4. Darra
1157 Words
I sat stiffly in my car, my full focus on my breathing. My palms felt sweaty, fine trembles wracking my body. Despite the chili night air, I was sweating all over... a fact I didn't take note of till I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. All my efforts focused solely on stemming the panic cinching my lungs.
I took deep breaths and, for the first time in years, I remembered the breathing exercise my therapist taught me after dad's death.
I counted backwards from ten and counted upwards to ten while mentally focusing on the prominent sounds around me. The whole exercise felt familia and nostalgic all at once. After dad passed, I went through a lot mentally. He was my closest parent and, regardless of how busy he was, he would always make time for me. I still remember the days I would follow him to the office, while getting befuddled looks from some of his employees who were not used to seeing me. I would sit with him at business meetings, pretending to take notes and faking interest in business talks. Eventually, people surrounding him had gotten used to seeing me and I became a familia fixture in his workplace. After he passed, I was lost, drifting. Lost in my own head. Mom had always been absent and nonchalant and her disinterest only intensified after he left. The one good thing she ever did for me was to get me an appointment with my therapist, and somehow it didn't hurt when she told me to my face that she only did it for appearances’ sake.
In truth, I wasn't really surprised. I guess the daughter of the famous George Warren could not be seen by the world as mentally unfit.
This whole plan was made especially difficult because of how my dad passed. It felt like revisiting past trauma and accepting to step on hot coals. Huffing, I took in a deep cleansing breath, readying myself. Even for me, this plan was crazy, and it was made especially dangerous because I was going to do it on a busy road, not withstanding that it was late in the night. This could lead to my death and even by some miracle, and it did not, then the police would be at my tail. I could possibly end up in prison after tonight and that would have been the least of my problems.
But, it was worth it.
With hands fisting the steering wheel tightly, I took deep breaths, regulating my rapid breathing, sinking into my panic exercises while giving myself a pep talk.
IT WAS GOING TO WORK OUT.
I JUST NEED TO DO THIS.
THEN I CAN GET MY ANSWERS
As I whispered these words of encouragement, I focused on the life of the surrounding city. The cacophony of sounds enveloped me like a living entity. The hum of traffic thrummed through my veins, a constant heartbeat that pulsed with the rhythm of the metropolis. Car horns pierced the air, sharp and insistent, like the cries of restless spirits. In the distance, the wail of sirens rose and fell, a mournful lament that seemed to echo off the walls of my car.
Gradually my frayed nerves began to settle. From where I parked my car I could make out the rumble of the subway, a low-pitched growl that vibrated through every cell in her body, and yet, even in the midst of this symphony, there were moments of silence. A pause between notes, a held breath, a fleeting instant of stillness. It was as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. What I planned do next?
I grabbed the small pocket knife I always had with me. Taking a deep breath, I cut lightly along my arm to the elbow, the pain giving me singular focus for the task ahead. I do the same to my other arm with the line going a bit jagged from my less dominant hand. Blood trickled from the cut, some of it landing on my jeans.
I took deep breaths, the pain somehow becoming a steady point of focus. I opened my eyes, focusing on the sights before me. The hood of my silver convertible was already down. For my theory to work, it had to stay down.
With blood dripping steadily onto my lap, soaking my jeans... I started my car. The engine roared to life, calling out to its owner. I answered, my foot pressing down on the accelerator. My tires gripped the pavement with a soft whoosh as the vehicle surged forward. The speedometer climbed, its numbers blurring together as the wind and drops of my blood lashed my checks. The strands of hair that escaped my hurried bun were whipped around by the wind.
As expected, the moment I drove onto the highway at that speed, the call of sirens protested my plan of action, the police cars following my lead.
I gave little heed to their obvious warning. Instead, I focused solely on my goal.
This could either be my death or my salvation.
As the asphalt unwound like a curling serpent before me, I basked, giddy with exhilaration.
This was my lane. This was where I excelled the most. This was where I shined the brightest.
At that moment, I was one with the vehicle, our movements a fluid dance of speed and precision.
A gap opened, a fleeting window of opportunity between a dawdling van and a speeding coupe. I seized it, my vehicle darting forward with a silky smoothness. The coupe's driver, a dark shape behind tinted glass, shot me a glance of annoyance before flooring it, their car surging forward with a snarl. I approached the street that curved towards the bar of my unforgettable incident and I floored it again, somehow hoping this did not end with my death. The world narrowed to a single point, the finish line a distant mirage on the horizon.
When the streets were nothing but a blur to my watery eyes, I took deep breaths, steadying myself for what would come next. With my convertible still a silver blur in the streetlights, the speedometer shivering with anticipation and my steering wheel steady on its part, I did the most stupid thing I have ever done in my life. I unclasped my seat belt and, on shaky legs, I stood one leg at a time in the driver's seat.
With whispered prayers to any God out there, I stood straighter and jumped.
At that split second, I hovered in the air, a serene sort of peace came over me. As the law of physics took place and I approached the gleaming asphalt, I closed my eyes, hoping desperately for the best but at the same time accepting that this could be my last.
Then, from nowhere and everywhere, all at once.
I felt him.
- Writer
