@casqet
This was the last fight. When the bowl that Tyler had thrown just barely missed his head, he had grabbed his keys and left, pulling out of the driveway, thankful when he realized his phone and wallet were in his pocket. However, his charger was nowhere to be found and Ezra’s phone died about an hour into his drive after Tyler kept calling over and over.
The rain starts to pour down as Ezra makes his way into a rural area, trees get closer and closer while buildings become fewer and farther between. Daylight is fading.
“Fuck...” he thinks as the truck breaks down. He looks around and sees a mailbox at the end of a long dirt road. “Fuck fuck fuck...” He thinks, turning off the truck. Maybe there’s somebody at the end of the dirt road who can at least call a tow truck for him. He goes into his glove box and pulls out the gun that he keeps there. He doesn’t know if there are coyotes or bears around, or if whoever’s at the end of the road is some kind of serial killer.
His shoes get muddy and squish with each step he takes along the dirt road, his flashlight lighting the way, but just barely. He walks and walks, the rain soaking him through, but in the back of his mind, he still thinks it’s better than being at home with Tyler.
The crumbling house looks abandoned, but regardless, he knocks. If it is abandoned, he can at least take shelter here for the night and walk until he can find a gas station tomorrow morning.
