The scorched gravel scraped her bony elbows as she dragged herself across the rugged desert floor. Beads of sweat blurred her already distorted vision. The earth’s fever formed lines of cloudiness.
The engine of the classic Mach One revved. “Woo, hoo! Look at her crawl.” Bubba Taylor and Scotty Fierce were drunker than cooter brown. They sped off, burned rubber in the middle Route 50 and headed back to taunt the girl from trailer six. She’d lived only yards away from them for years.
“Awwh Darla, get in the car. It’s a misunderstanding,” Scotty climbed through the window, sat on the seal, crossed his arms on the roof and laid his head down – only for a split second before the hot metal grabbed ahold of him. “Look what you did,” he swung around, his bare feet hit the concrete, his belt swung from his unbuttoned jeans, shirtless, he hopped towards her.
“Darla,” he sang.
Breathless, the half-naked young woman struggled to move before she felt his foot on her back. “Come on!” he inhaled deeply to produce a wad of phlegm, combining it with the blood and other bodily fluids that tangled her stringy brown hair.
“Leave her!” Bubba yelled. “They’ll find her when them boys from the Sheriff’s department start community service in the morning.”
Bubba cranked the radio, hitting the steering wheel to the beat of Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Scotty placed his other foot on Darla’s back. He jumped up and down, moaning loudly until her body completely collapsed.
“Garbage,” he placed his big toe in the corner of her eye-socket, digging his nail around until blood oozed.
The sun began to set, coyotes howled in agreement with the approaching night.
“You’ll make a fine meal,” he laughed.
Leesa Writes 
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