I supressed a scream. He just sat there watching as I writhed, so I stopped and just breathed instead. Beads of sweat appeared on my forehead and I could feel them sliding down my probably oily face. You know how oily your face is as a teen? Like I could make bottles and sell this stuff. I relaxed, and thought of things with humor, it always took my mind off things. I listened to the going ons outside while he worked at it, wrapping the pants around my waist. When he was done, he grabbed my shoulders and propped me up in the seat, then he got out, closed the door and the backseat door then came around to the driver’s seat and sat down.

“So, who’s pants are these?” I asked, just lolling my head, around, playing with the binds around my wrist, trying to make casual conversation.

“They’re mine.” He responded.

“How selfless of you, sacrificing your own pants just to save my life.” I said back, exaggerating everything, milking it.

“With the money I receive from you? I could buy another pair and more.” He said simply. I shrugged, it was true, that is, if he were able to get me anywhere. I don’t know if he had forgotten or anything but we were currently out whoop whoop, if he knew what that meant.

“Do you know what ‘whoop whoop’ means?” I asked, looking up at him, he appeared to be American by his accent. He shook his head. “It means ‘the middle of nowhere’, that’s where we are you know, and we are going to be here for a while. I don’t know if you know much about Australia but people die out in places like these due to the lack of civilisation, and eventually people run out of food and water too. Some people think that it would be a good idea to walk the rest of the way to civilisation, but that’s got to be many kilometres away, you know.” I said, matter of factly. Don’t worry, I hate myself too, always talking.

“Shut up, unless I ask you a question” He said firmly, I nodded. He seemed serious.

Leaning back in his chair, he looked up to the crooked roof.

“Where’s your family, what were they like?” He questioned. I looked at him closely. Maybe he was wondering how a 17-year-old would be allowed out without question, wondering why no one would come looking for me. Probably wondering if anyone would eventually come looking for me. I shook my head and spoke quietly.

“So, I had seven siblings, five boys and two girls. One mum and one dad. We were tight; I guess you had to be in a small house. They were the usual, occasionally there would be fights, occasionally you’d show some love, you know.” I shrugged at it all.

“What do you mean ‘had’.” He went on. I looked at him, suddenly my mood had changed from humour to whatever it looks like when you get the wind knocked out of you, or when you’re homesick, when you’re lost. I looked away and out the window to my left.

“What usually happens to the good things?” I asked him. I looked back at him, his face was set in a frown, and then he became preoccupied with looking around the car, and then at Quinn. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. Sleep also tended to help with stress and leaving problems for later.

After a while of swimming in my own sweat and moving about in discomfort, I caved in to the fact that I couldn’t sleep. I looked over at Harley, then he looked at me and we just looked. I noticed all the blood that covered his face, he should probably treat it, I wanted to say it but instead I just frowned.

“What now?” He asked. Good, he understood.

“Your head needs fixing.” I replied then turned to look out the broken windscreen. The mirrors were smashed so all he could do was get out and go in search of the pieces of mirror. Quinn grunted, I turned around and saw her eyes open, then they closed again and she fell out of consciousness, once again. I just turned back around and waited.