Aunt Jane fills up the rental car with gas from this shady gas station right outside Savannah. We've been camping all weekend at this camp site we always went to. I sit in the car quietly waiting for her to finish. In the car in front of us I see a couple fighting, their screams and curses echo through the station so everyone can hear. At the front of the door, two people are smoking cigarettes and are talking. One of them is older looking with gray hair and wrinkled skin, the other was a young man with piercing on each crevasse of his body. I examine them for a long time.
"It's rude to stare Dakota." Aunt Jane taps the window. I roll it down with the crank. It's not the best rental car ever.
"Sorry, can I use the bathroom," I nag.
"Soon, just wait for me," she looks around real quick with big brown eyes, "This isn't the ideal location for children to be alone."
"I have to go now, I've been holding it for 4 hours," I complain. I feel like I'm going to burst open.
"Fine," she hands me a dollar. "Get a soda while you're in there."
I open the car door and slide out. I shut it with the rusty handles and walk in.
I pass the smokers and they ignore me and keep smoking. I hold my breath so I can't smell the chemicals.
The bathroom was a one person stall with a flickering light and a drippy sink. I finish my business and buy Jane her soda. The cashier was a pale boy with gages in his ears.
"89 cents," he says in a cold voice.
"Thanks," I smile but I don't get one back in return.
I began to walk out the door, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me.
"What are you doing alone little girl?" A man with missing teeth and a beanie says getting in my face. His breath smells like alcohol and smoke.
"Jane!" I try to pull away but his grip tightens.
"Little girl, you're okay," he smiles a toothless smile.
I start to panic, "Jane!" I scream loudly this time she hears me, dropping the gas pump she runs to me pulling out her concealed carry.
"Put her down," she says aiming the pocket sized gun at his chest.
He drops my wrist immediately and the cashier's jaw drops.
"Ma'am put that down or I'll have to call the police."
"Dakota, get in the car," she says.
I run back to the rusty car and she shortly follows. She turns the key and the weak engine puffs. She squeals out of the parking lot leaving tire tracks behind her.
I knew she had the concealed carry but I've never thought she would have to point it at someone.
We drive in silence for a long time.
The sun peaks through the window. There's enough light to make out the figure in front of me. His face was in his palms and he was shaking his head.
"Glenn," I whimper in a weak voice.
"Oh god, you're up," he looks surprise. He grabs a cup from the side table and brings it up to my dry lips. "You're dehydrated, you need water."
"How long was I out?" I ask, my voice sounds like gravel under tires.
"Long time, few days." He shakes his head, "You're quite popular, A lot of people came to visit. Maggie, Carl, Michonne, Rick, and Tara."
"Tara? She's okay?" I try sitting up, getting excited. A pain rushes through me.
"Yeah, take it easy. I'm going to get Carol."
He comes back with Carol later. She smiles at me a broken smile and attends my wound.
"I'm going to clean it alright?" She rubs alcohol on a tissue.
"That's going to hurt, isn't it." I wasn't stupid, I've seen it before on TV.
She bites her lower lip and sighs, "yes, you need to stay still though."
I brace myself for the pain. It wasn't as bad as I thought. It burnt a little but mostly made my arm felt numb.
"You're a tough kid," she says, she wraps a gauze around my shoulder.
"Please don't call me that," I say patiently.
She sits there and says nothing. After awhile she says, "The bullet was nice to you. We took it out in one piece," she hands me the small bullet from the bed side table. I played with it in my hands for awhile. This is what almost killed me. It was so small, yet it could do so much harm.
"Glen thinks this is his fault," I blurted out. "It's not, I was the one that followed him in the woods."
She thinks for a minute then says, "You need to let him know that. He's been worried sick, he hasn't left the room until now."
I feel a ball of guilt form in my stomach. People usually don't worry about me. I do remember when Aunt Jane and the doctors thought my thyroid had become cancerous, she got so worried she wouldn't stop squeezing my hand. This was a lot different. I could have died both times but the bullet was so much more surreal.
"All done," she says admiring her work.
"Can I get up now," I say moving but then following back down to my position on the bed.
"You need to rest," she tucks my covers in.
I lay back down on the bed. When she leaves I'm alone in the room. I begin to cry. I don't know why exactly but I can't contain my tears.
I feel like I'm stuck here.