A/N: This is based on a german short film called. "Cowboy" People who do not like slash, please don't read.
This. This would be a real shitty way to die. Next to a murdering psychopathic arsehole who would hot wire his car smear it filthy with blonde prostitutes, then sell it for a teaspoon of crack or pair of new trainers. The stingy silent bastard. How was he going to explain why it looked like he'd slit someone's throat in here? He cursed as he could feel his own blood rise against his socks. The car had to be cleaned , but they couldn't go looking like this. He racked his brain, where do normal people usually go in sitations like this? Hospital, that's right he needed to see a nurse a doctor, someone who was qualified to stitch and bind and heal. But he really wanted to go alone. The pressure of the hatred he felt was like a gangrene tumor poisioning his brain. He tried to inject logic as a cure, of course if he kicked this homewrecking lying sleaze out now they'd be questions, and there was no question this country bumpkin was one dirty manipulator who would strangle his own mother and grandmother in the same night if the price was right. Both their so-called hearts infected tension through their bodies went they got closer to the city, he stopped the car so suddenly, he could hear his passenger's pea sized brain rattle in its skull. "Lie on the floor in the back" He told him, never once turning to view a sight of the hurricane hillblilly. "Got a better view this end" He told him leaning back into his seat which he knew would piss him off. " I don't have time" "Time for what" "These pissing contests, these games, your games, you either get into the back, or get out" He was met by silence and the only thing that would make this son of satan move was blame. "I'm losing a lot of blood" "Have some of mine" "If anything happens...they'll know you were here...forensics...It's a marvellous thing" Rude comments of slience irritated the blood out of him, but finally the prodigal pun got out the car, shutting the door and and for a brief heavenly moment, he thought this car crash kid would speed out of his problems for good, but he didn't.
The freakshow farmboy opened the back doors and lay sideways on the back seats. He dared him to look at him through glance alone, but he'd rather die a slow and torturous death before he'd let that happen again. He had to park a way away so that weirdo wouldn't be seen, he couldn't lie and say that he was fine, he felt like fainting everytime he even thought about putting his foot on the pavement. The nurse, wanted him to stay for observation but he kindly refused, he was lucky if that banjo boy had kept his car where he left it. Limping to his car, he was annoyed when the door wasn't left open. Typical teenagers, never doing anything, for anyone else. He opened the door and slowly sat down. "Have fun?" the American psycho asked, even though he wasn't. He immediately reached into his suitcase and got out his wallet. It would have been a ideal time for this kid to take the whole thing, he'd stolen nearly everything else.
But the lad didn't do anything, but watched the little square object with supiciously. "There" He said, pulling out two hundred quid, "Go" Although the lad rolled his eyes, he was actually a little shocked that he'd get rid of him that easily. It was under five hundred, how was that supposed to fucking last...Avoiding glances back he thought he knew what was wrong. "I'll take about five out, get you a T-shirt" "No" He turned around. "Just give me your shirt" "Fuck. Off" "It's quicker" "This shirt is expensive it's silk alright?" The lad pretended to be asleep in the back. "mmm...what...you're mistaking me for someone who cares, anyway, you owe me new stuff" Excuse me" He said, taking his jacket off. "What I did, needs a favour, new clothes fancy bar, pay and get me wasted" "You're delusional" He replied taking his shirt off relieved he'd put a T-shirt on underneath, the last thing he need was this "playboy" taking the piss. "Here" He said chucking the T-shirt on. "You don't have to give me this back" Thought it cost shiteloads" "If I never get to see you again, it's worth it" Finally he knew he didn't have to tell him twice. The kid got out of the car, money stuffed in his pocket, rejection forming into anger kicking any type of object that he could find. His driver breathed a deep sigh of relief as his leg twinged. That kid was pure demented evil, and a huge annoying weight was lifted off his shoulders. God would forgive him for all of this surely, but with no-where to hide, he had to endure the wrath of his girlfriend first.
