I roll my shoulders, feeling even lighter than I did with theWelcome to Pennsylvaniasign. The exit approaches, and I swerve onto it.
Huh.
Going a little fast. And that’s a sharp curve. A sharp curve that keeps going.
Oh, this is one ofthoseexits. The kind with a two-seventy curve.
Probably need to?—
“Slow down!” someone shrieks behind me.
Someonein my car.
I wrench the steering wheel and hit the brake.
“Slow!” she shrieks again. “Brake! Brake! Slow! Turn! Shoulder!”
Who thefuckis in my car?
Am I hallucinating?
Why isn’t the road stopping? Why am I leaning against my window? Why am I going faster when I’m hitting the brake?
I—shit.
Gas pedal. I’m hitting the gas pedal.
I switch my foot position and slam on the brake in the middle of the off-ramp while memories of crunching metal and screams reverberate through my head.
The SUV swerves. Tires squeal. The centrifugal force has me smushed against my door, and no matter how I turn the wheel, the car doesn’t go in the direction I want it to go.
It’s spinning.
It’s spinning out of control.
I’mspinning out of control, the laws of physics taking control of my car and my body, making breathing impossibleand squishing me against the doorframe with my head leaning out the open window while I relive the reason I haven’t driven myself anywhere since I was in college.
This is it.
The end.
Four hours afterfreedom, four hours after leaving the life I was stuffed into thanks to my father’s greed, ego, and pride, and it’s over.
Done.
Just when I thought I was finally free, it’sdone.
I’ve never eaten a fresh chocolate chip cookie straight out of the oven in my own kitchen.
I’ve never gone skinny-dipping.
I’ve never watched a rainbow from when it formed to when it faded, or seen the sun rise or set from the top of a mountain.
I’ve never held a baby.
I’ve never held a baby.
And now I never will.
