Afire: Entire Blinded Series by Sarah Masters

to eleven."
    I won't make it to town in time if I walk. “Do you mind? I've...my jeans are wet."
    She looks down at my legs, and a fleeting expression of sympathy skips over her face. “No, it's fine. Come on."
    I pick up my bag, cross the road, and hesitate at the passenger door. Should I get in? Involve this woman in my shit? I have no choice really. Still shaking, I open the door and put my bag in the footwell then get in, feet resting either side, conscious of my wet jeans on her leather seat. I close the door and slip my seatbelt on; she drives, eyes focused ahead.
    "He's a bastard.” Her jaw muscles twitch.
    "Who, him back there?"
    "Yeah, him. Trevor."
    "You know him, then?"
    "Doesn't everyone?"
    "Yeah, I s'pose."
    "You piss him off?"
    "Yeah."
    "What did you do?"
    I'm going to tell the truth. Fuck it. For the first time, I'm going to admit it out loud to a stranger. “Nothing. He doesn't like me...doesn't like me being gay.” A sense of freedom slices through me, and it feels so good to come clean, to get it out there. To let the words roll off my tongue. It's like a huge weight has been lifted.
    "Is that right?” She glances my way then back at the road. “Fuck me! He's got some serious problems if that's all it was."
    "Yeah.” I smile, want to laugh, really laugh. She's just accepted it like I said nothing more than an inane comment, yet Trevor, Mum...Christ, why are some people so against it? What's it got to do with them anyway?
    "You moving away?” She nods at my bag.
    "Yeah. Need to...need to—"
    "Don't blame you. This place is a shithole."
    We've reached town, and she swerves the car into the parking bay beside the bus station.
    "I take it this is where you wanted to go?” She holds the steering wheel at ten and two, turning to look at me.
    "Yeah. And thanks. For—"
    "No problem. Look, you take care of yourself, all right?"
    Her kindness almost breaks me, and I mumble my thanks again and get out of the car, pulling the bag free. I shut the door and watch her drive away, her hand lifting in a wave. Swallowing a ball of emotion, I run over to the nearby cashpoint and withdraw a hundred quid, then make my way to the large bus timetable mounted on a closed cafeteria wall.
    The only bus leaving tonight is heading north, going through Biddingford, an ideal, out-of-the-way place that'll suit me just fine. We passed it once years ago on our way to Hayling Island and the holiday camp there. Dad had mentioned how sleepy and quiet it seemed, but Mum had said it was too sleepy for her. No way would she manage living in a place like that. The memory cements my destination, and I turn in a circle, looking at the stars, wondering what my future holds. It's got to be better than my past, albeit without Ryan in it for a while.
    The low grumble of a coach approaching yanks me out of my reverie, and I walk to the bus stop, the only person wanting out of this place tonight. The coach pulls to a stop with squeaking brakes and the hiss of the door sliding open, and I grip the handrail, one foot on the bottom step.
    "You leaving dead on eleven?” I ask the driver.
    He stares down at me from his elevated perch, grey bushy eyebrows above dark brown eyes, his pasty, lined face lit up by the interior light above his head. “Yep. Why?"
    "Have I got time to nip to the loo and change my jeans? Spilled Coke down them."
    He glances at my legs and nods. “Yep. Go on then. But be quick about it."
    I sort myself out and return to the coach, climb aboard, pay my fair, and take a seat at the back. I reckon I've got a good three hours before we get to Biddingford. No other passenger occupies the bus, so I stretch out on the back seat, my head propped up on my bag. The coach eases out of the station, and I stare through the window, watching the familiar buildings pass by, a bittersweet feeling floating through me. Good to be going, but still a little sad. All that's left here for me is Ryan, and I reckon he'll wait for me. That thought