The truck swerves again.
My hands tighten around the steering wheel as the tires screech against the empty road.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I don't know where I'm going.
All I know is that I can't stop.
"Mommy!" Adrien's small voice trembled. "Slow down!"
"I can't," I breathe.
The words come out harsher than I mean them to.
The trees were endless on both side of the narrow road. No houses. No lights. No cars.
Just forest.
Just silence.
My heart pounds so loudly in my chest that it feels like the entire truck can hear it.
I grip the steering wheel harder.
God, I barely even know how to drive.
The truck jerks violently when my foot presses the accelerator too hard.
Adrien gasps.
"Mommy!"
"I've got it," I say quickly.
But that's a lie.
I absolutely do not have it.
Suddenly, the beast beneath us coughed.
A deep, metal shudder rippled through the floorboards. The engine, which had been roaring like a monster, gave a pathetic, sputtering wheeze.
