NICO.
“Keys!” Sasha yells as we approach the car.
“No, I'm driving” I announce.
“No, you're not. You can't drive in that state. You'll get us killed”
I exhale and glare at him for a second, “Fine”. I toss the keys to him and slide into the passenger seat.
He's right. I can't drive in this state. I can't even see straight, because right now, what I feel isn’t anger; I'm f*****g enraged.
Raw, blistering, bone-deep rage. Like fire under my skin.
My chest feels too tight for air.
I have to hurt someone. If I don't, I might actually burn from the inside out.
This version of myself has been tamped down for some time. The reckless and impulsive Nico.
My head spins. How the f**k did they know?
I ensured every inch was scrubbed and no traces would tie it to me. How then did whoever
