“Did you really let that happen?” Miller asks Sasha, cutting through the noise.
Everyone stops at that. It goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Sasha pulls her hands away and looks at Claire, tears pouring from her eyes. “I didn’t. I had no idea what he was going to do.”
“I know,” she responds.
Wait? Claire knew?
Lucas rips away from August and Blair, running towards Sasha at full speed before grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her away from the rest of us, towards the doors of the arena.
“Lucas, what are you doing?” Claire yells, chasing after them.
The rest of us follow suit, leaving Nathan and his bullshit behind us.
It takes roughly thirty seconds for me to realize what he’s doing, and about the same time for Sasha because the second she sees his car —and the fact that their heading straight towards it— she goes wild.
“Stop, please. Lu, please just stop for a second.” She’s ripping at his hand, clawing at it in hopes of getting him to let her go.
But he doesn’t.
“Lucas stop!” I yell, running full speed at this point. “Lucas, she doesn’t like cars!”
But he doesn’t hear me.
He throws a screaming Sasha into his passenger seat before getting in the driver’s side and ripping out of the parking lot.
twenty
SASHA
This isn’t happening.
Thiscan’tbe happening.
I scramble to get the door unlocked before he can get in, but my hands are shaking too much, and by the time he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, we’re already ripping out of the parking lot.
I’m in a car, a car with a very angry man who isn’t thinking about what he’s doing or where he’s going. He’s going to get us killed.
Hot tears run down my cheeks as my back presses against my door, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible.
I want nothing more than to squeeze my eyes shut, but the fear of not knowing what’s happening around me wins.
My eyes dart between him and the road. I can’t stop.
How could he do this? I don’t understand.
I know I should have done something to stop Nathan that night. I hate myself for not doing anything, but I knowhe heard Davis when he said I was afraid of cars… and he threw me in one anyway.
“Lucas, please.” I manage to get out between sobs, “please stop.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Lucas,” I scream. “Stop, I can’t do this. Get me out of this car, please. I can’t be in here.”
He speeds up more and more, driving right towards an intersection where we have a red light.
“Lucas,” I say in warning, but he doesn’t slow down. “Lucas stop!”
