my second arrest

The plan had been simple-pick up, shoot up, disappear-but simplicity rarely survived the snarl of junkie desperation.

He drove fast, grinning at his own smug commentary, a streak of cheap cologne and greasy bravado. I'd learned to play along, laughing at his jokes, but when he leaned across the center console and pressed his hand too low, I flinched. He caught it, like a dog scenting fear.

"You a tease?" he sneered, voice cracking. When I didn't answer, he slapped me hard enough to shift the air in the car. "Bitch."

I swallowed the hot pulse of anger, tasting blood where my teeth bit my cheek. Fine, I thought. Play the part. Survive. I cooed something pathetic and docile, enough to make him believe l'd changed my mind.

When I convinced him to stop for condoms, I slid into the driver's seat the second he stepped into the fluorescent glow of the convenience store.

The car ran out of gas a few miles into Costa Mesa, an unfamiliar sprawl of streets and alien neon. I'd traded one cage for anoth…