If I’m lucky, they’ll never know.
I just want five minutesto myself that feel normal.
Ten minutes tops.
Slipping into the driver’s seat, I feel better already, my whole body letting out a sigh of relief as I start the engine and back out of the garage.
A new song by Descending North comes on, and I make a mental note to tell my brother to let Garrett know how much I like it. Garrett and I are friendly when we’re together—kind of like the cousin you only get to see a couple of times a year. So he’s like family but it’s not like we have a text thread going just to check in.
I’m so lost in thought I don’t see the car until it’s right on top of me, seemingly out of nowhere, so close to my bumper the headlights disappear in my rearview mirror.
Heart racing in my chest, I turn right, but they follow, their engine revving behind me as my palms start sweating where they grip the steering wheel.
I’m fine. This is fine.
I accelerate and so do they, my eyes glancing frantically from the windshield to the side mirrors to the rear view as I blink back tears.
I’m fine; everything is going to be okay.
I take a quick left and then the first right onto a road I’ve been on a thousand times before and curse myself because it’s not residential and there’s not another car in sight.
Tears start to cloud my vision and I blink them back, trying to think of how far I am from the next turn when it happens.
The sickening sound of metal on metal as the car rams me from behind is like my worst nightmare come to life. I scream, my car jerking from the force as I try to regain control. But just as I do, they hit me again, this time moving over into the other lane enough to nudge the back corner tire.
I swerve, my tires screeching against the pavement as I try to keep my car on the road.
The dashboard lights up with an incoming call.
Tom.
I’m too scared to take my hands off the wheel, my fingers rigid as I try to stab at the
accept call button next to the horn.
“Kat—”
“Tom!” I scream, the sound of crunching metal drowning out whatever he was trying to say as I try desperately to keep myself calm long enough for him to get to me.
Because he will get to me.
“Stay on the phone with me. I’m coming,” he says, his voice tight but reassuring as an engine revs, but I’m not sure if it’s him or me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I cry. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“Breathe, Kat. I need you to stay focused.”
I see the end of the road ahead, the other car seeming to slow down as we approach the intersection. Relief floods my veins as Tom continues talking through the speaker.I’m going to be okay. I’m?—
I’m not prepared for the impact.
The sickening crunch of the car against the side of mine is deafening, the moment of reprieve violently cut short with one final blow.
It’s somehow harder than the other times and perfectly placed on the side to send me spinning out of control.
Tears stream down my face as every overcorrection sends me whipping this way and that.Please, God, just make it stop.But I’m not stopping, not yet. With both feet standing on the brake, I cross the intersection, thankful for the absence of headlights and horns.
The only sound I can hear outside the blood pounding in my ears is the sound of tires screeching, but I have no idea if they’re mine or someone else’s.
