Can't Save Me

Grant

Madeline sidled as close as she could to the passenger door. She wouldn't make eye contact with anything but the car mat beneath her feet, but I could see her eyes darting from side to side like she was scrambling for an explanation.

"Maddie..."

Her voice responded in a whisper, choked with emotion and terrified. "I don't want to get you involved."

"Little fuckin' late for that, isn't it?" I snapped. Her body went even more rigid at my tone and I sighed as we pulled to a stop at a red light. "Madeline, please."

"Just let me out. I can walk from here." She yanked on the door handle, but I kept it locked. And I kept my finger on the lock button as she tried a couple more times.

"Are you crazy? I'm not letting you out in the middle of the street after that! They could still be tailing us!"

"It's... fine. I'll figure it out."

"Madeline, what is going on? What're you hiding?"

"It doesn't matter."

I rolled my eyes and quickly pulled off into the turn lane, finding the nearest parking lot and throwing my truck in park. "Tell me what the fuck is going on," I demanded. "Are you on drugs? Do you owe people money?"

"By association."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I asked, royally confused. We sat in silence for a beat. And then another. And then I heard a sniffle, and the hardness in my body deflated a bit. Making her cry hadn't exactly been my intention. Now I felt like a fucking prick. "Hey, Maddie..." I said, my voice more soothing. I reached out, trying to lift her chin so I could see her face, but she was quick to push my hand away. "Sweetheart, tell me what's going on. Please. I wanna help."

"You can't," she whispered back.

"I can try. If you let me."

Madeline took a deep, steadying breath and blew it out slowly, her cheeks puffing a bit as she stared straight ahead. "My dad had a gambling problem. And I'm not talking like lottery tickets or slot machines. I'm talking the tracks and sports and stupid fucking shit he never should've been a part of. It got worse when my mom got sick. And when he drank himself to death, he owed money, a lot of money, to a lot of really powerful, really terrible people."

"How much?"

"Three hundred grand, give or take."

I shot out a laugh of disbelief, "Jesus fuck."

"Yeah. Turns out when you die, mobsters just shake down your family instead. No real loan forgiveness program," Madeline paused and swallowed hard, picking the manicure off her index finger that was damn near gone already. "I've been trying to pay it back since then, but... apparently it's not happening fast enough."

"Have you talked to the police?"

Madeline scoffed. "Braun's got cops in his back pocket. I go to them and I'll end up in jail for something. I can't leave my mom alone."

"What's wrong with your mom?"

"Multiple sclerosis. Like... really bad. She tried for a long time to do the whole holistic, hippie medicine approach and now... all we can do is prevent it from getting worse. It can't get better."

"I'm sorry, Maddie."

Madeline gulped and nodded. "Me, too. She doesn't deserve to live like this."

"Neither do you."

She scoffed again and finally turned to look at me, her eyes red and holding back tears. "You literally just thought I had a drug problem."

"I didn't know!" I exclaimed. "All I knew was that both nights I've seen you at the club, you've needed rescuing."