Scherzfrage: переводы

→Shoving my gearshift into park, I clicked the interior light on. Seven hours away. Seven hours away is good enough for now. Besides, I had to pee. Sharp pains spiked all over my beaten body, as I climbed into the small back seat, streaking blood across the white leather interior of my last birthday present to myself, my gunmetal gray Porsche Panamera. “Ughh…aghh…I almost killed myself doing that. Can you get my first aid kit out of the trunk for me?”

→“Oh, really? Samantha, this is a strip bar,” she said, pointing her grimy finger towards my windshield. “That is a goddamn stripper club in the middle of a dark empty country road in the middle of North-Bumble-Fuck-Nowhere-New York; how much more horror movie cliché can we get? I’m not stepping foot in that shithole.” My expression didn’t change. “Come on, Sam. Let’s not dive right into an episode of some B-rated slasher show, please?”

→Of course, it was a bar. God must have forgiven me already for my sins, since he was so kindly answering my prayers for a stiff drink. Although an all-night drug dealer with a special sale on Vicodin would have been more useful. But I wasn’t going to complain. Alcohol was good enough.

→With almost seven straight hours of non-stop-adrenaline-fueled driving behind me, I pulled into the parking area of the first and only thing open on the long, empty stretch of road I found myself on.

→Shit! Shit. Shit, just apply pressure…

→I gave her a little snort, “Don’t worry, okay? They’re just flesh wounds; nothing is internally bleeding. I’m just…I think we’re in shock…that’s all. And I don’t think most of the blood is mine.” I ran my hand through my auburn strands of hair and my fingers came away bloodier. Suddenly, I developed an acute case of Tourette’s syndrome, “Fuck! That fucking-shit-son-of-an-ass-monkey-dick-weasel!” I didn’t remember getting hit in the head. “I should have ripped his dick off!”

→“Well…you look like first degree murder, and me, I look like an assault with a deadly weapon. What the hell do you think we LOOK LIKE?” She rubbed her fingers over her face and smeared a streak of blood across her tanned cheeks. Oh my…Oh my God, there’s a lot of blood. What the hell did I do? “Just pull over, Sam. You’re going to freaking bleed out while driving. You’re leaking like a sieve.”

→Gunning the engine, I accelerated, trying to find the next rest stop, exit, or somewhere I could wash the drying blood from my skin. Jen was absolutely right. We needed to stop somewhere and assess our damage. “How bad do we look, Jen?” My eyes peeked a glance at her again, as I tried to focus on the dark empty road laid out in front of us.

→No way, no one drives as fast as I do.

→Her long, pale blonde hair was pulled back in a messy bun and a few wild loose strands stuck to the sweat soaked skin of her neck. Twisting in her seatbelt, she gripped one hand on the dashboard, leaving a smudge of dark fingerprints just beneath. Big, brown, unblinking eyes pleaded with me to stop the car and let her take over driving.

→“Can you still drive? Lemme drive. Samantha, pull over and let me take the wheel!” Jennifer yelled in the passenger seat beside me. I turned my head to look at her. Oh hell. Oh, no…she had blood all over her too.

→Icy chills from the cold night wracked through my shoulders, even though I had the heater turned up high and the windows closed. Maybe the bitter coldness was coming from somewhere deep inside me. The thought sent a quake of chills surging across my throbbing collarbone.

→There was blood all over my hands and I knew I was losing control, because I was more desperate to find a drink, than a napkin to clean off the mess. A few really strong drinks to block out everything that happened. I needed something strong to jumpstart my terrified ass into breathing normally again. My fingers slid across my blood soaked steering wheel, while my body ached and pounded. Shaking with harsh violent tremors, I tried to catch my breath and focus on driving as fast as I could.