News headlines flash in my vision.
“Convenience Store Heir Dies in Inconvenient Fiery Crash.”
“Fitting End for Criminal’s Son on the Run.”
“Billionaire with Burnout Perishes in Spinout.”
There’s total blackness behind my eyelids as my world jerks to a sudden near-stop.
My lungs engage, and I gulp in a massive breath as I open my eyes again.
The SUV faces the pavement that was behind me a moment ago. Bouncing headlight beams illuminate fresh tire marks on the sharply curved exit ramp as the vehicle continues to rock and settle.
My fingers have gone numb. My thigh muscles quake as I push with all of my might onto the brake with one foot and into the floorboard with the other.
Dots dance in my vision.
My breath comes again in a gulp of air that’s too much and not enough at the same time.
The symphony hits a crescendo that matches a rush of loud, heavy breathing.
Is that me?
No.
Not me.
I still can’t get my lungs to work right.
“Hooo,” the person in my back seat says. “That was a trip, wasn’t it?”
The person.
In my back seat.
The one who yelled for me to slow down as I exited.
I finally make myself take two more breaths, more in control but still mostly fueled by adrenaline, before I shift to stare back at her.
We.
Almost.
Died.
And she thinks it was atrip?
“Park!” she shrieks as the car starts rolling. “Shoulder! Park!”
What.
The actual.
Fuck?
I slam on the brake again with a shaky foot, realizing my engine died sometime during the spin and the SUV is being guided by gravity, while I gape at the vision in my back seat.
No.
