'Christine' by Stella Turner

I’d watched that film it had a girl’s name. The car was a killer. It just mowed everything down, guts and gore everywhere. I’d sat hiding my eyes behind a cushion. Johnny laughed at me saying I was missing the best bits and tried to wrestle the cushion from me. I ended up bruised on the floor, if I hadn’t moved quickly I would have had a real shiner of a black eye. Johnny called them play fights. My social worker calls it assault, but I wouldn’t press charges, didn’t seem right. He’s my boyfriend after all. My social worker says I need to work on my self esteem. I deserve better. Not sure about that, can’t see Prince Harry come knocking on my door any time now. I’d have nothing nice to wear, and his dad wouldn’t want him going out with me Christine from the council estate. When Jason from up the road asked if I wanted to sit in his new American car, I knew he meant something else, but the car reminded me of the one in that film. I sat in the driver’s seat whilst his hands roamed over my body. If you squint your eyes a little bit, he looks like Prince Harry, well he has ginger hair. The police were really nice to me. I was in shock, the paramedics said. I’d started up the car. Jason was giving me a driving lesson, but I didn’t realise it was an automatic. Put my foot down just as Johnny came around the corner. Guts and gore just like that film. The police weren’t too bothered that I didn’t have a provisional driving license, more interested in the drug stash in the boot. Jason will be in prison a very long time. My social worker says I’ve been very lucky. No injuries, no charges. After Johnny’s funeral, she’s going to help me enrol at college. She says I’m cleverer than I think. First published on The Angry Hourglass website 15/08/15