Silas’ hands shook, his heart beat increased, and he began to rock. He couldn’t think, as the fear of going to jail, being under the influence of a dangerous sleazy pair like Bart and Zola, and having no way out took over his body. He put his quivering fingers on the Cutlass’ tire, tried to stand but lost his balance and fell to the ground, his damaged face scratched up more by gravel. Olive’s voice ricocheted off him.
“Silas, not now, for chrissakes!”
He closed his eyes, trying to use the darkness to snap out of the attack.
“Si, honey, listen to me. We have to stay strong. I can get us out of this. Okay? Come one, stand up and get over this.”
Olive rolled him over and straddled his waist. She pulled her t-shirt off and smiled at him in just her bra.
“They won’t give us a hard time if they think…
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