards the warm diner, he gripped her arm tighter. “Ow, okay. I’m not going without you.” When she smiled at him for reassurance, she noticed the hungry glint in his eyes.

He looked at her like every other man had looked at her when she worked the streets, except he actually had the nerve to smile. It was a sinister grin. She opened her mouth to scream, but he easily slipped his hand over her open mouth. Cesca bit down on his hand, but he didn’t react at all. The more she squirmed, the more he smiled. They moved further away from people, further away from any hope of salvation.

“You’re going to leave me to die!” Cesca’s voice was hoarse, and it prevented the noise from carrying.

“You won’t die. I’m not that nice.” She thought he was going to rape her when he’d wrapped his arms around her, but he merely kissed along her neck.

She’d never savored a sunrise or a sunset before that night. She took her heartbeat and her rosy complexion for granted. When she drew her last breath into her lungs, she looked up at the starry sky as if some sort of heavenly guardian would take her away from the pain that assaulted every fiber of her being.

He presented his own wrist to her, but he gave her only a taste of his precious blood. His blood was her recycled life force and his own immortality laced together, a metallic, bittersweet liquid. He left her behind the diner, her back pressed against the ice-covered concrete. Snowflakes covered her old clothing, and single snowflakes began to coat her hair. All the while, she lay there. She never saw Joel again. He didn’t want her anymore.