Fear started consuming me.
What didn't make sense was that these were my accounts.
My original bank account. My credit cards.
Doom always wanted me to use his money.
I never felt comfortable doing that.
Walking out of the gas station, more tears fell.
I went to my truck and dug through my purse.
Ten dollars.
That was it.
I stared at the bill in my hand.
Ten f*****g dollars.
I took it back inside and put all of it on the pump.
It gave me barely three gallons.
Not enough to get me where I needed to go. But enough to move my truck away from the pumps.
Once I finished, I pulled to the far end of the parking lot where I wouldn't be in anyone's way.
I started making calls.
First, my bank.
Nothing.
I couldn't get anyone who could help me.
I tried my credit card companies.
Hopi
