Page 31 of Finding Storm

Me being in LA right now is not the best idea.

I take the exit ramp. Before I know it, I’m on the I-40, heading west, and I finally—finally—feel like I can relax.

Well, not relax.

I’m still mad as fuck.

But it’s the best I’m going to get with my current frame of mind.

I maneuver my car over the lanes into the high-speed lane, and then I put my foot down, opening her up.

I switch the screen back on, needing to fill the silence in the car and cover the noise in my head.

Remembering I can’t listen to the music on my phone through the Bluetooth because I turned my cell off, I opt for the radio. I search through the channels.

I need music to suit my mood.

The search stops on a station, and one of TMS’s early songs blares out the speakers.

Seriously?

My eyes go skyward.

Are you fucking joking right now?

I glare at the stereo like it’s personally fucked me over.

I hit the search button again. And when I say hit, I mean, punch.

The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside” comes on, midway through the song.

Fucking love that song. But not in the mood right now.

I need loud guitars. And bass. And drums. I need something to feed my black soul.

Search stops on a heavy metal station, and the starting sounds of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck” pour out of the speakers.

“Fucking finally,” I mutter to myself.

Using the controls on my steering wheel, I turn the volume up to max.

Bass pounds inside my car, humming over my skin like electricity and settling inside of me like a drug.

A feeling close to peace settles over my barely hidden rage.

Only music can calm me in this way.

Driving fast and listening to loud music might be a fucked up way to relax when, internally, I feel like I could pummel someone to death, but it works for me.

But I know the moment I stop moving, it’s going to hurt.

And I don’t want to hurt.

“Thunderstruck” ends, and the haunting, humming sounds of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” fills my car.

I fish out a cigarette from my pack. Put it between my lips and spark it up. I lower the window down and let the speed of my car, the low hum of the engine, and the thumping music take me over.

I rub at my eyes and cast a glance at the clock on my dash.