The next second, I’m running to the car.
I left the key in the ignition. All I have to do is get in, start the engine, and get the fuck out of here before anyone’s dick is out.
“Get back here, you fucking bitch!” Lenny shouts.
Fuck that shit.
My feet pound over the road, my lungs burning, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it feels like it’s trying to escape, just like me.
I reach the car. Yank open the door. Throw myself into the driver’s seat.
Lenny’s footsteps behind me, getting closer. “Stupid bitch! Get out of the fucking car!”
I turn the key.
The engine sputters.
“Come on, you fucking piece of shit!” I yell, turning the key again.
It catches.
Lenny’s glowing like a devil disguised as an angel. What’s left of his wispy hair glowing in the headlamps. Pale skin, demonic eyes, monstrous mouth twisted in a grimace.
I slam my foot down on the gas, yelling because I can already feel Lenny’s hands on me, holding me down as that dealer gets his fucking money’s worth.
I meant to reverse.
I forgot I’m still in first gear.
The car lurches forward. There’s hardly enough time for Lenny’s face to register surprise—a twitch of his eyebrows, a slackening of his jaw—before the car slams into his legs and he’s gone.
The dealer was right behind Lenny.
Behind where Lennyusedto be.
He tries to jump out of the way and partially succeeds. But the bumper clips him so hard, he spins once before he hits the road.
The brakes are shoddy. The tires are bald. The car skids as I try to stop.
By the time Dad’s junker responds, I’m inches from one of the concrete pillars supporting the tracks overhead.
I could have died.
If I’d hit that pillar—no seatbelt, no airbags in this prehistoric piece of shit—I’d be fucking dead.
My breath comes in ragged gasps. My hands are shaking so badly I’m struggling to grip the wheel.
In the rearview mirror, I see two shapes on the ground.
One of them pushes himself up, clutching his leg, his face twisted in pain.
“You crazy bitch!” the dealer screams. “You could’ve killed us!”
I look at the other shape. The one that isn’t moving.
My uncle is sprawled on the road, limbs bent at weird angles. I can’t tell if he’s breathing, but the dealer said ‘almost’ and that’s what keeps repeating in my head in a shrill scream.
…almostkilledhim…
