A Scenic View

Who: Olivia
When: Late night
Where: Trowbridge Park

"Are you kidding me?" Olivia asked, turning away from the window of the beat up Chevy to glare at the driver. They had stopped in the middle of nowhere, at least to Olivia, with nothing but residential houses lining the street. The young man who Olivia had aptly named Hoodlum #4 merely shrugged, leaning against the other window, his baseball cap tilted to the side as he smirked.

"Got places to go, sugar. This is as far as I take you."

Olivia released a sound of disgust and wrenched the door open. "No one says sugar anymore, asshole." She slammed the door shut, clutching her bag and jacket against her chest as the Chevy took off, tires squealing along the pavement. She would have picked up a rock and thrown it at the ugly car had she not had her hands full. Instead she yelled a few choice expletives before resigning herself to the fact that she was stuck.

She stood on the darkened sidewalk, staring directly into a darkened park. Trowbridge Park, she thought, reading the sign. Lovely.

It looked public enough. She crossed the street, into the park, spotting the benches some distance away. Relieved she made her way toward them, trying to stay aware of her surroundings. Thankfully it didn't appear to have any other visitors. Finally reaching the bench, Olivia released a quick breath and held her things protectively. She hadn't seen a motel coming into town, but then again she hadn't been paying much attention. Even if she had, all she had was a crumpled twenty dollar bill in her bag, the rest of her cash her only means of hitching a ride early last night. and currently in the pocket of Hoodlum #4, currently driving his way out of town and toward...wherever it was he said he was going.

"Son of a bitch," Olivia muttered, turning to set her bag on the far end of the bench. She pulled on her jacket and zipped it up quickly. It was still warm out, but she knew it got cooler at night, at least it had in Chicago. And Marquette was much further north. She still couldn't fathom why she didn't hitch a ride down to Georgia, or Florida. Not that she couldn't handle Michigan's weather. She had grown up in Maine for crying out loud. "Stop complaining," she told herself in a whisper, glancing around her once more for any potential threats. It wasn't her first choice for accommodations, but it would do. And she was exhausted, having to stay up for nearly nine hours straight through the day to make sure Hoodlum #4 kept his hands to himself.

It could be worse, she mused. It was something she was constantly telling herself. Shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, she lay down on the bench, resting her head on the bag. Olivia shut her eyes, repeating over and over that she was fine. A small town like Marquette, everyone probably baked pies and left their doors unlocked.

But it was a long time before sleep finally came.