My Brother's Ghost

Standing beside Scott's Camaro with the door propped wide open, I'm utterly flabbergasted as my jaw drops. In my hand is the pair of red satin panties stolen from my hotel room last night, covered in cum stains. I want to vomit at the very sight of them, let alone think about Scott masturbating on my panties. The longer I look at them the madder I fucking get.

"How could Scott do such a vile, disgusting act like this? Better yet, when did he steal them from my hotel room - that's the real question? My hotel door was locked before I went into the bathroom to take a bath. Unless - unless Scott came into my hotel room when I passed out on the bed for a couple of hours?" I contemplate, leaping to all kinds of twisted assumptions.

I'm not even thinking about my missing brother. I want to turn around and go slap the shit out of Scott's ass right now. But, if I do that I'm probably gonna end up walking out of the mountains on foot - bad idea. To add insult to injury, I kinda need Scott's help finding my brother since the police don't seem to be willing to do anything.

A strong wind swirls around me, freezing me to the bone, and whips my hair in the gusty breeze. It's colder now than ever before and snowing again. The howling wind seems to echo a distant, haunting, inaudible voice as if it were beaconing me to continue on. My long, flowing, red hair is saturated with snowflakes by the time I can pull my wool hoodie over my head to keep warm.

When the wind dies down, the snowfall seems to pick up. I can hear Scott making a racket, bumping around in the trunk; struggling to remove the spare tire. I assume Scott is racing against the bad weather conditions that are getting worse by the minute.

"Can you give me a hand lifting the spare tire out of the trunk, Amanda?" Scott hollers, unaware I'm holding my stolen panties. "If we don't beat the weather, we'll be stranded at the mountain lodge."

"Sure, Scott. Give me a second." I reply, stuffing my cum soiled, satin panties into my jacket pocket, and walking to the back of the car where he's struggling with the spare tire.

"It's wedged in pretty tight." Scott utters, bending over into the trunk; grabbing one side of the tire.

Lending Scott a hand lifting the tire out of the trunk, I notice all kinds of cardboard boxes crammed and stuffed into the trunk. Either Scott is a fucking pack rat, or he's homeless, living out of his car. Really, that's none of my business, but it's hard not to notice the clutter in the trunk.

"If you put the boxes in the backseat, I'll change the tire, and we'll be back on the road looking for your brother in no time." Scott promises, rolling the tire around the car with the car jack under his arm.

I'm reluctant as Hell to do anything to help Scott's fucking ass. While Scott works on changing the flat tire, I start putting the boxes in the backseat of his Camaro. I could've been nosy and pilfered through the boxes a little, but he's keeping a close eye on me for some strange reason. I'm guessing he's paranoid I might steal something from him.

I finish moving the boxes long before Scott changes the tire. Waiting in the car, I mull over how to approach Scott about my stolen panties - how they got under his car seat. To pass the lingering time, I sift through old text messages from my brother until I find a text containing my brother's address. I find it about the time Scott slams the trunk shut and opens the driver door to have a seat behind the wheel.

"That didn't take too long." I utter, burying my head in my iPhone and studying my brother's address; hiding my anger.

"No, it didn't." Scott replies, cranking the car and turning the heat on. "But, the snow is coming down pretty hard now." Scott adds, putting the car in drive; taking us out of the tourist parking area and back onto Skyline Drive.

The sun is getting lower in the sky and the clouds are getting thicker. It won't be long before it starts getting dark. Pulling away from Dark Hollow Falls, I'm so mad at Scott I don't notice he left the flat tire on the ground in the tourist parking lot, or even the fact we aren't headed back to Front Royal.

Sitting back in the car seat, I lean my head on the cold, glass window staring out into the snow covered landscape. It's rather peaceful watching the snow fall in the mountains; the silence in the car is almost deafening. I'm assuming Scott is in deep thought about something just like I am.

"Have you ever seen a woman masturbate, Scott?" I mutter, breaking the silence. "You know, playing with her pussy." I say casually, if that's even possible; catching Scott off guard completely.

"Sure, several times. Why do you ask?" Scott replies, cutting his eyes at me and giving me an unsettling, puzzled look; anticipating where the conversation is going.

"Oh, just asking. It's something to talk about and pass the time, you know, breakup the boredom of a long car ride." I mutter, disguising my intentions the best I can.

"That's one Hell of a way to break up the boredom." Scott chuckles, silently daydreaming - probably thinking about sex with me like any typical man would.

"So, are you moving or did your girlfriend kick you out?" I inquire, pulling my hoodie off my head and raking the hair away from my eyes - being a little more subtle in my approach until I figure out what's on Scott's mind.

"I had a disagreement with a man and a woman I was renting a room from back in Front Royal. They were cramping my style, making me feel uncomfortable. When things got too weird for me, I had to leave. Since I had no place to go, I ended up living out of my car." Scott elaborates, sneaking a quick glance at me while holding his hand over a vent to warm it up.

"How long have you been living out of your car like this?" I ask, making conversation, trying to suppress my festering anger.

"Not long, probably ten days or so." Scott replies bluntly, keeping the details as short as possible. "I'm probably going to move back to Roanoke."

Abandoning the conversation momentarily, I go back to staring out the window, thinking about my panties being stolen from my hotel room. I am still mad as fuck and want to explode. Deciding to smoke, I crack the car window, waiting for a more opportune time to approach Scott about my panties.

"What is your opinion of my brother Kevin?" I ask, digging my cigarettes from my purse and lighting one; unable to look at Scott.

"Your brother? Oh, I couldn't be around someone like your brother. It would make me uncomfortable. No offense, but I'd be scared your brother would make a pass at me or be flirting with me all the time." Scott replies nervously, cutting his eyes at me; hoping I'd change the subject.

"I see, that's understandable. My brother loved life and loved everyone equally. But, I'm sure he would never make a pass at anyone unless they showed a sexual interest in him first." I explain, standing up in defense of my brother; puffing on my cigarette.

"I'm just being honest, Amanda." Scott adds, taking his eyes off me.

"It's okay, Scott. I understand what you're trying to say." I reply, staring out the car window for a familiar landmark to help gauge our trip back to Front Royal.

Everything looks so unfamiliar, yet, all the same to me. We should've at least passed the mountain lodge by now, but I haven't even seen a sign for it. Taking a deep breath, I exhale; unable to find a suitable way to approach Scott about my stolen panties - now doesn't seem to be the right time. It will probably be best to wait until we get back to Front Royal to confront him about them.

Stuffing my iPhone in my jacket pocket, I decide to put my cigarettes in the visor for safe keeping instead of back in my purse. When I lower the sun visor, an avalanche of mail rains into my lap and slides into the floorboard of the car. The commotion quickly draws Scott's attention.

"You can put all that stuff in the dash if you want." Scott says nervously, barely taking his eyes off the road.

"When we get back to Front Royal, would you mind dropping me off at the police station? I wanna see if the detective working my brother's missing persons case will give me the name of my brother's roommate." I ask, flicking my cigarette butt out the window before unbuckling my seatbelt.

"Are you sure that is the best approach to finding your brother?" Scott asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel; seemingly disappointed with my idea.

"I'm sure, Scott. Then, if you don't mind, I'll give you some gas money to drive me to my brother's residence." I mutter, hunching over to collect the loose papers and mail from the floor the best I can.

Scott doesn't reply to anything I am saying; he's quiet as a church mouse. Glancing at the address on some of Scott's mail, I suddenly realize why Scott is so quiet. The address on Scott's mail is the same as my brother's address. I want to gasp, I want to scream, I want to do a lot of things.

Putting the pieces of the puzzle together, I suddenly realize Scott's story about having a disagreement with a man and a woman isn't exactly true. The disagreement was with my brother, who happens to be a transvestite. Even Scott's opinions of my brother and about him being uncomfortable suddenly make sense.

Slowly sitting up straight in my car seat, I reach for the dash to open it, pretending I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. I'm abruptly greeted with the back of Scott's right hand, slapping me back into my seat. The slap is hard enough to draw a trickle of blood from the impact.

"You were bound to find out I'm your brother's roommate sooner or later." Scott utters, glaring at me with a sinister, hollow gaze. "It's only a matter of time before you figure out I killed your brother." Scott confesses, assuming I know more details than I actually do up until this point.

I'm utterly in shock. My face is on fire, stinging from being slapped right across my mouth by the back of Scott's hand. My heart is beating erratically in my chest. Fear swells in my eyes swirling with the pain. A small stream of blood trickles down the side of my mouth to my chin across my lower lip.

"Your brother was a threat to my sexuality being a transvestite. It's not my fault; it's all Kevin's fault. I couldn't be around him without getting sexually aroused. I killed him to get rid of the unnatural sexual urges." Scott confesses, attempting to justify his actions to me.

"You killed my brother!" I scream, lashing out hysterically from listening to the bullshit and lies spewing from Scott's mouth.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up, and listen to me for a second." Scott demands, slapping me across the mouth with the back of his hand again. "You have to understand it wasn't my fault; it was all Kevin's fault." Scott insists, trying to convince me with his morbidly twisted, rational way of thinking.

"I don't fucking believe you!" I shout, impulsively reaching for the door to open it.

Adrenaline courses through my veins; the fight or flight mechanism kicks in. I'm not thinking rationally about my actions, or the consequences of jumping from a moving car. Before Scott can grab a hold to me, I make a desperate leap from the Camaro; hitting the pavement hard.

Disoriented, I roll countless times across the icy pavement before coming to a complete stop, dizzy and without a sense of direction. I shrug it off the best I can. I can hear Scott slam on the breaks, skidding his Camaro to a complete stop. He's coming back for me, and I'm sure his intentions aren't going to be pleasant.

Regaining my sense of direction, I see Scott attempting to back the Camaro up and possibly run me over. This isn't the time to be freaking out as my survival instincts kick in. I can either stay here in the middle of the road and get run over, or I can take my chances getting off the road.

In my haste I make a fatal mistake electing not to go down the snow covered mountain slopes. Staggering to my feet, I frantically claw my way up the slippery mountain side, struggling to gain traction in the wet snow. I'm hoping Scott will be unwilling to give chase. Digging my fingers deep into the cold, muddy ground, I make a desperate attempt to escape.

Covered in mud and soaking wet, I slip and lose traction in the slush. Glancing down the mountain slope, I see the shiny, reflective surface of a knife in Scott's hand. Fear engulfs me and I panic, my heart is beating erratically. I'm dazed; hurt, too. Scott knows it, he can sense it like an apex predator. That's why he isn't giving chase. All he has to do is wait patiently for me to give up on my futile escape attempt, and slide down the mountain slope - right into his clutches.