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Description
Chapter 1 – Breaking Down

The engine moaned low behind the mutter of the radio, something on the news about a robbery, two people were dead, that was all you caught. Tiny flecks of dust and grit bounced off the car, the tires kicking up dust as you drove, drove with no sense of direction, no destination, no care for where the next gas station was, no desire to know the way back as you took one turn after the next, it was over, life was left behind, your whole damn life working towards something and it was all over. The last two weeks had crumbled like wet paper in your hands, the inky words blotched out like your hopes and dreams, every perfect detail you had tried to bring into your life, weave into your being, was gone.

His face, his smile, the smell you were so familiar inhaling as his arms pulled you into his t shirt. How could he throw away the past four years of your life together, you slammed your fist against the wheel, watching the speed climb up as you pushed your foot to the floor, tiny beads of sweat gathered on your neck and between your breasts, the heat of the Senora desert sun was burning you through the windows, you could feel the heat in your cheeks as you cut through the dry, silent air. You felt tears streaming down, biting your lip to keep back any sobs, you had waisted enough tears, but that thought didn't stop them.

You blinked, trying to clear your blurry vision, looking down at your hands gripping the wheel, in the split second that you returned your eyes to the road, an animal ran across your path, a dog maybe, you didn't have time to think, swerving the car to the side, your tires caught a rocky bump and with the speed it was enough to send you into the air. It happened so fast you couldn't remember anything, just the lurching of your stomach, the way the seat belt grated across your skin, the sound of glass crushing, the way your body was knocked around, then the sharp pain when something hit the back of your head, a wave of sickness that rose into your gut, but the world had faded, your vision empty, just painful sensations and noise, so much noise, clattering metal grating the ground as the car rolled, you urged, but before long the world was silent, colourless, shapeless, sightless, nothing.

Everything was black, any noise was faint. You felt the pounding in your head, like your skull was going to crack open, you forced your eyes to blink, barely aware of the bloody taste in your mouth. You coughed, realising you were upside down. Freeing yourself of the seatbelt, you crawled through broken glass onto the hot desert sand, gripping a handful as you chocked a small cry. Your body shook, you couldn't place what had happened, your mind was racing as you reached for your phone – no signal. “Oh no no no, God no! This can't be happening.” You muttered, trembling as you looked back to the car. The once beautiful Porsche was on it's roof, buckled under it's own weight, the windows smashed out, looking like a shadow of it's former self. Everything really was gone now.

You stumbled to your feet, wincing as your knees moved, little fragments of broken glass in them, and your palms, streaks of blood tricking out of the small wounds. You let out a strangled cry. Looking around, nothing, absolutely nothing. You slumped next to the car, peeling your dark blazer away from you, tugging the black heels off of your feet, it was 1pm, the full heat of midday scolded you for being out, and you rested your head back against the hot metal of the car, and felt your eyelids fall shut, to blackness once again.

You were jerked awake when you felt hands gripping your face, it wasn't comforting, but a firm hold, your eyes snapped open to look into wide brown eye, staring at you. You let out a slight scream, trying to scrambled back, hitting your body hard against the car.

“You're not dead then.” His hand dropped your face, a small smile creeping onto his lips.

“Jesus, who are you?” The rasp in your voice reminding you of how dry your throat was.

“Names Trevor.” He said, shrugging off your fear as he rose back to his feet. Looking at your wrecked car with a whistle. “So where were you goin'?”

"Nowhere." You admitted through a small humourless laugh, winching at the ache in your ribs.

He slapped his knee and laughed. “Well congratu-fucking-lations, you made it, doll!"

Your brows pinched to a frown. "Excuse me."

"You made it nowhere already, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere."

"I really don't care much at this point."

"Jesus and I thought I was having a bad day...." He rubbed a hand over his rugged face. "Alllright then" he dragged on with some effort, walking away towards an old red truck that sat on the road. “You coming or not, dollface?” He called, turning to look over his shoulder.

“W...what?” You stuttered, struggling to your feet, wincing from the pain it caused.

“Jesus you're not very bright! You're out here, alone, looking half dead, I'm surprised the vultures hadn't already started on your sorry ass.” His voice was gruff, making you shiver even in the hot sun.

You stumbled towards his truck, not really thinking, your head was still throbbing and the simple effort from walking was making you feel sick. You stumbled, bracing yourself for the impact of the baked tarmac, but your wrist was gripped almost painfully by the stranger. “Easy there, sugar.” He steadied you, before opening the truck door.

You climbed in, slumping into the small amount of comfort offered by the seat. “Thank you.” You mumbled, your head lulling back, your eyes half lidded as you watched him examine your palms and knees, hissing as he looked at the cuts.

“You've really gotten yourself fucked up, eh?” He laughed, not that you could see anything funny about it, you were already starting to wonder at your senses for letting a strange, scruffy man pick you up in the middle of nowhere. But what choice was there at this point?

The engine spluttered into life, the truck lurching forward making your body jerk slightly against the seatbelt. You looked across at the man, for the first time noting his appearance, a dirty white t-shirt over a pair of old jeans, he was middle age, receding hairline and something unnerving about him. You were beginning to question how safe you were with this guy.

Wordlessly he shoved a bottle of water towards you. You hesitantly took it, struggling to undo the top with the pain in your hands. “Ah fuck, give it to me.” He snapped, snatching it and unscrewing the top with unnecessary force.

You gulped down the water, it was almost warm from being in his truck all day, but you didn't care, the moisture eased your raw throat so much that to you it tasted like the best thing you had ever drank. “Thanks.” You smiled slightly, looking to the man.

“Soo,” he started, looking from you to the road, “what's a high class thing like you doing so far from the financial district.”

Your laugh turned into a cough and you quickly sipped some more water. “Maybe I just like the views here.”

“Do you think I'm a fucking idiot? You're not here for fucking sight seeing,” his eyes were wide now, his grip on the wheel turning his knuckles white. “you think I don't know that!” He roared.

You felt your knees tremble, what was wrong with him. “No no I was joking.” You defended.

“Oh so you think I'm a fucking joke, huh princess.” He frowned, not looking at you.

“No, look I was fired from my job, it's kind of been a shit day.” You explained, resting your hand on his arm briefly. “I'm sorry, alright.”

Your touch seemed to calm him down, he nodded. “S...sorry.” He almost chocked, squinting his eyes as if trying to silence some inner struggle. “Sounds like it's pretty bad in your life then.” He muttered, turning the radio down a bit.

“Yeah well my boyfriend and I split, I can barely cover the rent, and now I've been fired, I'll lose the apartment I know that, I guess I thought if I just drove and drove...” you trailed off, fighting back tears. “I don't know what I thought...”

Silence followed for a minute or two, you felt his finger catch a tear on your cheek, felt his eyes watching you, swallowing back the thick lump in your throat you turned to face Trevor. He looked, different, like somebody who understood, understood losing everything, maybe you were imagining it, because in the second that followed his eyes were back on the road. “Don't cry. Crying,” he seemed to struggle to find his words, curling one hand into a tight ball in the air. “Crying gets you fucking nowhere,” he seemed angry, fighting the words he said, but it wasn't threatening this time, it was almost childish frustration, like a kid who couldn't remember how to spell a word. “Nobody listens when you cry, you gotta make a different noise, sugar.” His eyes fixed ahead, but not on the road, his sights were set on thoughts and memories you had no idea about.

You hesitated, only nodding for a second. “And what noise do you propose will help me?” You asked, crossing your arms doubtfully.

“The loud kind.” He grinned, looking across to you.

“What, how am I going to make a 'loud noise' and how the hell will that help?” You snapped, this guy really wasn't helping.

“I can see you're pretty new to this, this crisis of losing everything and turning that broken dream into success. That, is why you're fucking lucky to have met uncle T!” He declared, speeding the car up, and it jump forward making your already pounding head rattle.

You passed the rest of the journey in near silence, your aching body lulled into the occasional waves of sleep, feeling groggy from the heat beating down, and finding the low hum of the old classics on the radio like nostalgic lullabies of better days in better years, before your job and fake relationship took such priority.

“Wade, Wade stop touching her, damn it!” You woke up with a start to Trevor shouting, your eyes popping open to meet a wide blue-bloodshot set. You tried to lean away, finding your head pressed back against a musty couch. Before the blue eyed man was pulled to the floor by Trevor who tossed his boot ruthlessly into his stomach. “I said no touching!” He roared.

“S..sorry Trevor, I..I was just tryin'a.”

“I don't care, get out.” Trevor bit back, before turning to you with a slightly award smile. “Sorry, didn't mean to wake you,” he raised his hands in guilt, “but Wade is...is challenging sometimes.” He nodded to himself. “Anyway, since your awake, you'll notice your hands and knees are glass free.” He grinned, gesturing to you.

Blinking you realised they were, and neatly bandaged, how the hell didn't you wake up? “I slept through that?” You questioned.

“Well, yes, no, sort of, does it matter?” He handed you a bottle of water, more shoving it at you when you hesitated.

Your head felt fuzzy and only now were you beginning to realise the filthy state of the place you were in. “It matters.” You muttered, your brows pulling into a frown.

“I gave you a little prick with a needle while you were sleeping, so like sleeping beauty you'd stay sleeping, while I had my guy Ron rip glass outta you, what would you have rather been awake?” He gave you a look

You practically choked on your drink. “You what?” You practically demanded.

He laughed, tossing his head back as he looked at you. “Jesus sweetcheeks, it was nothing bad, just a little something to make things easier.”

You didn't answer, just stared ahead at the disgusting state of a...kitchen? Dirty dishes piled high in the sink, the only signs of food were cereal boxes and leftover take-out sitting on the surfaces, beer and cola cans were scattered amidst the chaotic view. You felt disgusted, disgusted but something else, something you should have perhaps not felt, sympathy, what had lead him to living like this? “Well,” you said finally, “thank you, for helping me so much.” You looked back to him, offering a genuine smile that he seemed unsure of how to react to.

“No problem,” he nodded, “one way to spend Friday afternoon.” He chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You still haven't told me your name.”

“(y/n).”

“(y/n), beautiful,” he said slowly, as if tasting your name like the first bite of ice cream melting over his tongue on a hot summers day. “Oh I like it!”

“Well, I ah should get a taxi or something.” You said, rising from the couch trying to ignore the sharp stinging in your knees.

“What and send you back to wreck another Porsche, ooh noo.” He waved his finger at you, giving a mock frown.

“You hardly respect your own ride.” You huffed, eyes flickered out of the window to his truck

“It's not the Porsche I'm worried about...” he gave you a small smirk as you folded your arms across your breasts. “Its the beautiful thing inside.” He winked

“You hardly seem the type to care about beautiful things.” You pointed out, your tone dripping sarcasm.

“Well I guess I can still surprise, huh doll?” He pushed you gently back to the cough, making you hiss as your body slumped into the uncomfortable old thing. “So you, and me,” he whistled, jabbing a thumb into his chest, “are gonna be roomies.”

“You're fucking kidding me?”

“Um, no.” He said plainly, walking over to an old fridge, retrieving two bottles of beer. “Here have a drink.” He shoved the cold glass into your bandaged hand, the touch of your warm fingers making the condensation on the bottle dribble to splash onto your black skirt.

“Trevor, I can't stay here, I have a life to sort out, staying here isn't doing that.” You said softly, fumbling with the bottle opener to crack open the beer, greedily taking gulps of the cold liquid.

He scoffed. “And driving into the middle of the desert to wreck your car is 'sorting your life out' how?”

You dragged a hand across your face. “It isn't, but I, I need to do something, get back, try and, try and get my job back maybe or, you know apply to other places.” You stammered through your ideas, you had no fucking clue about life, you'd been to college, become a journalist as you'd be encouraged to do, got yourself a boyfriend who was a fucking lawyer, and yet your life was shit. Here, in this shitty little trailer, with the company of a stranger, you'd realised that perhaps that's why you drove into the desert, to free yourself from the superficial, plastic existence that had been your artificially happy life for the past years, for your entire fucking existence, fake, fucking, fake, and you felt most whole leaving it, most broken, messy, damaged, but whole, the pain was waking you up, snapping you out of the high that society had forced into you, your system had cleared and you were beginning to feel real. Maybe, just maybe, staying here was a good idea.

Description
Chapter 1 – Breaking Down

The engine moaned low behind the mutter of the radio, something on the news about a robbery, two people were dead, that was all you caught. Tiny flecks of dust and grit bounced off the car, the tires kicking up dust as you drove, drove with no sense of direction, no destination, no care for where the next gas station was, no desire to know the way back as you took one turn after the next, it was over, life was left behind, your whole damn life working towards something and it was all over. The last two weeks had crumbled like wet paper in your hands, the inky words blotched out like your hopes and dreams, every perfect detail you had tried to bring into your life, weave into your being, was gone.

His face, his smile, the smell you were so familiar inhaling as his arms pulled you into his t shirt. How could he throw away the past four years of your life together, you slammed your fist against the wheel, watching the speed climb up as you pushed your foot to the floor, tiny beads of sweat gathered on your neck and between your breasts, the heat of the Senora desert sun was burning you through the windows, you could feel the heat in your cheeks as you cut through the dry, silent air. You felt tears streaming down, biting your lip to keep back any sobs, you had waisted enough tears, but that thought didn't stop them.

You blinked, trying to clear your blurry vision, looking down at your hands gripping the wheel, in the split second that you returned your eyes to the road, an animal ran across your path, a dog maybe, you didn't have time to think, swerving the car to the side, your tires caught a rocky bump and with the speed it was enough to send you into the air. It happened so fast you couldn't remember anything, just the lurching of your stomach, the way the seat belt grated across your skin, the sound of glass crushing, the way your body was knocked around, then the sharp pain when something hit the back of your head, a wave of sickness that rose into your gut, but the world had faded, your vision empty, just painful sensations and noise, so much noise, clattering metal grating the ground as the car rolled, you urged, but before long the world was silent, colourless, shapeless, sightless, nothing.

Everything was black, any noise was faint. You felt the pounding in your head, like your skull was going to crack open, you forced your eyes to blink, barely aware of the bloody taste in your mouth. You coughed, realising you were upside down. Freeing yourself of the seatbelt, you crawled through broken glass onto the hot desert sand, gripping a handful as you chocked a small cry. Your body shook, you couldn't place what had happened, your mind was racing as you reached for your phone – no signal. “Oh no no no, God no! This can't be happening.” You muttered, trembling as you looked back to the car. The once beautiful Porsche was on it's roof, buckled under it's own weight, the windows smashed out, looking like a shadow of it's former self. Everything really was gone now.

You stumbled to your feet, wincing as your knees moved, little fragments of broken glass in them, and your palms, streaks of blood tricking out of the small wounds. You let out a strangled cry. Looking around, nothing, absolutely nothing. You slumped next to the car, peeling your dark blazer away from you, tugging the black heels off of your feet, it was 1pm, the full heat of midday scolded you for being out, and you rested your head back against the hot metal of the car, and felt your eyelids fall shut, to blackness once again.

You were jerked awake when you felt hands gripping your face, it wasn't comforting, but a firm hold, your eyes snapped open to look into wide brown eye, staring at you. You let out a slight scream, trying to scrambled back, hitting your body hard against the car.

“You're not dead then.” His hand dropped your face, a small smile creeping onto his lips.

“Jesus, who are you?” The rasp in your voice reminding you of how dry your throat was.

“Names Trevor.” He said, shrugging off your fear as he rose back to his feet. Looking at your wrecked car with a whistle. “So where were you goin'?”

"Nowhere." You admitted through a small humourless laugh, winching at the ache in your ribs.

He slapped his knee and laughed. “Well congratu-fucking-lations, you made it, doll!"

Your brows pinched to a frown. "Excuse me."

"You made it nowhere already, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere."

"I really don't care much at this point."

"Jesus and I thought I was having a bad day...." He rubbed a hand over his rugged face. "Alllright then" he dragged on with some effort, walking away towards an old red truck that sat on the road. “You coming or not, dollface?” He called, turning to look over his shoulder.

“W...what?” You stuttered, struggling to your feet, wincing from the pain it caused.

“Jesus you're not very bright! You're out here, alone, looking half dead, I'm surprised the vultures hadn't already started on your sorry ass.” His voice was gruff, making you shiver even in the hot sun.

You stumbled towards his truck, not really thinking, your head was still throbbing and the simple effort from walking was making you feel sick. You stumbled, bracing yourself for the impact of the baked tarmac, but your wrist was gripped almost painfully by the stranger. “Easy there, sugar.” He steadied you, before opening the truck door.

You climbed in, slumping into the small amount of comfort offered by the seat. “Thank you.” You mumbled, your head lulling back, your eyes half lidded as you watched him examine your palms and knees, hissing as he looked at the cuts.

“You've really gotten yourself fucked up, eh?” He laughed, not that you could see anything funny about it, you were already starting to wonder at your senses for letting a strange, scruffy man pick you up in the middle of nowhere. But what choice was there at this point?

The engine spluttered into life, the truck lurching forward making your body jerk slightly against the seatbelt. You looked across at the man, for the first time noting his appearance, a dirty white t-shirt over a pair of old jeans, he was middle age, receding hairline and something unnerving about him. You were beginning to question how safe you were with this guy.

Wordlessly he shoved a bottle of water towards you. You hesitantly took it, struggling to undo the top with the pain in your hands. “Ah fuck, give it to me.” He snapped, snatching it and unscrewing the top with unnecessary force.

You gulped down the water, it was almost warm from being in his truck all day, but you didn't care, the moisture eased your raw throat so much that to you it tasted like the best thing you had ever drank. “Thanks.” You smiled slightly, looking to the man.

“Soo,” he started, looking from you to the road, “what's a high class thing like you doing so far from the financial district.”

Your laugh turned into a cough and you quickly sipped some more water. “Maybe I just like the views here.”

“Do you think I'm a fucking idiot? You're not here for fucking sight seeing,” his eyes were wide now, his grip on the wheel turning his knuckles white. “you think I don't know that!” He roared.

You felt your knees tremble, what was wrong with him. “No no I was joking.” You defended.

“Oh so you think I'm a fucking joke, huh princess.” He frowned, not looking at you.

“No, look I was fired from my job, it's kind of been a shit day.” You explained, resting your hand on his arm briefly. “I'm sorry, alright.”

Your touch seemed to calm him down, he nodded. “S...sorry.” He almost chocked, squinting his eyes as if trying to silence some inner struggle. “Sounds like it's pretty bad in your life then.” He muttered, turning the radio down a bit.

“Yeah well my boyfriend and I split, I can barely cover the rent, and now I've been fired, I'll lose the apartment I know that, I guess I thought if I just drove and drove...” you trailed off, fighting back tears. “I don't know what I thought...”

Silence followed for a minute or two, you felt his finger catch a tear on your cheek, felt his eyes watching you, swallowing back the thick lump in your throat you turned to face Trevor. He looked, different, like somebody who understood, understood losing everything, maybe you were imagining it, because in the second that followed his eyes were back on the road. “Don't cry. Crying,” he seemed to struggle to find his words, curling one hand into a tight ball in the air. “Crying gets you fucking nowhere,” he seemed angry, fighting the words he said, but it wasn't threatening this time, it was almost childish frustration, like a kid who couldn't remember how to spell a word. “Nobody listens when you cry, you gotta make a different noise, sugar.” His eyes fixed ahead, but not on the road, his sights were set on thoughts and memories you had no idea about.

You hesitated, only nodding for a second. “And what noise do you propose will help me?” You asked, crossing your arms doubtfully.

“The loud kind.” He grinned, looking across to you.

“What, how am I going to make a 'loud noise' and how the hell will that help?” You snapped, this guy really wasn't helping.

“I can see you're pretty new to this, this crisis of losing everything and turning that broken dream into success. That, is why you're fucking lucky to have met uncle T!” He declared, speeding the car up, and it jump forward making your already pounding head rattle.

You passed the rest of the journey in near silence, your aching body lulled into the occasional waves of sleep, feeling groggy from the heat beating down, and finding the low hum of the old classics on the radio like nostalgic lullabies of better days in better years, before your job and fake relationship took such priority.

“Wade, Wade stop touching her, damn it!” You woke up with a start to Trevor shouting, your eyes popping open to meet a wide blue-bloodshot set. You tried to lean away, finding your head pressed back against a musty couch. Before the blue eyed man was pulled to the floor by Trevor who tossed his boot ruthlessly into his stomach. “I said no touching!” He roared.

“S..sorry Trevor, I..I was just tryin'a.”

“I don't care, get out.” Trevor bit back, before turning to you with a slightly award smile. “Sorry, didn't mean to wake you,” he raised his hands in guilt, “but Wade is...is challenging sometimes.” He nodded to himself. “Anyway, since your awake, you'll notice your hands and knees are glass free.” He grinned, gesturing to you.

Blinking you realised they were, and neatly bandaged, how the hell didn't you wake up? “I slept through that?” You questioned.

“Well, yes, no, sort of, does it matter?” He handed you a bottle of water, more shoving it at you when you hesitated.

Your head felt fuzzy and only now were you beginning to realise the filthy state of the place you were in. “It matters.” You muttered, your brows pulling into a frown.

“I gave you a little prick with a needle while you were sleeping, so like sleeping beauty you'd stay sleeping, while I had my guy Ron rip glass outta you, what would you have rather been awake?” He gave you a look

You practically choked on your drink. “You what?” You practically demanded.

He laughed, tossing his head back as he looked at you. “Jesus sweetcheeks, it was nothing bad, just a little something to make things easier.”

You didn't answer, just stared ahead at the disgusting state of a...kitchen? Dirty dishes piled high in the sink, the only signs of food were cereal boxes and leftover take-out sitting on the surfaces, beer and cola cans were scattered amidst the chaotic view. You felt disgusted, disgusted but something else, something you should have perhaps not felt, sympathy, what had lead him to living like this? “Well,” you said finally, “thank you, for helping me so much.” You looked back to him, offering a genuine smile that he seemed unsure of how to react to.

“No problem,” he nodded, “one way to spend Friday afternoon.” He chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You still haven't told me your name.”

“(y/n).”

“(y/n), beautiful,” he said slowly, as if tasting your name like the first bite of ice cream melting over his tongue on a hot summers day. “Oh I like it!”

“Well, I ah should get a taxi or something.” You said, rising from the couch trying to ignore the sharp stinging in your knees.

“What and send you back to wreck another Porsche, ooh noo.” He waved his finger at you, giving a mock frown.

“You hardly respect your own ride.” You huffed, eyes flickered out of the window to his truck

“It's not the Porsche I'm worried about...” he gave you a small smirk as you folded your arms across your breasts. “Its the beautiful thing inside.” He winked

“You hardly seem the type to care about beautiful things.” You pointed out, your tone dripping sarcasm.

“Well I guess I can still surprise, huh doll?” He pushed you gently back to the cough, making you hiss as your body slumped into the uncomfortable old thing. “So you, and me,” he whistled, jabbing a thumb into his chest, “are gonna be roomies.”

“You're fucking kidding me?”

“Um, no.” He said plainly, walking over to an old fridge, retrieving two bottles of beer. “Here have a drink.” He shoved the cold glass into your bandaged hand, the touch of your warm fingers making the condensation on the bottle dribble to splash onto your black skirt.

“Trevor, I can't stay here, I have a life to sort out, staying here isn't doing that.” You said softly, fumbling with the bottle opener to crack open the beer, greedily taking gulps of the cold liquid.

He scoffed. “And driving into the middle of the desert to wreck your car is 'sorting your life out' how?”

You dragged a hand across your face. “It isn't, but I, I need to do something, get back, try and, try and get my job back maybe or, you know apply to other places.” You stammered through your ideas, you had no fucking clue about life, you'd been to college, become a journalist as you'd be encouraged to do, got yourself a boyfriend who was a fucking lawyer, and yet your life was shit. Here, in this shitty little trailer, with the company of a stranger, you'd realised that perhaps that's why you drove into the desert, to free yourself from the superficial, plastic existence that had been your artificially happy life for the past years, for your entire fucking existence, fake, fucking, fake, and you felt most whole leaving it, most broken, messy, damaged, but whole, the pain was waking you up, snapping you out of the high that society had forced into you, your system had cleared and you were beginning to feel real. Maybe, just maybe, staying here was a good idea.