I snorted and rolled my eyes, “Sweetheart, I think you’ve got the wrong girl.” I shifted in my seat, running a hand through my hair.

                “I know I don’t.”

                “You do,” I corrected, “Because I haven’t had neighbors for as long as I can remember.”

                “I used to babysit you. You were five, and I was twelve.”

                “Look.” I reached over, resting a hand gently on his leg. It was quite obvious he had me mixed up with someone else, but this boy seemed utterly convinced I was who he was searching for. I took a deep breath, trying to explain it once again. “I may look like this girl you’re searching for, but I’m not her. I’ve been living on the streets for the past twelve years. Before that I was in foster care, jumping from house to house.”

                “I know but—”

                “I’m not who you’re looking for, sweetheart.”

                He ran his fingers through his hair. “Humor me then. You are Hanna right?”

                Hesitantly, I nodded. He was both right and wrong. My legal name was Hanna. But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

                “Hanna Evergreen?”

                I nodded again.

                “The same Hanna Evergreen whose father died in a car accident when she was six, and whose mother currently resides in the county jail?”

                Anger boiled under my skin. I clenched my teeth, holding back my fists. I didn’t know who he thought he was, but this was scaring me.

                He grabbed my wrists, sensing that I was about to burst. “Don’t get mad at me. I’m here to help you. Hanna, you don’t want this life.”

                “You don’t know me!” Jerking my hands back, I climbed off of his lap and reached for the door. Before I had a chance to, the locks shut; I was trapped. “Let me out!”

                Fear began to replace the anger as I realized the situation I was in.

                “No, Hanna, you’re going to listen to me first.” His voice was stern. It reminded me of a drill sergeant.

                “You can’t make me!”

                “Damnit Hanna, stop!” He grabbed my face, pulling me toward him. “I’m not going to hurt you! I just want to talk to you!”

                I tried to pull my head away, but his strong grip held me in place.

                “I won’t hurt you and in an hour you can go.” His voice was calmer now, despite my continuous struggling. “Please, Hanna”

                Taking a deep breath, I ceased my attempts at freeing myself. My body began to shake with silent sobs. A lone tear fell down my cheek. I was terrified. How was I to know if I would make it out of here alive?

                His thumb rubbed away the tear. “No, no, sweetheart, don’t cry. Shh, please, Hanna”

                “Please stop.” I whispered.        

                “Hanna, no” his grip loosened to the point where he simply caressed my face as another tear escaped down the other side. “Hanna, do you remember what happens when you cry?”

                I bit my lip, shaking my head.

                “When you cry, it makes God cry. God wants you happy. Cheer up, buttercup.”

                When you cry, it makes God cry.

                Those words echoed in my mind.

                I knew them.

                I had heard them before.

                Hesitantly, I pulled away, rubbing off the last of the tears. “Who are you?”

                “I’m Nick, remember?” He smiled softly. The name sounded familiar, but I still didn’t believe him. The Nick I remembered was big and tall. This Nick seemed entirely different.

                I shook my head no as a response.

                He sighed dejectedly, but I had a feeling he wasn’t giving up on this.

                “You will. I’m sure of it. If you were old enough to have a crush on me, you were old enough to make me a memory. It will take time.”

                My face flared up, but not from embarrassment. His accusation infuriated me. My hands balled into fists, and it took all my willpower not to lash out in anger. He was quickly getting on my last nerve. I would have to remember to avoid Corollas from now on.

                He smiled at me, misinterpreting my anger.

                Oh, how I wanted to wipe that smile off of his face.

                “Hanna, tell me about yourself.”

                “No.”

                “Tell me or I’m taking my money back.”

                “You can’t do that.” I pulled away, but in the confined area of the car, there wasn’t anywhere to go.

                Nick raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Want to bet?”

                I glared at him with clenched teeth.

                “Tell me something.”

                “I don’t want to talk to you. I want you to take me back.” Crossing my arms, I stared out the window.

                He sighed. “Let’s make a deal then. A compromise.”

                I remained silent, listening.

                “I’ll take you back, if you honestly answer twenty simple questions for me.”

                “Five questions.

                “Fifteen.”

                “No.”

                “Ten. Ten questions. That’s fair.”

                “No. Five questions. That’s all.”

                “For three hundred dollars?” He shook his head. “Damn, you’re expensive.”

                I narrowed my eyes. If humoring this sick man was the only way to escape, then so be it. It was more important to maintain the money for my boyfriend’s sake.

                “What’s your favorite color?”

                I blinked, not expecting that. I had been anticipating questions about my family, my former life, my childhood. Questions on things he shouldn’t have known about me. Questions that I wouldn’t be comfortable answering.

                Not my favorite color.

                “Purple.” It rolled off my tongue automatically. He smiled, shaking his head.

                “Always was.”

                I chose to ignore the small comment, knowing it would only anger me more.

                “What’s your favorite movie?”

                “I don’t know” I said honestly. “I can’t remember the last time I actually watched a movie.”

                Nick shrugged. “I know you’ve seen movies. Tell me your favorite from the past.”

                I thought for a moment, going over the few movies I remembered from my youth. Television had had such a minimal impact on my life.

                “Probably Jaws.”

                Nick laughed so loudly, I jumped. I had not been expecting the outburst of emotion, flinching in response. Calming down, he noticed my tense position with humor.

                “Do you remember watching that when you were little?” He asked, shaking his head softly. I nodded hesitantly. “I think I showed you that well before you should’ve seen it. I remember getting yelled at by your parents and my parents.”

                “Why?”

                “You were terrified of your fish tank!”

                I blushed, “No I wasn’t.”

                “Oh, yes you were. Your dad moved it into his room instead.” He chuckled softly. “I remember because I was forced to help him clean it and move it as punishment.”

                I bit my lip as the memory vaguely began to take shape. I wasn’t sure if it had happened. Was he planting the memory in my mind? I had such an unclear memory of my childhood and it was possible he was manipulating me into believing his tale. If it was true, why did I like Jaws so much now?

                “Next question.”

                “Alright,” he paused to think. “Favorite food?”

                “Chicken nuggets.” I snorted, rolling my eyes. “That sounds so bad, but I never eat enough of those. They’re delicious.”

                 Nick’s smile was the only response I received. “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?”

                I sighed, leaning my head back. Despite how easy of an answer this was, I took some time contemplating it. “Florida. Miami.”

                He didn’t ask why, and I was grateful that he didn’t. I didn’t want to have to explain why; I didn’t know how to.

                “Favorite flower?”

                I gave him a curious look, “Why do you want to know?”

                He shrugged. “Every girl likes flowers. Maybe I want to get you some. Maybe I just need to know what kind.”

                “Don’t get me flowers.”

                His eyes widened in surprise. “Why not?”

                Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself down before I spoke. “When people give flowers, they’re giving dead plants. I don’t want dead things.”

                Flowers and funerals went well together.

                “But you put them in water…”

                “They’re still dead. You had to kill them to give them to someone.”

                He nodded thoughtfully.

                I waited a few moments for a comment, but after receiving none, I fidgeted in my seat and sighed loudly. “Take me back now.”

                Nick nodded and started the car.