Page 139 of Wicked Sins

Winner takes all.

Christ, it’s already too late.

Then it comes to me like a ray of light breaking through a gap in the clouds.

Turn. Off. The. Ignition.

Except…I’m in the passenger seat.

My eyes swivel in their sockets and fix on the pair of keys dangling beside the steering wheel.

Will it be enough? Or am I better off trying to get out of the car?

It’s impossible to think straight with the fierce pounding in my head.

Key. Window. Door.

Key. Window. Door.

I’m losing my fucking mind trying to decide, and all the while, the car’s rumbling, rumbling, rumbling under me.

A shit hand, and no choice but to keep raising, right? For sure, I can’t fold.

I snarl and force my hand up onto the armrest with monumental effort. My face is slick with sweat—some of it trickles down my neck. Still grimacing, I push my hand forward and grab the edge of the door handle in its recessed trough.

My fingers slip away the moment I try and draw back the handle.

Fuck!

Again, but they slip.

Again.

I’m weakening. My arm threatens to slide off the armrest. I won’t be able to lift it up again. I’ll die here, just like Dad intended.

Taking the same way out as my mom.

Fitting.

Poetic, almost.

Who the fuck knew Dad was such a melodramatic poet?

Fuck it.

I’m going all in.

I shove my hand forward and press down on the window button.

For a second, nothing happens. But then the window hums as it starts descending.

Time stretches like an elastic band. Everything inside me tenses as the window moves down.

I expected a gust of cool air. Freshness.

I get warm, stuffy air instead.

As the window reaches halfway, I suddenly realize something that had been plaguing me since I regained consciousness.

---