I don’t even bother to close the door behind me, because Christian’s already in his seat, already hitting the gas. I just scream and duck my head down as low as I can, and the movement of the car peeling away from the house slamming my door behind me.
But…we drive. Which mean’s Christian’s alive, and my own fear tells me that I am too.
That we’re alive.
I’m gasping with my fear, my eyes pressed shut as I try to duck down further, terrified that I’m going to be shot. But the car picks up speed, and Christian weaves around corners and down streets, cutting the edges of sidewalks in his hurry to get away.
It’s only when I feel the car slow a little, getting into the ways of normal traffic, that I crack open my eyes, desperate to know.
When I look up, little sobs I didn’t know I was ma
