I need some sugar to keep going. I head for the staple of the weak, the slurpee machine. I’m pumping blueberry goo into my cup, when things change.
“Hey. Aren’t you Sparrow?” the clerk rings out in jilted english. I ignore him continuing to fill my cup.
“It is you. Tommy Lee was looking for you. I’ll give him a call.”
No. Not now, I’m so close to leaving this town, escaping his grasp. My mind filters to our last night together. Tommy stands above me, belt in hand. I watch as it descends towards my face, helpless.
“NO,” is all I say, and then things blur together. I act as a cornered animal, unable to see my enemies clearly. My slurpee spills over onto the clean floor. I’m not sure when I went for the gun, but the clerk drops the phone in fear. I hear three shots that sound like they come from within me, watch the fear turn to emptiness in the clerks eyes.
The impact of the gunfire knocks me back into a row of display beers. One smashes to the ground, and as I slide to the floor it sticks its’ jagged teeth into my leg. I’m numb. I look at the gun, warm to my touch, and toss it aside in disgust. What the hell did I just do? It wasn’t me I think, try to tell myself. Tommy Lee did this, but I know that’s a lie.
I’m a caged beast. This is what happens when the pet bites back.
The chime from the entrance wakes me from my shock. I notice the glass in my leg, and pull the broken bottle from it, spraying my pants with blood. It’s the guy from outside who enters. I think I’m crying, as he bends down to me.
“Sparrow” He says my name gently, like we are old lost friends. “Sparrow, Come on we need to get out of here.”

Soon enough, this stranger is driving my Corvette, me paralyzed in the passenger seat, as we race away from the 7-11, in a horrific night of senseless murder. Murder and freedom.

This will be the last ride in this city, my last trip down these streets. I have ended my life here, need to make a break, from Tommy, from everything. My band will carry me away, keep me protected from the road ahead. Sparrow Sprite will not show the world how broken she is. I refuse to. My blue Corvettes’ engine purrs at the traffic light. I need to finish one last thing.
Set the wheels in motion, make my escape. I pull into the 7-11. There’s a guy on the curb staring wide eyed.
“Hey got a smoke?”
I ask cause I could use one. He doesn’t. Still looks like he’s in shock at seeing me in front of him. WHATEVER. Let’s get this show on the road.
Into the neon store I go, a little bird about to fly away.