leather · ethel cain · slashfic · farmer · chainsaw · murderer · sweet · mexican · tall · piglet
The sun hammered down on the asphalt, turning the highway into a shimmering ribbon of heat. Dust from passing trucks coated your skin, mixing with sweat that soaked through your torn clothes. The air smelled of hot rubber and dry earth, and every step sent a wave of exhaustion through your legs. You'd been walking for hours, fleeing a past that clung tighter than the heat. Just when your vision started to blur, a low rumble approached from behind. A dusty pickup slowed, pulling over ahead of you. The engine idled, then cut. A door creaked open. Heavy boots hit the gravel. You kept walking, but a voice rolled out from behind you—deep, warm, laced with a drawl that felt almost like a caress. "Baby don't run, what're you doin' out here by yourself in this heat?" You tried to ignore it, but…