I leaned back in my car seat, close my eyes and taking my hands off the steering wheel. The pain in my arms laced through me, a subtle reminder of why I had taken this trip. Years of self-mutilation causing many lost friendships, loves, chances, hopes, dreams… I realized it was time for change. If this little vacation from life didn’t help me, then I would seek professional help. For so long I had been reliant on the knife, it was my solace, and I was getting rather sick of it. I hadn’t realized I was lost so deeply in thought until the car behind me began laying on the horn.

My eyes snapped open and I realized the car had moved two spaces ahead. I flipped the driver behind me the middle finger and moved up. The sound of horns honking in the distance reminded me to turn on my iPod. Blissful music floated into my ears and into my mind, blocking out all depressing thoughts that would eventually drive me back to the knife. The beat quickened and I tapped my hands on the steering wheel to the beat. The lyrics began to run, and I lost myself in the music, and for a few moments, I felt blissfully free. But like all good things, it ended, lapsing into another song.

Boredom began to seep in. I had been sitting in this traffic close to forty-five minutes, and had been crawling at a snail’s pace. I turned the music on louder, drowning out all other noises but the song playing from my head phones. I turned my head to the right, looking out the window, staring at the cars that sluggishly passed by me. Staring at blank faces, wondering what their life’s story was.

Close to two hours had passed, and I had barely gone three miles. My turn-off was coming up, so I attempted to remain optimistic. Even with the music, and the cars… the darkness that lived in my mind slowly began taking over. Bringing with it, all the memories, all the failed expectations, and broken dreams and hopes, every cut and attempted suicide, every high, every broken heart. I could feel hot tears burning at my eyes but I steadfastly refused to let myself cry. I was going to beat this on my own terms.

Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I looked back out the window. An old red Chevelle crawled by next to me. In the front passenger seat, a man stared at me. Boredom seemed to pore from his entire being. I looked him over, he didn’t seem much older than me, but black hair hid his eyes, so I was unable to tell fully. He flipped his head, and the straight locks flew back, revealing to me his eyes. His left eye was a startling vivid green, a shade that seemed to glow in the light. His right was a black color, darker than any night I had ever seen.

I was almost in shock seeing such a contrast. Two-colored eyes where rare yes, but I had never seen them in like… that. Our eyes locked, and I saw the same sadness in them that I saw in mine. His lips parted in a vague O shape, and I realized how amazingly stunning he was. His flesh was flawless, his face almost angelic, yet sadness darkened his beautiful features.

He turned to the front, and I was almost saddened at the loss of such beauty. Impulsively, I reached for the window, my finger pads brushing the cold glass, as if I could draw him back to me. Again, the mystery man turned to me, and I saw his eyes graze my arms, taking in the years of mutilation. His brows knit together in a tight V and I realized my error. Had I offended such beauty with my acts of desperation?

As if to answer my own question, the man turned to the driver and said something. I strained to see the driver, but the angle of the cars hid the person from my view. The man grabbed something from him, and then looked down. I frowned, my heart pounding in my chest for no reason. My iPod turned on a frenzied ensemble, the music fast and loud, crashing into my head.

He held up a paper to the window. I squinted to read the messy text. ‘What is your number?’

My heart stammered, before slamming back into my rib cage painfully. What was going on? Fear laced through me as I mouthed “Why?” to the man.

He clearly saw the confusion on my face. Taking the paper down from the window, he began writing again. In just a few seconds, he was done, holding it back up. I squinted again, reading it. “You need a friend.”

And then I felt the flood of tears running down my face. This mystery man had hit the nail on the head. I had needed a friend for years, and some stranger had just figured that out. My best friends had never once been able to tell. Yet some random man could. Throwing all caution to the wind, I found a scrap piece of paper and scribble my number onto it, and held it to the window.

The man nodded, pulling out his cell phone and entered the number. Again, he flashed the paper up to the window and it read, “I will call you later.”

And then I was forced to make my turn, my mind racked with confusion and my heart filled with terror. Had I just given a stalker everything he needed, had I just signed my death warrant? Cursing my stupidity, I drove fast.

---

By the time I hit the lodge that night, I was tired. I had gotten no call from the angelic man I had seen in the car. I threw my bags onto the floor and flopped onto the bed. The sheets smelled like cheap fabric cleaner, but it was nice. My cell phone still lay clutched in my hand as I had mulled over the day’s happening.

I hadn’t realized I had drifted off to sleep until the jingle from my phone woke me up with a start. I brought the phone close to my face and tried to blink away the grogginess. The number was one I didn’t know. Could it be the man?

I brought the phone to my ear, “Hello?”

“Erm… hi.” The voice held a faint accent, from where, I did not know, “This is the man from the high way.”

I was silent for a long moment, unsure of what to say to this, “Oh… yes.”

There was silence on his end.

“So… what can I call you?” I asked, trying to break the increasingly awkward silence.

“You can call me Hope.”

I felt the burn of tears trickle down my face....