The first impression that she had upon waking was of the bright morning light striking her face and the realization that it had light out for some time since her right cheek was warm from the sun's caress. Having sat in dreamy contemplation for a moment, her eyes fluttered open when she was shaken lightly. The experience of waking somewhere unfamiliar was disorienting initially but after rubbing her eyes with balled hands, she recalled where she was exactly.
Sitting up straight in the seat of the car allowed her to see out the windows as well as offering a glimpse of the driver of the car, who glanced at her and offered a smile. She was happy to have him there, his gregarious nature lent itself to a certain charm and put her at ease, despite her nervousness. Her brother was an asset and a complement to her own personality in that he was so different from her. Where she was quiet and calculating, he was voluble and charming. He was the charmer of people while she worked with numbers and realities and it suited them both fine that way.
"We're going to stop at the next gas station" he informed her, gesturing to a sign at the side of the road that was ticking off the miles until the next exit. She nodded silently, pulling the sleeves of her shirt over her arms with two fluid swipes to cover indelible scars that ran more than skin deep. If her brother noticed, he didn't comment on it and instead returned his focus to the road ahead of him, though he was obviously weary from the driving. At the gas station, she would likely take her turn in driving the car. They had no real destination, only a plan to settle wherever they felt most comfortable but far from home and somewhere small, quiet. They'd left in the dead of night, silent as thieves, and had been driving ever since. They had covered surprisingly little ground for how long they had been driving and a glance at the map told her that they needed to go further away. They were still too close to where they'd come from for them to stop now.
Their peculiar calm unnerved her a little, though she was numbly happy and didn't know how else she expected to feel. They were fleeing, yes, from their meticulous crime but it was not a crime of wantonness or passion but a carefully planned and orchestrated murder. These thoughts made her glance around nervously as though expecting someone to accuse her of her crime on the spot or to grow suspicious of her thoughts but there weren't even any other cars on the road with them. Rolling hillsides occasionally dotted with the odd horse or cow were the only sources of company besides her brother, who seemed to be driving half-asleep as this point. Placing her hand against the window, she wondered what was going on now back at her house.
Perhaps someone had found the body, reeking of alcohol and passed out in a pool of his own vomit. If all went according to plan, the death would be labeled accidental, checked off as another alcoholic to die a pathetic death. It would not surprise anyone, the irascible man's fits were not his solitary character flaw after all. Simply one of many faults that had alienated his children from him. Even if someone did suspect his son of killing him, would they say anything? Would it be too much to jump to images of the boy walking into the room to find the alcoholic taking his anger at the world out on the daughter? Would it be just to punish the son for killing the father who could not be tasked with nurturing his own progeny, after all? Likely, all would stay silent and the siblings would slip away to never be heard from again.
