“I can fix this. I can fix this” he repeated to himself in a mantra-like chant, “This has happened before, you just need to do what you did then”. He took his hands away from his face before heading to the back of my car and clearing some things from the trunk.
“That should be enough room. Yeah, that should be plenty” He sighed to himself, his anxiety slowly dwindling away. He reached into my trunk and pulled out the old sleeping bag he never removed from when he went camping with his friends. He unfurled it and rolled it out onto the desolate road, the cold asphalt and mild breeze nipping at his knuckles. The soft velvety sounds of it unraveling were quickly cut out by the a harsh dragging sound before the body was slithered into the sleeping bag.
With a heave, he lifted the body into his trunk, a small trickle of blood leaking down onto his hands. He quickly adjusted the body, so it was angled downwards. He didn’t want blood in his trunk now did he?
With a sigh, he opened the driver side door and closed it with a calm clunk. He sat there for a moment, letting what just happened sink in before taking his keys and turning the car over. The engine restarted with a soft hum before he pulled out from where he was parked. All was well and the cool air with the windows rolled down helped him focus on other things rather than the bloodied corpse in his backseat.
That all changed when he saw flashing lights appear in his rearview mirror. Looking down, he saw he was going 15 above the speed limit. Panic started arising in his chest again, his eyes glossing over as he pulled over to the side of the road. He turned on the hazards when he noticed the blood on his knuckles again. It seemed… more prominent than it did before. He tried to keep his breathing level as the officer approached him.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” He asked nonchalantly, before looking fully at the man in the car. His eyes trailed from his face down to his hands, planted firmly at 10 and 2, bloody knuckles shining crimson.
“No officer I am not sure why” the man responded, barely keeping his voice from quavering.
The officer looked at him before answering nonchalantly paired with a slight chuckle, “You were going a bit fast for around here. Slow it down a bit yeah? You also might want to get something for those hands. Wouldn’t want the wrong person knowing what you’re doing”. He ended the point with a wink before handing me a business card.
As he walked away, I looked behind me to see my trunk popped open. I must’ve opened it by accident. I saw the officer in the mirror, smiling friendlily before entering his car and pulling away. That was how I met Matt.