Deleted Scenes #2

Choice Picked: Ditch him.

The innate disregard for your personal space sets off a number of alarm bells in your head.

Your eyes flicker up to the hitchhiker's face, then back to his hand where his fingers wrap around the arch of your wrist, digging half moons into your skin like you’re a piece of parchment paper he wants to rip apart.

Refusing to back down, you match his withering gaze with your own and remove each finger from your skin with extreme deliberacy.  

There’s no way he can mistake the hint.

You’ve made a clear line in the sand that says “no touchie.”

But he ignores it and reaches for you again. This time you bolt to your feet in order to dodge mister grabby hands.

Nope. Fuck this shit. You’re out.

Sure he’s injured and you’re out in the middle of nowhere, but self preservation is screaming her little lungs out again and you kind of feel like listening this time. There’s something off about this man.

From the implied threats to the repeated invasion of your personal space.

This guy spells bad news.

Time for you to go.

Hitchhiker: ”What are you doing?”

You don’t answer as you dust yourself off while the hitchhiker watches you with narrowed eyes. Almost accusatory like you’ve done something wrong.

And maybe what you’re about to do is cruel, but you can’t shake off the feeling that if you stay any longer you’ll end up regretting your decision.

Not to mention the way he stares at you.

Like he’s a jungle cat peeking through a copse of trees waiting to dive out from the leafy palms and devour you whole.

It’s unsettling and creepy.

YOU: “I’m going home. What does it look like I’m doing?”

You  head towards your car and start patting down your pockets in search of your car keys. You didn’t leave them in the car did you? Maybe the ignition switch? Oh wait, no, there they are-

Hitchhiker: ”You’re just going to leave me here?”

Did…his voice just crack at the end?

Like you’ve genuinely hurt his feelings.

Choices:

Ignore him

Turn to face him

Choice picked: Ignore Him

He’s faking it.

You choose to ignore him.

“HIM”

Adam studies the shape of your body, your silhouette cast like an inkblot underneath the rays of the late afternoon sun. He can almost see the weight of your sins scribbled along the distinct curve of your back.

The lettering contrasts your skin in bold sweeping letters. You can’t see them yourself, and neither can he really, but he knows they’re there and that they exist.

He focuses on them and the cold press of the blades hilt as it somehow finds itself into the palm of his hand. A reassuring weight in the pressure of the moment.

He’ll carve those letters out.

One

By

One.

It's pivotal that he does.