Suicidal, much?
Should be dead, but I’m not.
Got that going for me.
At least.
My eyes track through the porche’s interior. I stare for a ridiculous amount of time at the window beside me.
It’s closed.
My arm lays in my lap. I can’t feel it there, but I can see it there.
Rumble.
Wait…did I…was that all some weird dream?
What the fuck is going on?
My heart thunders away in my chest. The fuck am I going to get out of this if I don’t know what’s real and what’s not?
I close my hand into a fist. Stronger than I thought…why?
It was a dream.
Or something close to it.
Maybe a warning.
From the other side.
My lips curl into a sardonic smile.
Thanks, Mom.
I muster what little strength I have and fall over onto my side. Now the Porche’s ignition is just a foot away. I manage to grab onto the key the second time around. The car dies.
There’s less gas down here.
Guess I haven’t been in here very long. Probably took Dad some time to put this all together.
Just let it happen, Jo.
Go to sleep, never wake up.
And I probably would have. But there’s more at stake than my mind, my ego, my consciousness.
Candy.
If she’s still alive, then I need to save her.
If she’s dead, then I need to avenge her.
And the only way either of that’s happening, is with me getting the fuck out of this catch twenty-two.
Two.
Two cars.