You guys, I just... I don't even know where this came from. I glanced at my copy of The Hitcher earlier and then went about my day. When I sit down to write, this comes out. I don't know and I'm sorry lol. Enjoy?
Quinn sits crumbled in the backseat, her too small dress showing off her black bra and boobs that still haven't gone back down to their regular size. Her legs are splayed in front of her, bent almost awkwardly so that her black bare feet don't hit the other side of the car, her ripped dress pushed up to reveal almost all of her legs.
Rachel sits in the passenger seat, brown hair being whipped around by the rolled down window. Her sweater is dirty and hangs off one of her shoulders, the cream color drowned out by dirt and blood. She stares blankly out the window past Puck's head, watching as the scenery passes blurry and dark. She glances down at her feet. Her nail polished is chipped and she only has one flip-flop.
Puck races down the highway at 80 miles an hour. His hands grip the steering wheel so tight that it turns his knuckles white, making the blood on them stand out even more. The cut on his eyebrow is still bleeding fast, so much so that he thinks if he doesn't put pressure on it soon, he won't be able to see out of that eye. He gropes around for his jacket before he realizes it's gone, they used it to cover his face, and he curses under his breath. He chews on his bottom lip before switching gears and looking over at Rachel, and then through the rear view mirror at Quinn.
"We fucked up." Quinn pulls her legs closer to her body, revealing the deep cut on her calf. Rachel takes off her sweater (winces slightly at the stinging she feels in her shoulder) and leans into the backseat to wrap the sweater tight around the open gash.
Puck slows down the car until finally they come to a stop in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night. He lifts up the bottom of his shirt as he turns off the car, putting pressure on to his own cut.
"What do we do now?" Quinn shrugs and Puck's face is hidden by his shirt.
"We're in the middle of nowhere right," Quinn asks and the brunettes look at her skeptically. "Why not just dump him?" She starts biting on her nails as soon as she suggests it.
"Nah, that's not how shit works out. People always get caught, even when they think that dumping a body in the middle of nowhere will work," Puck retorts, surveying how much blood is on his shirt. "And besides, it's dark as fuck right now. Who's to say we'll get the fuck back to the car after we dump him a few miles into the dark?"
"Well what the fuck do you think we should do Puck? We have a body in the god damn trunk and we look guilty as hell," Quinn bitches and Rachel decides to step in.
"You guys, we can't fight about this. We need to keep thinking rationally."
Quinn laughs. The irony is all too obvious.
"It's two thirty. We're covered in blood and dirt. I'm topless and Quinn might as well be naked. You have the knife in your pockets. We need to do something now that doesn't include fighting." She looks between Quinn and Puck, waiting for them both to nod in agreement. When they finally do, she sighs lightly. "Noah, what do you suggest we do?"
"Clean the car, then dump it somewhere out here. It's not like it's any of ours anyway." She and Quinn share a look. "It'll take too much time, I know. But do you know how much time we'll spend in prison otherwise?"
"Puck, it's two in the god damn morning. Where are we going to get cleaning supplies and how the fuck will we get out of this god damn desert after we ditch the car?"
"Can you stop being such a bitch for two god damn seconds?!"
"ENOUGH!" They both shut their mouths and look at Rachel. "Take off all your clothes," she instructs, opening the glove box and digging around for a second. "Cut off the tags." She hands Quinn the pocket knife first. She grabs the keys from Puck's hands.
"What're you doing," he asks as Quinn looks at her skeptically from the backseat.
"Taking control since you two apparently lose your shit when you murder someone." She opens the car door and walks around to the trunk, sliding the key into the hole and lifting the heavy metal.
She can't see his face (they wrapped Puck's jean jacket around it and tied it with the strings from Quinn's dress) but the rest of his body looks so fucked up that she can't even fathom how bad his face is. She looks around the trunk, trying to spot anything that'll tell her what this guy was like before they ran into each other. There's a spare tire, trash, and (to her delight) heroin needles.
"Noah," she says loudly, looking around the car to lock eyes with his in the side view mirror. "Check the glove box and everywhere else for drugs. If your find some, don't touch it."
Quinn steps out the other side of the car in her bra and underwear, tags in one hand, her and Puck's clothes in the other. "What now?"
Rachel reaches around the dead body and grabs an old Wal-Mart bag and a happy meal box. "Put the clothes in one, tags in the other," she instructs and the blonde does as she's told. "Help me get him into the back seat."
Quinn's eyes go ride. "No fucking way. I'm not sitting back there with him."
Rachel grabs her wrist. "You'll sit in the front with us just hurry the fuck up."
"Found… heroin? Coke? I don't know. It's powdery and in a tiny bag, I'm assuming it's some sort of drug," Puck calls from inside the car and Rachel nods her head.
"Come help us."
They manage to get the body into the backseat and Rachel props his head up against the door handle. She leaves the jacket on his face. "Okay. We're going to drive to the first gas station. We're going to call Brittany and ask her to come get us. We'll drive back to this spot, ditch the car and then ride home with her. When we reach city limits, we throw out the bag with the clothes. When we get home, we'll dump the happy meal box in some random trashcan. Brittany won't ask questions and we'll never bring this up again."
Puck grips the steering wheel, Quinn pushed close to him as Rachel slams the door behind her. They look at each other before nodding at Rachel.