Death’s Bride

one

SHE WAS LATE. Utterly, and stupidly late. It was her own fault really. She hadn’t needed to drink that extra coffee this morning, nor did she have to stay in bed those extra 10 minutes. But it had all been worth it – she needed that extra pampering if she were to make it through the rest of this dreadful day.

As the car in front of her flashed its brake lights once again, Nya was certain that the whole world was against her. Normally the traffic would never build up like this, yet the council had decided to start their precious roadworks on the exact day that she was running late. Typical.

Frustration was one word for her feelings. But maybe also regret, both at herself and her procrastinating ways, yet also at her life, her job, her boss. She was angry at the monotonous work she would be forced to complete once she finally arrived at work, and the brutal earful she would receive from her boss for daring to come late. It was always the same, always so dreadfully tedious and repetitive. She needed to change something, anything.

A sleek, silver car cut into her lane, blaring its horn daringly as Nya was forced to slam her breaks on. A restrained scream leapt out her lips, filling the once-silent car with her sounds of annoyance. The world really was not working in her favour today.

Bringing her pedicured hand to her stereo, she turned the dial and filled her ears with the lilting tones of Fleetwood Mac. Their music would often calm her, soothe her fraying soul every time she had to force herself out of her homely apartment.

One day, she promised herself with gritted teeth, one day she will quit this dead-end job. She will finally build up the courage to do something for herself, rather than bowing to the pressures that society had put on her to remain in a well-paying job. Screw the system, she will quit.

“Soon,” she muttered, breathing deeply as her hazel eyes scanned the busy intersection. It seemed like mayhem, cars darting in and out just before the traffic lights turned. The silver car from earlier was sat stationary in the middle of the intersection, preventing any further traffic from crossing.

Nya rolled her eyes, “Idiot.”

She hated people like that, the ones that imagined themselves above the rules and above everyone else. If someone asked her why, she would religiously reply, “because rules are there for a reason, to keep everyone safe”.

But really, it was because she was jealous. She wanted to be the one that was above everyone, breaking rules to get what she wanted. She yearned to be the one ordering people around, to be the one intimidating her boss into bringing her a cup of coffee. One that was hot, yet not too boiling. An impossible task when the baristas would always look at her in irritation and reply, “we can only make it to one temperature.”

She knew that, would try to plead her case, yet was always the one to receive the repercussions when the darned coffee was not to his expectation. She was sick of it all, of men in particular. But she would only have to hold out a little longer, she promised herself. Soon.

Now at the intersection, Nya brought her battered car to a stop at the lights. She could probably try and sneak out before the lights changed to red, yet didn’t want to come across a fool if she cluttered the intersection like the silver car had. Yet soon a space cleared, and Nya nipped out to fill it before the lights changed.

The soothing lull of Stevie Nicks filled Nya’s ears as she swayed in her seat, drumming her fingers lightly on the steering wheel as she kept her eyes peeled on the busy traffic outside her window. All was calm, and she would be able to get to work in the next few minutes if she were lucky.

But it seemed that luck was not on her side today: a concept that she quickly grasped as she turned and watched apprehensively as a stray truck raced down the road towards the intersection. To where her car, her old and beaten yellow car, was trapped with nowhere to go.

Time slowed, and yet it all moved so impossibly quick.

In her final moments of life, those few precious seconds that she watched the blaring red vehicle careering towards her, Nya tried to find something to be grateful for. Yet she only drew a blank, and could only watch in muted regret as the metal around her twisted and bent around her fragile body. An ear-piercing scream, maybe her own, and the searing pain.

The world really was not working in her favour today.

And then, there was nothing but a flash of white that faded into dark. If only she’d had more time.